New Poems

"Our Survey Told Us What You Wanted..."

Will it never end?Sometimes you think the Muse ain't comin' back, at least not to this neighborhood and then all of a sudden she's dragging you into the men's room for a quickie. I hope you like these latest efforts, because I think they cost me a bundle.
Pax Novum
As Jim put it, "Remember Pearl Harbor; you can never go home again..."

The Poemery

Cafe Copioh, May 1997
Rumrunner
The Cafe on Omega Drive

Cafe Copioh, May 1997
(1997)
Your lover steps in to ask me how I am.
I'm in Vegas, I know no one, I'm wonderful.
He shakes out another cigarette, lights it and moves off.
I smile him away (and today, now, I'm thinking about his eyes).
He holds you - I never dared, never hoped;
Your bones stick out, I'm afraid of that.
I can see you though, leaning back into his arms, exhausted
with the day, almost dreaming
Talking nonsense and love, calmly rumbling on mutual attraction.
We were all denial, sweetheart. Absent
almost from the beginning and fond hearts and all
but no deep holding late in the morning, no casual brushes
with meaning.
He's your boy.
I see reflections and echoes, I shake my hair out.
I wait for your lover, or for you.
I take another drink. I'm in Vegas again.
index

Rumrunner
(1997)
The k-k-klaxon burning
The lights smoking
The brakes frying
The chrome flaring
ENGINE FIVE IS ON FIRE.
ENGINE FIVE IS PROMPT.
Doom on six -- stench of charring rubber
Skeleton grips the melting plastic wheel
Grins as the wild
Sparking, flashing, wailing heat takes shape and substance
ENGINE FIVE IS ON FIRE.
ENGINE FIVE IS ON THE LOOSE.
Buzzbomb nearing
Exploding headlights arc
Roughshod trailblazer ripping over lawns
Flashfire trees, flaming children
ENGINE FIVE IS COMING.
ENGINE FIVE KNOWS YOUR NAME.
Liquid flame in the hoses
Sharp flame of the axe
Black and red flame of the firedog
Flame rungs on a flame ladder
ENGINE FIVE IS CLEVER.
ENGINE FIVE HAS A PLAN.
Can't think
Can't breathe
Can't maneuver
Just burn
ENGINE FIVE IS UNSTOPPABLE.
ENGINE FIVE IS SCREAMING.
Cremating comet of steel
Flashes down the boulevard at twelve
Close your eyes for the ashes
Say a prayer for the smoky night
index

The Cafe on Omega Drive
(1997)
Jahweh
Methuselah broods in dank paper corners
He mumbles spastically, wishes dream women could hear,
leans on his horns, signals his troops
They drink time here; Here they drink scattered omnipresent ashes of memory
Steeped in amber, sweetened with oil, born again in oil.
A toast to the final days.
A toast, lads.
Java
Angels with black lipstick clasp hands,
Bare burning swords fiercely, reminiscent Paradise. Remember. Remember.
They walk so slowly
Broken wings and promises scattering blushed feathers.
Ragnarok rings and it's for you. The end is near.
The end is always near.
Jehovah
Father Confessor at the bar sprouting children
Takes in the shadows as they come through the door.
Panic streetlamps Converse hustlers,
Lighting their skitters, lighting their change of course.
Change your confession. Confess. Confess. There's no time like the present.
There's no time.
Kahawa
Pallas-faced, but her black hair stiffens
like someone blew her brains out.
While violins stutter and smoke curls,
curls and tastes of mint, smolders,
Curls into Armageddon signs
She falls forward smiling, the exit in the glass.
Coffee
Dark mystic mirror chicks, mem'ries of my soul
Dance on tables, slide waterhearts with cracked fingernails
Smile at nothing, nothing smiles, waiting, waiting
For fire, for ice, for deluge
Reflect upon reflections of fire, of ice, of deluge
Wait for the rain. Wait. Wait.
index

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Those who write can drop a line to misterdark@mail.oocities.com