City of Love #1
I'm scouring my pots and pans so hard my reflections
I'm scouring my pots and pans so hard my reflections
are turning steel wool. In a few weeks I'll be
as thin
as my finger nails, stuck in a cave of sticky
memory.
She left me for a 40 yr. old kid who lives
under a bomb factory.
Muttonchops didn't even say Good bye, just
emailed:
You and I have always been on
the fence, but I have
always loved the smell of dandelions. They
even grow
in the back lots of the city. Dandelions are
tough.
You can't be soft here. You
can't be like spoonbread.
Why does love hit like an artillery
punch? I worry about
sleeping alone, about my ambient
snores, the white stereo
of my sonic dreams, what the cat will think of
my pajamas.
I'll live on lobster colored crumbs and bones
minus flesh.
At the bedroom door, my feet
stutter. I wonder if there
is a planet that quivers like Jell-O. I sense
an alien presence
in my bed. Snoring just like me.
Bartleby
His wife discovered he had hung himself,
His wife discovered he had hung himself,
swinging from the last full-hunger moon of
winter.
She carefully cut the celestial rope, a brand
he
had purchased online, a site called Hitch_A_Comet.com.
With his limp body freed, stars crashed around
her.
She dragged him back to the house, cursing
both him
and
her tight-fitting shoes. She removed his best Sunday suit,
an
imported tweed from Hungary, his suede soft-sole shoes
and
searched his pockets. They were not empty, were full of night,
the
distant voices of women, laughing, spilling from unmanned satellites.
Mean
Streets #5
She has you strung on orange wang tang
and psychological orgasms. You'll die
for artificial sweeteners but she loves
getting kinky with a top hat just when
you're hung upside down, internal clocks
blind.She has you strung on orange wang tang
and psychological orgasms. You'll die
for artificial sweeteners but she loves
getting kinky with a top hat just when
Again, she leaves you feeling trapped
inside your own urine samples.
You've always been addicted to the rain.
On the streets, a ratty girl is spreading
rumors that you're already dead.
Kyle Hemmings is the author of several chapbooks of poems: Avenue C (Scars Publications), Cat People (Scars), Fuzzy Logic (Punkin Press), and
Tokyo Girls in Science Fiction (NAP). His latest ebook is Moon Down Girl from Trestle Press. He blogs at http://upatberggasse19. blogspot.com/
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