Banana Knuckles

to all

2009-09-16T18:51:00.000-07:00

to all you are all, but all of -you.to allyou are [caged]mockingbird can't singwhile tied to a string.to all you are not. all a ruse, to confuse, amuse, bemuse?into allyou d i s a p p e a r...p a r t i c l e sdispersing,shedding,MOLTINGlike a snake. crisp.papered. funnels. leftin your ...... wake.....to all.

Bugs

2008-11-27T07:22:00.000-08:00

Unfurled from my web, he meanders, Sidestepping my venom en rout.I want to spit, but cannotWant to pounce and devour,But cannot.I know your games, your sly little exitThrough the side exit.You melt into the shadows,Scampering like a roachIn my kitchen,When I’ve turned on the lights. Be a coward, slip away. Keep it easy, baby.Cradle yourself…Be what you need, Because I know, I had you in my web,

2008-08-03T19:19:00.001-07:00

Dirty fingernails tap it out, trail the end of the end of the beginning.Swallow your pride girlie, you weren’t worth it. Keep telling yourself it wasn’t meant, just not meant, to be meant to be. Youth evades your grasp, for beauty is temporary in the eyes of its beholders, flawing quickly, fading into the banal, lost to another moving image. Another moving fantasy. Another false attempt, to make

curdling

2008-04-01T11:40:00.001-07:00

Stuff my hand Beneath the pillow, Nights not the same Without you. Its getting better My mind now coasts Right past you. And when I pray Its not for you; Its for me. Not us To work, To last, Because it doesn’t matter Anymore. Too much lost, Too much gone, Too much past. I can’t face you in life I can’t face you in sleep We’ve curdled And all that was sweet Has soured.

In the process of...

2008-03-10T17:53:00.001-07:00

Starting now, I am going to start posting paintings that I am working on. I haven't painted in a while, and so I can use all the help I can get. So artistic people, please help me out with any ideas or tips you have for me. This is Pat's painting (right). He wanted a tree with a green and cobalt color scheme.He wants it to look like this other tree

I don't know

2008-03-10T17:11:00.000-07:00

Under my skin, you cling,a tendon running the length of my torso.My heart entangled amongst a web of nerves,tentacles, twisting a hangman's noose -you have pulled,injecting my veinswith your hurt. I feel it.I feelyou-lining me, salty as bone-marrow.I have lost you,and now I lay on the floor,collapsed, a puddle of flesh and fluid and tears,my backbone in retreat. I have broken my bones,and so they

Reverberation

2008-01-19T12:48:00.000-08:00

Palm in cupshape, Fashioned, Drum a sound. Sound a beat, Beat a rhythm. Fingers dash, dash and tap Breath, Exhale. Louder, louder, louder! Pulsing, steady, harder, Accelerando! Panting, panting, Gasping, but steady, Hold steady! Hold steady! Silencio! Tapping, lightly tapping; Rising, calm Trickle, Like rain, Beading, gathering, Then streaming, Blending Into sound,

Side Note on B-more

2008-01-08T10:22:00.000-08:00

With rockets and bombs we have blast forth the New Year, 2008. Ripe with potential, and frothing at the lip of a full glass of champagne, this virginal calendar burgeons for us a new beginning, a fresh start. For Baltimore: The Greatest City in America, the New Year provides an empty page, and akin to a wash of Listerine, Baltimoreans are hopeful that this New Year will cascade through our

Maybe for Nancy and Tom

2007-11-26T09:28:00.000-08:00

We are selling the couch today to some couple –Nancy and Tom. Nancy and Tom were definitive;Exact in what exactly they were looking for Eager, precisely, for a tan and pleather couch. In fact, They’ve got to have it today, “As soon as possible,” they said. My response was delight, “No problem!” I said, wanting to rid myself of the tan and pleather object. How I hate its obtrusive

TO Joe

2007-11-04T11:28:00.000-08:00

"I’ve got to fold because these hands are just too shaky to hold, Hunger hurts, but starving works when it costs too much to love..." ‘you’re crazy’ he says with a flick of spit and a point to his head. ‘you’re crazy’ I thought, my stomach like lead. I want, I dream, I hope, I try and I have a bad day..there’s only so much to do and not to do…

Undertow

2007-11-04T11:24:00.000-08:00

You say for you there will be no between— Between the two of us. Click your heels, raise your voice, bitter the scene; Count the stars, number our days, fluff and preen. But, do not, my friend, fly the cusp. Do not invade the sanctity behind Sullen instigation. Instead, let us be, as is; think to find Resolve shucking pebbles within our minds

Little Dreams

2007-11-04T11:14:00.000-08:00

Child Guinivere cries in her sleeping, Undulating beneath the damp thick of sweat. Her chest quavers in fear of dreams dark. Hidden below her pillow, silvery sharks slash babies to tears. Somewhere, in a place dry, Dragons do

2007-10-17T13:33:00.001-07:00

Walk PoemIt’s 9:30 in the morning, and either their early or I’m late. Heavy high in hue of hate of remnants of an early rising state. Cherry blossoms blooming, pink- pale -Peace. Solemn in stride stale sobriety. Eight weeks clean, now. Guinivere dreamed her way into a bed of water. I found her treading the pillows, the mattress Screaming of a shark, pink-pale. With human arms.

