Advice To Spaceman

So they say,
there is not a thing worse than a little spilled paint,
there is nothing worse than a few sharp memories of pain,
come to me,
dear fallow visitors from the outer space,
and let us partake in the creation myth that "man came from ape",
a thousand years ago he walked with a limp,
with a scratch,
his table-top brow meant somehow to house families of fleas,

now he moves on land-locked knees
still hunting snatch but
detached from those meandering avenues
in the trees,

Great Pyramid,
tell us your Secret,
allowed to keep it for so long despite wandering wicked deacons who
frequent your WELCOME mat in zebra skins and fur seal hats
distributing leaflets about the posthumous deaths
of the sons of Giza,

we fall at the porcelain sandals of saints atop statues with
inscriptions of virtue but beg daddy to withhold the belt
waiting to be dealt against our pale pelts when we sneak in
past curfew
without even so much as a thank you,

if you're here on vacation,
dead little space man,
my advice to you from a heart long overdue for review,
is to get back into your metallic hovering transportation,
reverse the gravitation (or whatever it is you do),
set your navigation for the farthest constellation,

and find recreation elsewhere.

TA

Not My Ginger Boys

I want my ginger boys bled,
with ginger-covered blood
flowing like fine wine
from the empty eye socket holes in their heads,
crows perch petulantly on their stiff corpse bones
cawing laments for the dead,
no one thinks the ginger boys should remain alive instead,
they made their beds
i.e. bright fiery orange pubes between their legs
where from such burning bushes rise obelisks of flesh,
pink poles where carrion claws roost with wings spread,
purebred ginger gentlemen
aligned head-to-toe out back in the flowerbed,
their crimson covered scalps hanging near the garden trowels in the tool shed,
drying,
a widespread absence of a freckle-faced race,
I want my ginger boys bled,

those were the words of Sugar Ray Neggin,
that's what he said.

TA

Sugar Bee

I am blue cheese
and minced meat
dr pepper soaking into the car seat
I am a three-day old three-meat po-boy
soaking up the microwave heat
I am a lemon tart smile
and cotton candy sweet
I am rotten fruit on the street
I am the sugar beat
but not the sugar bee
I am glucose substitutions
now obsolete
I am a leftover biscuit like concrete
I am ketchup stains on your pants pleat
I am the cute cashier's telephone number
scribbled clumsy
on the grocery receipt
I am flax
I am seed
I am wheat
I am the kind of woman
your momma tells you
you should keep.

TA

Cold and Pale

We were vexed and rebels
lurking in curtains of whispers
heavenbound but hellish in the present

she slipped out of her golden flats
tip-toed through the morning grass where in passing
dark footprints were all that was left of her sunrise dancing

she shook like a shivering child when she laughed
made me crawl cold and pale from her bed
amble stiffly down dim halls
and run her a bath.

TA

Linda

Even Linda with the tepid shoulders and soldier's chin
can pour better red wine
when the cold holds close to the house
and the fire is loud,
she stands facing the mirror
in freckles and a dragon's nest of curly hair
pale because of an absent sun
but eager to spill wine until the drinking is done,
in the candle glow her tears fall unexposed to the stone floor
past that fragile spine of her nose
splashing under the sound of raucous laughter
in a room full of Jimmies and Joes,
would Linda could
she'd arrest from the shackles of this spectacle a quick death
after slipping the knife through the hearts of every man there in the dark
she'd slip it beneath her own breast.

TA

Mother And Mass

Momma poured me over a hot bowl of rice dressing,
kissed my coiled tender flanks and cursed me
with an honest woman's wayward blessing:

"Tis the season," she cried, "to learn life's lessons..."
she spanked me harsh against my underside
until blue my balls dropped in a fresh flesh crescent,
my cheeks reddened and my ruddy ass gash puckered for protection,
I was destined to be this grey-haired harlot's insatiable delicatessen,
but before she could proceed to consume her possession
I posed her only one last question,
with creamy macaroni smeared betwixt my pale thighs
I looked heavenward into her dead eyes and
fixed her with a sullen expression:

"If this be the path to adolescence," I posed,
"and you be but the Lord's servant delivering His ethereal message,
then why overly spike your cup
and spoil this poor innocent vessel?"

She smiled as most mothers often do,
scooped a clump of cheddar cheese from my boy's beef stew,
"I find your questions depressing," she said,
"bend over on the tile
while I sip you like Sunday service refreshments."

TA

Of A Man

Love ripped at her soft skin like a wild-eye'd wolf
hungry
horny
horngry
slathering saliva where his kisses had once been
her bedded burden
she felt the weight of every sin
and every man
pressing in
the cold dead forest breathing o'er her dorsal fin
the twin towers of her breasts topped with bright cherry marbles
pouring from a heaving chest
a startled sparrow in her eyes
an aching emptiness between her thighs
where the lies of strangers
became her savior

and later her anger

the thick black fur coat of time wrapped itself around her
like a bright newborn babe swaddled in a filthy manger
straw and donkey piss the container
all mankind's favor
nourishment
or
nature

she tore away into the woods to face the danger
to feel the sting of the branches
bastards
beasts be damned
she'd wager her life against the land
Love gotten out of hand
she felt herself
for herself
but craved the touch of a...

TA

Susannah

baby oh baby
come
brown nipples
dirty feet
stay sweet, Susannah
the things that went to sleep in tired Alabama
old people with quarters
no place to spend 'em
no place to send 'em
skeleton crew in overalls and denim
brown grass in the cracks
sticks and needles
artists with easels
painting the portraits of medieval churches
absent their elegant steeples

what you're doing is illegal
Susannah naked on my couch
a roach in her mouth
my personal freak show
baby oh baby blow
take me off the pill
brown leaves
purple toes
Susannah's blood in the fresh snow
true love
true love in the dark forest
where even I will not go.

TA