007 Challenge

[AmericanTrash]

Love you both.

 

[AmericanTrash]

push

She doesn't answer
easily. I have asked
what pushes you over
the edge when you come?

Is it somewhere or some
specific someone? What
steals your breath? Who
points your toes? I knew
I know she wants me
after. She loves me
after. But what makes her

come is cock hard rock
candy dandy fuck and buck
then gone. My breasts
pillow the safe room soft
landing. I love her more
for her raw mascara run.

She loves me when her eyes
are closed. She gasps
my name as code.

 

[Tzara]

As echoed Adrienne Rich
"there is a price
there is a price"--

My comment on this poem is here.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Tonight in the Arena

Nobody bled. Not even bulls
steering low horns into red
illusions. Sweet air swelled
night walks and near fights
heavy with reprieve. Tomorrow
wears a cape--perhaps a knife
but tonight. Tonight! Drink
deep. Let's fill our wretched
lungs with peace.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Did he say radio or rodeo?

When he walks fast in that fast walk mood
ahead and diagonal crossing at yellow lights
He's still talking but ahead because that's
obviously where he's looking and walking

especially during the yellow lights so
radio or rodeo become kind of interchangeable.
He says that's what it was like when I was
young and queer in the bible belt.

Only the (radio or rodeo) saved me. Probably
radio? But then I imagine queer rodeo
which instantly gets better. Now I kind of hope
he said rodeo. Maybe when we stop

walking fast I'll try to convince him
maybe fake a picture of him in a hat
totally Toy Story cowboy though, not Clint
or even Wayne. Surely he's choosy

about when he pulls the trigger. After all
we both survived the 80s. Lots of us didn't.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Satisfaction

Don't worry which fork to use. This is a poem for spoons
smooth as surface of a neighbor's midnight pool. Off limit
lifted latch and quiet plunge shh!! Don't laugh. This
permit wasn't arranged. It's a trespass

hush I eat from your open mouth just
like in movies if I had planned a better bra. Some film
where twenty somethings fall, surprised, into kind lives
from the cliff of a miracle fuck that climaxes with a click--

some sophisticated tumbler on a bonus safe. As if
this film fucking were a metaphor for happy fortunes. No.
It didn't go that way. The ugly bra awkward smile was me.
You the widely rumored maybe dad of some

other pretty swimmer's baby. Thus the rubber
baby buggy bumper laugh I couldn't quiet. Then
we didn't. Not then. Just sank deep into water and stars--
our wet skins and unspeakable possibilities

filled the hush of that pool that night those
sharply separate stories of the sky
that led you west, me east. I remember it
as if it were true that
you named all the stars and traced with your finger
the lines of their legends. After, I slipped, braless,
into the unspoken spaces between.

 

[JCSTREET]

We have all

Don't worry which fork to use. This is a poem for spoons
smooth as surface of a neighbor's midnight pool. Off limit
lifted latch and quiet plunge shh!! Don't laugh. This
permit wasn't arranged. It's a trespass

hush I eat from your open mouth just
like in movies if I had planned a better bra. Some film
where twenty somethings fall, surprised, into kind lives
from the cliff of a miracle fuck that climaxes with a click--

some sophisticated tumbler on a bonus safe. As if
this film fucking were a metaphor for happy fortunes. No.
It didn't go that way. The ugly bra awkward smile was me.
You the widely rumored maybe dad of some

other pretty swimmer's baby. Thus the rubber
baby buggy bumper laugh I couldn't quiet. Then
we didn't. Not then. Just sank deep into water and stars--
our wet skins and unspeakable possibilities

filled the hush of that pool that night those
sharply separate stories of the sky
that led you west, me east. I remember it
as if it were true that
you named all the stars and traced with your finger
the lines of their legends. After, I slipped, braless,
into the unspoken spaces between.

fallen into the sweet nepenthe of memory and you resurrect those places in the heart . . . those spaces in our art/s at the time - again, you light all the Christmas lights charting my nerve endings, dear heart

 

[AmericanTrash]

Capital

Jason called me in because
otherwise he'd disown his cousin
who argued as if rabid against
his gentle friends. But

I'm not one of those. So here
we go. Points of argument.
Structures of logic. No sense
bullying. Here's the carpet
for calling. Finally though

no reasoning is possible with
anybody's cousin bereft of logic

especially on Friday night. Two
coins in the fountain will hold

the ravenous for now.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Dancers

Perfectly excusable: I was late because
dancers--beautiful, accredited, articulate
dancers gave

up childhoods in Texas and how you know--
fire signs in the throng. We belong in those
careful crevices which blood knuckled some
little room for what we cannot say until

bodies spill every bit of it,
each letter of our secrets
now remembered. Still,

our eyes write lines for lights while
grief kicks out through a dancer's toe.
Who can argue with blood's
pulse through the body? Not chalky
bones. Muscles, tendons tell and then
everybody knows.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Carpentry and metaphysics

Grand stretches yawn between now and
what has been. Expanse
erodes the warm wire
known for its timely buzz. Alerts for storm
for seniors on the run. For all those young
names just names possibly nabbed. Possibly
escaping. Beep beep beeeeee sings my phone
telling me to pray. Quickly pray. Whatever else
pounds my head or yours whatever claims all
false the efforts--false the friends--false lovers. But you -
never bend. Say my name knowing that isn't me now. We were
better sounds than that. Let go
lamps and architectures.. Meet me yet
where boats can't dock nor planes land on our
own renegade shore.

