Poem for Mark

 

"Spiders sprayed with caffeine spin deformed webs"

 

Only the unobtainable is worth

writing poetry, it is some
sort of primal choking with words

I can't break x's heart, Tahiti is out of the question

to be the perfect mate
for those with mates

I drink Alfred Sunday mornings and Maximus

maximize knees grinding into carpet to give them
the intellectual stimulation they aren't getting
at home

She's not that kinky, she's not interested in Leni,
her lips don't fit around objective correlative
My thumb on my tongue on a bookpage corner on the nape of
sheared association

Two in one metal box

 

I keep wandering around thick glass

thicker glass bricks

glass made of laughter and shoves

 

 

 

 

Quote from "Grab Bag", Sunday Morning Nov. 12, San Francisco Chronicle, L.M. Boyd