A particularly beautiful woman is a source of terror. As a rule, a beautiful woman is a terrible disappointment.

More chewy frustrations and a mattress where the springs dig into the flesh.
For a minute there was complete belief.
But through the absolute glory of the heart and libido
and disappointment

You (the collective) put the cold water down
Proved with esteem
Our echo doesn't sound like what you
Retold over eggs benedict

Saying what others want
Flatters not even my lower half

Right now I'm slicing through
Earth's fruit and clear sweet juice
Covers my hands like a sticky tattoo

Simple Things

An espresso after a crème caramel
A home win
Fresh bedsheets

Successful operations
Bread and butter
A drink on the house

A woman playing the piano
With her toes
Sleeping through an earthquake

Tax returns
Buckley’s sigh
Daylight savings

A day without rain
A pint in Mulligan’s
A full on rock

Getting published
Peanut butter

And Grapefruit juice.

A message from the dead

No one who chooses to build a life in this can pull the curtains back enough to bore themselves. Satisfaction may be a perfect basil pesto or a belt high enough on a woman that it acccentuates the mammaries. There's a slow perversion guiding me throughout- the jean skirt discarded on the floor, the tampons and perfume, toast with lemon curd, voices leaking into reveries, another new menu.

Opportunity Knocks (But I Don't Hear)

Working my way
Down glass

There's boundless
Opportunties
Of fruit dropping

And flies stuck
On jars of jam

That literary vineyard
Gets us
Tied and typed up

Does this spill
Stain others?

Sloppy Letters

It’s been part of
Setting off on the wrong foot

You’d think it would be a little
Less of an ordeal

But no

I’m still scraping the barrel
And finding fuck all

Opportunities not knocking
On this thin door

A welcome pattern and some half
Baked self

Keep these letters slipping
Out like greasy shits

Shoot!

First
He took a picture
of himself
With a clear plastic skull
on his
Shoulder


In '71
Michael Netter filmed
him
and Bowie
Whispering


He paid Velvet for their studio time
Some said
they were his
rock group

He paraded at premieres
And hip global openings

Sticky finger painter nightmares
masturbating
To Duran Duran videos

There was a fight
critics wouldn't watch underneath
Open shirts and under dresses

Clean entertainment
with a fright wig

Concentrate

Contemplating a Mc Donald’s Milkshake,
A summer term in Connecticut, table dancers.

Contemplating a suicide bath, Natalie Portman’s mouth,
A theatre’s back door.

Contemplating the definition of friendship, the Guernica
And Transsexual’s on Charring Cross.

Contemplating must and brave yanks, the tenacious,
A bowl of cornflakes.

Contemplating my wardrobe and cold coffee,
The decline of conquest, Christmas in bed.

Contemplating following up wishes, blowing bubbles,
Buying a fishing rod.

Contemplating a woman’s presence and concern,
Le negative, digging up coins in Slough.

Contemplating dental bills, how the solar system works
And why I put this down

While lost women without shadows lay on large beach towels
Waiting for poets.

The Man

You don’t cuss or steal wallets
Don’t eat dessert after each meal

You make your wife laugh
Take your kids fishing
And eat Duck eggs
(Boiled and free range)

You take your 90-year-old mother
To Dorset
Wash dishes and have your name
Stitched into jumpers and t-shirts

You’re a generous tipper
And have greens with every meal

You drink diet Coca Cola
Have insurance (home and life)

You’ll most likely die in your sleep
Or a skiing accident

Beyond Mother of Pearl

Beyond cold shoulders, beyond Demerara sugar
And the first beer.

Beyond her earring lost
In a boite de nuit.

Beyond brogues and dry hands.
Beyond these tourists.

Beyond a dad begging, clean bathrooms,
A journalist who wears
Ladies undergarments.

Beyond morning glory
And Campari hangovers.

Crossing

On Galata Bridge a boy bbq’s small fish,
Gene Sprague’s ghost walks Golden Gate
North to south and back;
You can’t do that on le Viandue de Millau.

In Prague, I let two women take snaps
Of my penis on the Karlu Most,
Down the Florida keys the seven mile
Connects Knight’s to Little Duck,
The Anichkov has horse statues and
Was used in Dostoevsky,

Tourists - don’t confuse Tower with London,
And in Dublin call it ha’penny

No one says Liffey.

Two Bodies

Is this how a slow pervert
Rocks off
Bi polar fantasies

I pull your crop top
Over your head
Throw and lick

I stuff my hand into
The front of your leggings
Work up and shove

This isn’t in the Karma Sutra

You push me out
And kneel
You press
And paw yourself

To get there
Before me