Still Life With Dark Cloud

I am so sad. There is a big mound of sad right here in the middle of the room, on top of my pile of collapsing cardboard furniture. It's a big heaping smelly bunch of sad. Every five minutes it whirls around a bit, shifts colors, and gets bigger. Soon there won't be any room for me in this room of sad. Every time the sad gets bigger, it gets heavier. The floor is starting to creak. It's an old, worn out plastic floor, not meant for more than two people to stand on at the same time. This sad is bigger than the both of us. When the floor breaks, it will take me down with it, into the sad. Some people say the sad is dark and black, but it's really grey with flashes of pink and green. When it puffs itself up, you can see many things inside. The things look like they're fun -- there's laughing and poking and painting of cheeks with butterflies -- but they're really quite, quite sad. As it emanates the odor of spilled perfume and old wet towels, the sad pulls me in. It has a magnetic force, it leaves dusty black tracks, it makes me sneeze. It's an armless ventriloquist and a rusty cotton-candy machine. It's popcorn dropped in the grass and stepped on. It's a pair leather ballet shoes soaking in a tub of scummed up rainwater. It's paralyzed lips with the will to kiss. It's teeth falling out when you bite into chocolate cake. It's tripping in front of a bus and getting only half run over. It's the dream of being in your underwear in front of your modern history class and waking up to realize that your class was over years ago and you missed the final. You failed, you never went back. You never bothered until it was too late.

Trying to work on some film related poems:

Ode to Mia
For Mia Kirshner

your long dark hair
with waves glinting
like broken glass embedded in a knee

you always play the crazy ones

you are short childlike
you bought coffee once standing in line
ahead of me
your skin was bad you didn’t look around much
perhaps you noticed I was staring

this was before the crow

when you are a lesbian you are mean

often you wear corsets eye shadow
and are sacrificed

your eyes change color but they always
remind me of a wolf or something
swimming very fast underwater

your neck is so long ethereal
yellow seems made for
knives or hands

sometimes you fall in love
with a bird

sometimes you beg sometimes you
refuse to beg

we want to toss you towards the sky
catch you as your hair flares out
a dark exclamation

you wear a schoolgirl’s uniform
you strip it off men try to
touch places they shouldn’t
women try to part your thighs

sometimes you draw on your
breasts with magic marker

sometimes you are the victim
and they don’t find you
until much too late
--------------

Comments are appreciated, y'all.

Swirly!

awk! I feel so awful when I'm too busy to write. So I made some time. Right here: time!

Trouble with Meat

bella spends two hours at the dinner table

chewing, chewing
…….--- it won’t go down

…….-- a beige paste
she can’t swallow …….-- she can
…… feel tendons …… strings …… rubber cement
…….-- inside it

when her mother looks at her own empty plate
and sighs

…….----- bella takes thumb and forefinger
pull out the mass ……- soft as flesh ……. pink and brown
…….-- it might have tentacles
…….------- the texture like cardboard and sand paper

her mother won’t
……. leave her chair…….-- till bella's through

she doesn’t…….-- understand
…….-- i can’t

her own meatloaf …….-- limp asparagus
limpid pool of butter …….-- finished
as fast as she could shovel
her eyes on bella …….-- bright …….-- foreign
like some strange plant

bella hears her friends outside
Lisa and Gordie discussing a new style of four square
…….----- then the red ball bounces……. with that hollow

…….-------appetizing ping