The Actress


Whatever she feels,
   she can pretend to feel

An uninvited guest

Melancholy fears subject to
   whims, styles, fads

No losses

Every so often he heals
   and his healed parts act

a little off

They don’t think you’re funny,
   they think you’re twisted

It’s big, stiff, juicy

We’re never really here and we really
   don’t care what you think

Go steeply in


I used to buy a root beer everyday
   before school

Macho-man, they called me “root beer”

Time ravages them
   they don’t look like before

The stuff, the thin sinew of life

Interstices of bone
   I adore her light tone

Intuitive, yearning, sure


Just two ways of dealing with pain:
   fantasy and stoicism

10 years, cancer of the jaw

30 operations, and all he would take
   was aspirin

She caught a cough

Started spitting blood,
   wouldn’t eat, pale

The black hole of your heart

Dark clouds come
   No one protects me

Our lives create cadavers

Why? You can’t control
   the way your heart beats

She never feels safe



He could mimic anyone
   He resented overly familiar behavior

A talented exile, an innocent outsider

If you felt half the pain you gave me
   you’d be in agony

Happily then reliving some childish thing

Though you left a few hours ago
   I still feel you’re here

You and me

Sometimes you get lost down there...
   O baby, if you only knew

Helicopter dreams— bitter, airy, loud

Beautiful now, she astonished then
   A kind of happy, aristocratic family resemblance

So stark, dark, wild, and proud

-July 18, 2010-