A Poem from December 2001

I was broken hearted over Joe Frank and blogging and visiting the Fam in Ohio and wrote this.

~my christ-mess present to myself;~

broad strokes of sunlight to power my flashlight; megawatts of passion from past obsession
to power my urge to do chores. buckets of tears from the bummerama,
to water the trees that grow new drama.
a pickaxe to carve stairs in the
slippery slope of who cares.

~*~

a pinch of whatever, a dose of forever
with 2/3 of never. blended with clever. and
strength and a lever. (from spanky, a feather.)

half a cup of sweat from an angry man's brow.
the corner of when at the opposite of now.
choked emotions tendered as art. the most tender part
of an artichoke's broken heart.

magnetic residue carefully scraped from a length
of forgotten quarter-inch tape. on which is recorded
the right answers to the wrong questions.

the tears of the harlot in the used
car lot. the echoes of a language
that could soothe her anguish.

with music from an orchestra
of broken instruments.

mixed at the precise speed of a man
escaping from can't and fleeing toward can.

salted with the condensation of ocean air
from a lonely night by the pacific,

divided by the square root
of unfair.

hello in there, hello in there.

who does your hair?

sorry,
didn't
mean
to
stare.

.

.

.