My daughter comes home later and later each night.
I worry, sometimes I cry.
I always ask her what’s kept her.
Boys? She’s too young (I think),
but that would be sort of ok.
Drugs? My body starts stinking of terror.
The answer she gives me is always the same:
“Father”, she says. “You just can’t understand”.
ooooops, SHEEET! how did that happen? now what? run!!! i AM running... where to?! home. GO HOME. ... no, no no nononono No. not home....
packing for hell - unordered
a knife and matches
(scratch out the matches)
it will be fun
with fires below
and fires above
what am i forgettin'
an ocean of love.
i (god) should’ve had coffee first
i close my eyes and roll the dice. fortuna said, 'shit, monkey's on the rise'!
Remember that summer we hitchhiked?
You asked where my soul blossoms.
I said ‘at the end of a road , I have traveled alone’.
I haven't told another lie since.
echoes of hamelin
it is so silent in town
at the peak of the festival.
No children's laughter anywhere.
Hour of the wolves
when you float through the streets of the city and your soles stick,
into the gooey stuff of last night's delirium - the kick of it all gone now
and the void it left is all filled with puke and a headache - in the hour when the city itself is still not quite awake - the wolves hour they call it. when you stagger, half drunk, half into noman's land of hangover and if you happen to be i:
• my breath escapes in hick-ups - foul and fiery like i was Godzilla
• i sway and i stumble
• i choke on the tar of a thousand fags overnight
• i see the world dance in the vapors of booze
• the city now silhouetted against a paling sky
• windows of early saturday risers, flaring up, smell of coffee
• my eyes dry and hot as the Sahara (i hoped they didn't glow on their own)
• and in the glare of headlights - - A GIRL is walking against me-
a dazzling swirl of beauty.
i see HER in slow mo, yet i am too overwhelmed to pin point an aspect i love so completely, so strong and already.
I thought I had been in love with anna.
Now I know that is bulshit. Love blows you away in a single gust. everything about THE GIRL falls in place like music.
I see a drunk, staggering against me. he doesn't quite look like a bum. But close.
• Unshaved, coming out of a bad drunk. Maybe didn’t go to sleep at all.
• At least he washed his face, I doubt that he brushed his teeth.
• Filthy shorts and that t-shirt looks contagious to the touch.
• No woman to lay for the night - he went to a party, it’s over and now he’s alone.
• Does he make Money?! Haha, that drunken shit sack can’t afford a cab.
• Or maybe he also likes walking in the hour before dawn. His body is strong, it is not his first time to stagger alone in the sunrise. Just like I do. Except I am fit , I am sober and I can kick his ass anytime. For this was MY hour – the time when the wolves come out to stalk their pray. I am a poet and I feed on the city.
'Do you think so?', he says as we are almost face to face, about to pass on the sidewalk.
'Excuse me?' , say I.
'About kicking my ass', he says. ' Not that I would mind to wrestle with you… but I like your ass way too much to bruise it'. Except for he stops talking after 'wrestle' , or his lips stop moving, that is. He thinks that he is just thinking and has stopped speaking , just in time to avoid becoming a fucken rude asshole. But I hear it anyways. His effort strikes me as sweet and I can’t help a smile. His eyes meet mine and those bloodshot liquored- up eyes light up - crooked teeth frame His SMILE.
I thought I was JUST THINKING of kicking his ass. We both freeze and stare at each other. I know that he knows all my thoughts before I will speak them. He knows that I know His, before HE will think them. An explosion happens, WE are the center. There is no time or need to explain – WE know.
'My place or yours', I hear my self think, but before I can say it, he is already kissing me.
Ughhhh – that breath!
a moonpath floats
across a lake I've never seen before.
your hairlocs are soft between my fingers.