30 Poems in 30 Days

[AChild]

7-16

junk talk

grind aint enough, really
more about body heat
as much skin
touching as possible

the same feelings pass
swing, see saw

travel the raveled maze into your iris
deeper as the lids form pant

moan for me to care
teach me how hard to push
the first time
and every other I'll fuck with the tempo

 

[tungtied2u]

1-14

Eternal

Eternal, the circle of suffering
rolls ever onward, crushing
beneath it souls, human spirit
where hope springs,
eternal

 

[clutching_calliope]

5-26 Ignition

wild things gather, cloven-hoof
and crept gray stone,
over your shoulder

as you tell

me all these straw thoughts
that make us scratch at
wooden matches
in the dry season.

 

[Tzara]

5-26

Sand

You are grit between my toes,
coat soles and ankles,
get caught in hair, roughen scalp.

Wet and firm you lie
along long shores. You are
abundant—the earth

on which I finally stand.
And when we fuse in heat,
we form one clear unrippled sheet.

 

[tungtied2u]

1-15

Tonight in distant darkness
above the bleak horizon, I glimpsed
white light reaching across the ocean
a nebula newly formed
from stardust and spirit

Your fire breathed inside me
incinerated the sadness
consumed me in flames dancing
the miracle of rebirth

From the embers I arose
a phoenix, caught currents underwing
soared to the heavens
bathed in the warmth of your wisdom

I kissed the breath of your beauty
fine and feather soft
plucked a quill
and as it fell
it wrote of my love for you

 

[annaswirls]

7-4 forgive my manly hands

sweat and nail scrapes and dirt that
will not come clean with ordinary hand soap
demolition
one free standing garage
in nine piles
tonight I earned my sleep
tonight I wear my father's wounds





okay this is not a poem, but I am not a poet. today I am a demolition man. my wife even took the kids out to eat so I could pull apart the wood uninterupted. I need a tetnus booster.

 

[AChild]

7-17

hair cut

my father's backyard
old fiat on busted tires,
two door freezer,
air pump jack,
everything works of course
the electrons are just resting
perfect prison view of an alley
angry dog sings the high grass
blues

he cuts my hair, half drunk
stabbing me in the head
making origami out of my ear
dandruff flies like smoke
coloring wind

he gives me advice on hygiene
and washes my hair with a
beer mug

 

[Tzara]

5-27

The Interpretation of Dreams

Freud knew it all. He saw
why I dream of locks and keys,
and tumblers that won't fall

despite my turning, turning
pressure, why all at once
when oiled cylinder flicks over,

and drives the bolt securely home,
why I wake then sweating, tense—
why locks in dreams can so disturb.

 

[clutching_calliope]

3-27 Admiral Starbuck the Imitated Mermaid (Sisyphus Writes a Novel)

we left the slide
trombone
on the side of the road.

marched to the corner.
sang. ain’t nothing
here but a two-penny

chorus
making a penny
a day.

 

[AChild]

7-18

the noose tightens as the clock
winds,
I wheeze and find a comma
excuse me cough,

I catch the second hand
by diving into the current
of self refinement
unconscious I make ripples
that are becoming spheres
but I can't see the whole picture

elders sigh as I try
to slice my piece heaven
their weary where the eyes hold,
time to change my money goal

in the back round
mutant people half child, adult
chop stick and pop song
on piano
it feeds the soul a little

I wonder if I'm the only one
listening.

 

[tungtied2u]

1-16

he struts above, larger
than legend, picking fingers claiming
chords, ringing Carribean rhythms
shooting chills of childhood up my spine

he's the cock of the walk, crowing
showing his swagger, hips pumping
exaggeration, eyes twinkle as he singles
out the prettiest hens in the house

smacking lips, toothy smile in bright relief
to chocolate brown skin, he spins and grins
sweatdrops shoot. bless the faithful
writhing in the Baptismal pit below

it's the rapture of the bluesman
captures the young and old alike
no mercy shows he, the notes
are your salvation, they are free

 

[annaswirls]

7-5 the dragon waits, we learn new words

A Hobbit and twelve dwarves set up camp
outside the secret door.

Mommy I want to die lying next to you.
And the day before I will put a stone heart
there in the place.

I wrote a poem five years and
nine months ago so I didn't need to write one
today.

 

[Tzara]

5-28

Lune

Clove crushed in a cup
of hot tea.
She drank it that way.

 

[tungtied2u]

1-17

The thought of you makes me
long to do rash things, wrap myself
in only an overcoat, drive
through the rain to your doorstep, rap
and await your answer, to open my coat
have you grab my bumpershoot
squeeze as a spoon you're stirring
through a thick gooey stew
'til I spew the creme de la creme
ahem...
just as quickly, leave the scene
of the crime, head back home,
hop into bed
and dream

(posted first on the free thoughts thread)

 

[clutching_calliope]

3-28 Rundle Town

Timber air carpeting falls up your spine
so that when licked,
my tongue with smoke entwine.