2007-08-06T12:12:00.000-07:00

Bricks I stand against the current of vertical laid brick, red hard beneath my leathered feet. The sun against my back warmth pressing into my spine. I rest in its arms, swaying only when the current of brick and breeze buckle me to my knees. Ever moving in this stand still, this perpetually stationary stance, bracing me, I bracing,

summertime and the living is easy

2005-12-06T13:30:00.000-08:00

First there was a vegetable garden: tomatoes, zucchini, squash, rosemary, thyme and sage. We patched it together with four wooden slabs and a chunk of rocky earth. It rained hard in the evenings, but the sun was heavy and hot. The herbs were moved indoors and a tomato plant perished.My daughter refused to swim. She thought sharks lived in swimming pools. In the night, she would awake, terrified,

Walking in the Write (week 9)

2005-11-01T18:57:00.000-08:00

I write in necessity. Like taking a long awaited shit in the privacy of your own home or gulping down a cold glass of milk on an empty stomach, I find that writing is impulsive, unpredictable, and an urge that will hit me sporadically, and often indefinitely. There is no method to the madness, only a few rules. I cannot write while someone is chatting with me. I cannot write while listening to

Whole of hOly

2005-10-24T05:41:00.000-07:00

The Whole of HolyWe live in it; we eat from it; we screw from it or in it; and we are born from it, and die to it. It is a form of transportation: psychologically, spiritually, emotionally, and physically. It is a transformation, transcendence: a motion, an action, an entity, a love, a loss, an answer, a void, a wanting. It is a geographic location, a connection between space and time, desire,

Ceramic Heaven

2005-10-18T21:40:00.000-07:00

I love my new bathtub. It is a haven, a ceramic utopia, a bowl of rest, of steamy hot water rushing against my naked skin and stiffened muscles. I clean it often. I scour the yellow tile walls and the browned white of its bottom almost daily. In the morning, in the midst of my morning pee, I will dream of it, of the time, of when I am able to basque in its potential for glorious satisfaction. In

Bag it (week 6)

2005-10-17T07:51:00.000-07:00

From large kiddie-printed plastic, spill-proof duffles to a mini-bright red leather pit-purse, I have found one consistency: I carry junk. Old receipts, unopened bills, notes, gum wrappers, emptied old plastic baggies, and business cards stuff my bags to the brim, hiding anything of importance. I once felt that the bigger the purse, the more potential I had of bringing with me

Lets Play Ball (Week 5)

2005-10-03T06:14:00.000-07:00

I once was a criminal. That’s what they said. Cuffed, arms twisted, metal tight, cold, pressed, digging into my wrists. Set my elbows straight, I asked.No one answered. They’re too tight, I said. No one heard me. One cop looked, rolled his eyes. You should’ve thought of that, he said. I should of thought of that. That’s what they always said. I wasn’t a criminal, just a girl. They didn’t get

Escaping Ground Zero

2005-09-26T07:43:00.000-07:00

There was a tunnel, deep and long and gray in the peripheral. The exit was black not white. Black ghosts swam in out, melting, peeling, cracking, and swirling through her, pulling at her wrists, her fingers, her toes. No she cried, I don’t want to go. There was no light, just darkness. It was black. She fought, they pulled. The beings whispered and sneered. She opened her eyes. It was all still

Funkier than a Mosquito's Tweeter

2005-09-19T04:23:00.000-07:00

At the tip of my tongue I feel a terribly romantic notion that life as I want it would be some sort of reveling: to wake up in the morning guiltless, with no conclusions, pretexts, misconceptions,

Purple muumuus and a Pruny thumb

2005-09-12T04:24:00.000-07:00

Purple silky shine pressed between the index and thumb of my right hand. Soft soggy left thumb pruned by intense salivation. Suck and rub, suck and rub. There was nothing better. My mother hated that I sucked my thumb. She hated that I carried around a muumuu. And she especially hated

Crispy Leg-Pulling

2005-09-06T13:26:00.000-07:00

I’ve always found something comforting in the crackle of tobacco and the hiss of burning rolling paper. With the springboard of a striking match or a clicking lighter, the sound is practically music. Breathing adds originality to the composition, with short, quick inhalations and exhalations sounding a bit like a series of staccatos, and those with long deep expresses reminiscent of a

tester

2005-09-06T12:07:00.000-07:00

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