Sunday, January 29, 2012

The Man Of Steel

Man of Steel installs himself two feet
from me
at the bar,
resting his rusted joints.
The years have been hard on his
Steel bones.

He has a wife who is not made
of metal;
she is the ambiance of
a fresh bloom
a spring afternoon
and poofs her hair in the morning.

He wears a charm around his neck,
a talisman,
because a man of
gird cannot
move on his own -
steel is heavy!

A potion of spirits
must surely add to the corrosion in
his joints but it seems
to soften his supportive structure.

All the people,
all the people,
all the people want to know him.
A man buys him another drink;
the bartender leans
over the counter
to reveal her
gourmet mammals.

All shriek and snort around in
merriment and mirth.
Oh, what a great invention by
The Man of Steel! He almost sucked me
in to his illusion, but then I
saw his bandaged elbow dribble
when he bent the glass
to his cheek.

Men of Steel can do many things
but Men of Steel
do not leak!


Agh! He breathes so loud, like
his life
is so important.

Through Fleshly Relations

What has slithered up my insides
and is now resting in pieces?
The unknown's tiny particles are
dispersed when
micturated. White, cotton balls of

Oh, pitiful, vulnerable, beautiful
Cause of the carnal side to
devour me -
inside out; lunching on the
gifts a woman is admired

It is as if the
curvaceous tissue clutches the
wanton plague; as if it desires
a rest from matronly duties.

The Ugly Finds Its Way

I woke that morning
with wrecked legs...both, each,
together and
by themselves,
covered in callous spirals -
offended outbursts from my skin.

Protuberant masses of moments that
climbed upon the backs
of moments that climbed upon the backs of
more moments in which
I needle and threaded
speech to the bottom of my voice box.

No release for the wicked! They are swollen inside
the trachea!
No shouting!
No speaking!
No whispering!

No escape for the lewd but to crawl
through the juicy veins of
my life and surge out of each puny
There was not pain.
There was not ulceration.

All that could be seen
was the ugly, the atrocious that I had
tied to the bottom of my voice box; that I refused to let free!