 

[annaswirls]

7-6

there is nowhere to hide in this house
the doors do not latch
press palms on ears I can hear plumbing through my knees


there is nowhere to hide in this house
even as I type with my eyes closed he comes to tell me
the babysitter was reading Marx.

I unroll the paper tear
it into squares
and suddenly
my attention is required

there is no where to hide in his house
I sleep
I sleep
I sleep

 

[AChild]

7-19

Old school

fell asleep with the joint in my lips
smiling I dreamt about smoking
the slight sway of spiral, the sweet curve of hips
in the muse of sativa I'm soaking
teeth painted resin didn't think I could get any higher
yet I startled to wake
and began to bake
as I put her sweet body to fire

 

[clutching_calliope]

3-29 Hotel Banff, Wednesday Morning

They make the staff say hello
and you know they are caring
less about your face
than the hairs in the sink.

They make the cooks wear hats
that are bleached souffles.
They don't have to say hello
as long as they don't masturbate in the clam chowder.

They make the desk staff wear stiff navy suits
as if they were off to battle
and the seas broke over the Rockies
and washed upon the wheatfields.

They make me wear a nametag
so that my identity can be known
and mispronounced by strangers
that say hello to me in the halls.

 

[tungtied2u]

1-18

the raindrops dance in the carport
spotlight, swirling in the draft
driven at times like manic swarms
of gnats in fervent frenzy,

then shift into stellar overdrive
falling like mini comets, self
consumed in descent
dissipating into darkness

then reborn as silken strands
of finest gossamer,pulled taught
by an invisible weaver, twisting
into wiggle worms burrowing into the night

 

[AChild]

7-20

pretty with the cracked smile
knows her worth and tries to
tease the up keep out of some
young lad

she tools him with fishnets
short skirts, bras that can be
seen through shirts

they share the cool of being
seen together
and make the fire from being
one
he leaves her with half the code
and now she's cold

her wants ignored, she wakes
to needful cries

 

[Tzara]

5-29

Ritz-Carlton, Lake Las Vegas

There are too many doors here
I cannot open, though I would.

I cannot open them because
they always clear on my approach

yet there are no beams, no laser eyes
to trip machinery. Just guys

in different kinds of suits,
some wearing ties, some not, who

open doors. They always ask
how I am and can they

do anything for me, Sir. No,
I say, no thanks. I'm fine,

and I slink back to my room
and to its closet. The one door here that's mine.

 

[AChild]

7-20b

the old masturbation
in the deli bathroom
with the erotic paper
sepia tone tits
love a 1-800 away
giving myself indian burns
on my totem pole
blow achoo
can't see the worms
but I know I'm there dying

put the paper back in the machine
as a joke
I get on my bus a little ashamed

 

[annaswirls]

7-7 Fastened to the Improv

You who says
just let it happen
you who conjugates the tape
torn into three red rectangles
(or squares, depending on the mathematical
alliance of the phrase. )
Mystic, Mastic, Magic Tape

You who write the gaffer into your verse
the man the mystery who secures the wires
so we can join you, your column of air that vibrates.
You who pick at the corners.
Hoping to peel something profound from the podium
pulling passion from Yates on the steps of the cathedral
and skip it down dotted sixteenth notes waterfalling into mixed triplets
Red petals fall from your lapel
as your flattened hand chops the syllables and accents
scoops earth presses kernals we rain.

 

[clutching_calliope]

3-30 Limitless Fond

They say nature has a way of making
nothing romantic; things decay. There is
not much for dinner, all the fast taking
and never enough time to chew. They piss

and groan, call it copulation, you know,
the survival of the species, Darwin.
Things fuck and die (fuckin’ die, says Dodo).
No scented candles or massage oils. Lin-

seed is what will make a hide supple. As
for hand-holding, see page ten where it says:
“None, although the rules state possession has
nine-tenths of the nest. Do your very best

to not spit in the well, don’t shit in the pond.”
Don’t love is the subtext. Limitless fond.

 

[Tzara]

5-30

Me, Convulsion Addict

Just before the end there is this aura
that sprays across my nerves, alerts

me to the change, although too late
to stop the change, and then right after,

the epiphenomenon of consciousness
is wiped like chalk from slate

and the reptile brain frees happiness
to flood my body without guilt.

But where do I go then? I am not there.
When I return it is all done and I have missed

the grand event. I know only
tired muscles, clammy sweat, and maybe

some little closeness. But I'm a guy,
and therefore dumb. So I just try again.





I am so not doing this again anytime soon. Congratulations to my partner, though. Great run, Calli!