Sunday, August 12, 2007

not now, darling!

it’s not convenient that you die now,
do you understand?
you haven’t noticed but we’ve had wars.
friends divided over loyalties to henry and rose,
who fought bitterly over cds and books
and unused kishko cutlery sets,
but were happy to see sarah go in the spca van
dilip was finally incarcerated for hitting jane,
but only because we intervened,
and stayed night after sleepless night in vigil
at her side, trying to get the blood stains off the love seat,
playing U2 and Nirvana to drown dilip's rage
as he hurled the garden gnomes at the oak,
howling outside, high on jealousy.
sammy lost an eye battling brush fire
and then lost his job, and we’ve all taken turns
taking care of bobby and sonya,
while he’s stood the dole queues
hoping nobody would notice him.
my days are numb from carrying trays
of six-egg omelets and gravy,
the night shifts have left me not a single minute to think
about broken nails and straw hair and coffee gone cold.

tina told us about the rejection letter and your drunken binge
that has lasted three months and how the doctor was surprised
to see your tequila riddled pancreas still working.
so don’t tell me you are dying now,
dying, giving up the ghost, kicking the bucket
because your muse has been unkind to you.
i have exhausted empathy, have no words of comfort,
am tired to the bone and quite empty of tears.
and white my dear, has never been my color.

Friday, August 03, 2007


stand up. stand up.
face the drunken sods,
say, ‘fuck you, Krishna’
in free verse or rhyme.
it could mean inclusion tomorrow,
among page three poets,
and one free whiskey now.

my throat is parched,
my fingers aching
to clutch that cold glass
of iced amber fire.

the girl in the silver lace dress
has been looking at me
as if she would be warmth.
if only i could move my cold feet
and break a principle or two.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Good Intentions 2.

you again?
haven’t i told you
i don’t want to be
your good deed for the day?

of course i’ve been weeping.
the irrawady dolphins
have depleted, sad, no?
see, it says so on the newspaper
i’ve stuck on the windows.
oh that’s for the sun.
he insists on intruding.
see that beam there? laserlike.
searching for proof
just like you.
so you can send me away.
i won’t let you, you know.

sure, my friends are here
they’ve retreated in the shadows.
they know you won’t try too hard.
you have to pick up Tina
from her dance lesson in twenty minutes.

don’t look at me like that!
i haven’t lost my mind you know
i’ve just let some friends in there.
i was so lonely after he left me.
yes, i did run after him
from the kitchen to the front door,
in my news stilletoes,
i was chopping cabbage for coleslaw;
“don’t leave me!” i cried,
but he was in a hurry, i suppose,
why wait when love has gone?
i think i must’ve tripped,
when i lunged for the door,
"don’t leave me!" i said, he left
three and a half fingers
of his right hand,
i’ve kept them safe
right there, in the butter dish.

Good Intentions

Oh it’s you again?
Come in if you must.
But don’t look at me this way!
There’s no need to let so much sunlight in!
What did you say?
Oh that! Yes, yes,
The pain is filling up the cracks quite well, thank you.
I would get out of these ex-pink pajamas,
And walk down with you towards a macchiato,
But the elevator has turned hostile.
It says: ‘five persons at a time only’.
You know I have been playing host,
You know I cannot abandon them here,
Just because you show up, with an hour to kill
Hoping I will gladly be your Thursday afternoon good deed.
No, no! Don’t throw the cups into the garbage.
How can you throw them simply because an ear is missing?
Because the rim is chipped?
I shall clean up later.
I don’t mind that pizza slice sitting on the table.
If I don’t understand its loneliness, who will?
But I haven’t been lonely, no!
The voices have been company, of sorts,
And I assure you there’s room for more.
I don’t want to go out for a fresh dose of traffic fumes.
You see, they don’t want me out there.
The stop lights hurry me away by freezing on ‘go’,
Even the usually bothersome eunuchs ignore me.
No soot-colored hand will sell me cheap Chinese toys.
If I should idly dial 2-6-4-0-7-3-8-3,
The girl would say, “Yes. We make bean bags
But they are meant for people full of ‘em,
Not for some woman who wonders why
There’s a gap between the letters ‘wel’ and ‘come’
On the rear windshields of taxi cabs.
"My head is occupied, trust me,
I am doing just fine.
So do me a favor dear, please draw the blinds
And shut the door quietly behind you.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007


once upon a time,
this would have been,
a david lynch scene:
pale white on white
and blue roses mourning.
should i add calming salts
i wonder, as i slide in.
thirteen months of being alone
has made me somewhat pale,
the knife offers a flash of reflection
but no second thoughts,
this must be the way
to quiet sighless waters.


please blink.
you look too directly
into my head.
there are thoughts there,
that must remain thoughts,
they cannot become words
between us.

please blink.
you look too directly
at my heart.
it changes the familiar tattoo
and i stumble, dancing.
across the room you smile
those eyes fixed
in their intent.

please blink.
you look too directly
at me.
it sears my skin
dry, traps the words
inside my throat
i stand inarticulate
to your suggestion.
you raise a silent toast
you know how i feel.

please blink.
you look too directly
at me.