 

[JCSTREET]

Grand stretches yawn between now and
what has been. Expanse
erodes the warm wire
known for its timely buzz. Alerts for storm
for seniors on the run. For all those young
names just names possibly nabbed. Possibly
escaping. Beep beep beeeeee sings my phone
telling me to pray. Quickly pray. Whatever else
pounds my head or yours whatever claims all
false the efforts--false the friends--false lovers. But you -
never bend. Say my name knowing that isn't me now. We were
better sounds than that. Let go
lamps and architectures.. Meet me yet
where boats can't dock nor planes land on our
own renegade shore.

carpentry and metaphysics

 

[AmericanTrash]

Jc

That probably wasn't good enough. But it was for you.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

L.S.Lowry

Mills churning out hundreds
of little, pinched figures,
heads bent down against the sad,
damp afternoon sky,
portrayed in just five colours:
Vermilion, Prussian blue, Yellow ochre
Flake white and the Ivory black
of England's industrial past.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

Although it seemed to be all mended,
like a scab never allowed to heal
they picked away at their disagreement,
garnered from a misunderstanding.
She only wanting reassurance of his love,
that it would never be withheld again,
re-opened the wound, ripped their poem
and freshly bleeding fell, unstaunched.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Jones Beach

Umbrellas and chairs. She has
umbrellas and chairs. Check. Jams--both.
Check. Avocado toast
(I'm not going into it here, but
it's tradition). Check.
Pale girl who cruised has 3 different flavor
sun screen. Check. Definitely her driving.
Check. Thermos of margaritas check.
Jones Beach is not fire island, but ultimately,
a beach is a beach is a beach.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Short Short Skirt

Short short skirt
long hair long legs

walking tall high nose
yes that's my baby

wit so sharp she spiral
shreds

soft at night
like a feather bed

Lucky penny, I'm the one
she chose

Everybody knows
yes that's my baby.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Yes, Jerome

Three Men in a Boat proposed
optimistic curative for sour age,
urbane panic and, most seriously,
seriousness.

Fishless fishing, moonless
mooning, very bad singing,
attack by swans--

not to mention the dog. Spite fog,
burnt eggs, mud and steam motor
boaters, gentle

friends forgive. Was that you
who threw me from the bed?

"I thought it was you!" you said.

 

[AmericanTrash]

The last time

The last permitted
spelunker shoved
hurt everywhere
turned me faceless
without language
just skin so

that was the last time
as a vessel, as a bruised
plum. Some other
time surely dissuades
invitation eventually.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Although it seemed to be all mended,
like a scab never allowed to heal
they picked away at their disagreement,
garnered from a misunderstanding.
She only wanting reassurance of his love,
that it would never be withheld again,
re-opened the wound, ripped their poem
and freshly bleeding fell, unstaunched.

Great to see you here, UYS! Rip those scabs off and bleed us some poetry. lol

 

[AmericanTrash]

Man Posting a Letter

Tight lipped cigarette says
this letter is not a love letter,
glares definitely

from the slant hat side eye
growl neck curl--says
this is not any
pansy flimsy flowery
love letter.

Yet the flap gingerly
accepts the secrets
of paper and careful pen

then perhaps he straightens,
plucks imaginary lint and stalks
away from soft, slight smiles.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Protections from Sorcery

The poem that was here had to be removed because well, good enough to maybe publish. Rivka said it wasn't crap and that's good enough for me.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

I like sunshine
also rain
especially in bed
sleep's refrain.
I like thunder,
lightning too.
those loud crashes
make me oooooo!
Only in choc
do I like mint,
sauce on lamb chops
makes me squint.
I love music,
all sorts mind,
but very often
love songs I find
beckon irresistibly
because it's true,
I love them
and I love you.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Rocks

Auntie I know it's loud here. Let me remove those
hearing aids and it will all be better. Quiet.
Now you can't hear at all but that's fine.
Sand. Sky. That's right just lay back
into the memories of when you, too
kicked up trails and smashed into surf.

Tides will come back to you. Stronger
now than when you were a girl. Remember
the taste of salt, pretending you
were the one rare pearl on the whole
length of beach. Yes that's right.
What a pretty smile you have still when
you breathe.

 

[AmericanTrash]

Husbandry

My husband didn't die, so I was new to the racking sob
when I held you. When I felt the tambre of your moan.
Skin learns from the skins of every other human skin
shuddering. Pain discovers a new landscape
to flood with memory. When you mourned you weren't
alone. That was me at your elbow, filling your
pantry. You kept my handkerchief,remember?
All those years ago
that was me.

 

[AmericanTrash]

I like sunshine
also rain
especially in bed
sleep's refrain.
I like thunder,
lightning too.
those loud crashes
make me oooooo!
Only in choc
do I like mint,
sauce on lamb chops
makes me squint.
I love music,
all sorts mind,
but very often
love songs I find
beckon irresistibly
because it's true,
I love them
and I love you.

UYS this is infectiously happy. Thank you. I needed that.