Tuesday, September 22, 2009

lesson plan

i take the book you made out for coffee, walk along clay until it crests over hyde and i can smile again, weave past grace cathedral, 40’s and shorts on the swing set and i fall in love with you at Front Porch drinking drinks with kumquats and rum, flicks of salt disappearing, lips pressed to mason jars, wrappers leftover from japanese candy, 111 minna, some girl’s gold necklace, lamp light reflecting, grey goose and art galleries, thick throated and insecure, while north beach vomits strip clubs and boutiques, scares away hipsters, and at 3am i make a home for you in the space between my breasts, mismatched fabrics hanging over head, cork board alley smiles and

what’s your name again?

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

mal practica

id give you the shirt off
my back
, youre saying
all playful puppy eyed shoulders
give me those freckles, put
them in my mouth
raindrops are eyelash
hugs, keep
making lists, lover, we'll
get it all done
babies, birds and that
lady in an orange dress
were so distractable
in our pigeon holes, wet naps
and canteens
be my life preserver
formaldahide me in your promises
that space between your neck and back
like
wild horses and kittens

please, lets fly to paraguay
shoreline light flirting
with hands wrapped up
at the
baggage claim
dont take everything so
personal
dearest darling bear boy
were a two person
mime troupe, come
talk to me in hands