images

maybe an image or two and then i'll write about dabney, and some other newer stuff.

I can't think, with this Hot For Teacher Van Halen song. It's distracting.

lluvia, pear blossoms, and crystal earrings in a glass
sparking a lantern, lighting a cigarette, flashing the spotlight at the fish
tropical fish in an olympic size pool of pyramids liquified
sand on the bottom, fountains on the top
magnolia and blackbird all my notes and songs
run together, putting out the fire of the flamethrower
merit speaks for herself, as the hula rolls down the length of her arm
crazy flippin' toad. hopping, hopscotching across the lilypads like a lover
from bed to bed gripping the edge as it dips and spins and onto the next
fish nibble at the edge of the green and turtles paddle by,
watching, noticing everything
umbrellas, umbrellas, lluvia and rihannas umbrellas
making magic making weather forecasters wonder at the prophetic
do not write a song about earthquakes rihanna.
you will kill us all
we will slip through the cracks and never be saved with the hook
a melody to fight for, a hook for footing.
there are never enough ways to hook a fish
so many different kinds of bait, in the big pond
lap swim and flashing lightbulbs
catching me unaware as i come up for air and find the same toad on
another lilypad
these are wrinkled, crinkled, fading lilypads. these are nibbled on
and bitten and brown and turning into mud for the bottom feeders
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pulling off the toenail, stubbed toe months ago
so, so, gross and with some kind of pride, it comes off,
you're a surgeon. you have something special. you cut yourself, stitch
yourself, and pull yourself apart and watch without fainting.
wading through a swampy mog muddle of mindless coursing
the only point is beneath the thick water
under one of the branches crawling into the earth
tripwires in the trees and one wrong step will land you face down
pick yourself up by your bootstraps, by your wide ankle lady gator heel straps
by your bookstraps and bookpack, knapsack and bootlegger craps.
the strings holding the glasses to your nose.
pick yourself up by those, mi lady
***********************************************
damn the castle and the moat
give me a shack and a rowboat
dance with me to
the rhythm of the night
debarge, disembark
stand stark broken on the island
like a pelican, picking up one foot at a time
bending the other to practice balance
one foot on the water one on the sand
oh lands, what kind of man i am
to throw the dice straight into the air
while we are still on the ferris wheel
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socks still drying, wet and hanging on the line
a butterfly alights, pawing like a kitten on the carpet
pulling moisture to cool the spindly feet
no socks no shoes, just wings
it is good we do not have wings
we would fly too high, too fast, and too far,
giving nothing a moment's chance and we would be
stuck to the leaves with our thin crepes
weighted down by florida or the keys
or san juans or seattle or portland
where is my fucking mail anyway
my coat of armor
the steel to fly me right and out of the rain
windowlight, bench, pane
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twisted peppermint stick lick
red and white skirt twirling
uplift at the grate
my nerves you pinch and pull
manipulating the black and white
for gray
red and white for pink
pink roses, pink lipstick, pink parties
no. i don't want those
the longer i lick the straighter the stick
even out the coils
you cannot recoil
too late
my lips are red, my tongue is pink,
and the holy wand of rule is white
i cast you out with my spit
a white stick unfurls into a flag
raised on a hill
if you look you will be healed
the fight has not gone out of you yet
you forget
you forgot who i was and you forgot what
the scent of white asiatic lilies is like
when all the windows are shut
and the door is pulled tight
and nothing is left
but a red sludge of oil on canvas.
***************************************************
i guess no body wants me to be a waitress really
they want me to sit in a chair all day and write poetry
aha! if only i'd known all those doctors really adore me.
ehhhhverybody luvs me
what a fool i've been to think i was hated
what a christsake chrysanthamum fool i've been to think such
a thing when i can dance, write, and sing
so much better than that silly waitressing
nevermind i'm broke, i have "something"
we don't know what it is yet
but all of washington state is waiting
hoping for a miracle of my capture
kill the beast! oh wait...she's a rather lovely thing
(shhh! just like lucifer, you think?)
wait! i have sent out our spies and she is LAUGHING
(do you think perhaps she might BE crazy?)
oblivious to the whole scheme
or making patsies out of posies and
pancakes out of dredged flour

oh my dears, i have so many ways of staying positive
dear baby banker's flings, you should learn a thing or 2
from me now...flour is fine for face power
and olive oil works at night--
just...do not get too close to candlelight

i can give you 101 ways to be beautiful from the inside
and the outside at a fraction of the cost of your poor bankers bill
it's time to think like a hippie you yuppies, guppies, hipsters, and socialites
egg white, kelp, olive oil, cucumber, lemon, milk & honey, and i will
even give away the middle eastern secret for a good leg & bikini wax
(not that i use it myself, but the flaxen hairless fillies may need the
info to keep their men-- or else, who knows, you might be traded in, like stocks,
for a younger girl who doesn't cost as much, you know, a college girl who
is new to the school)

do not use olive oil on your hair for deep conditioning
you will never get it out
use apple cider vinegar for a good cleansing rinse and
to make it shine but yes, it will stink.
it's the economy, girlfriend--time to make difficult choices
stink or shine
************************************

i think i'm done with my images. i'm getting silly now and laughing

how i love this song: "angel" by aerosmith...hmmm...maybe i could get inspired again. need a minute to think about it. okay, one more..., for somebody out there and i don't know who...
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blanket, tarp, carp, black fishnet of a fence
oh throw me in and tie me up like a ham or a turkey
which is funnier? a ham or a turkey?
chicken isn't very funny oh but maybe a cornish hen
okay, i'll be a cornish hen in fishnet
my hair is not in fishnet--i am not a cook
i am a femme fatale
and i'm about to be killed tonight i think
my head is gone, i am in the grocery aisle
guess who i am? i am not the author, i am
your girlfriend
your girlfriend is a $20 novella a noche
damame mi dinero orrita
sleep with a cypress and a juanita and a birch tree
sleep with a spider and the wind and alicia villareal
sleep with a juniper and decide a mi
tu nessecite mi imaginacion, no mas, si?
en realidad, tu creo y tu quieres mi imaginacion y mi cabeza
tu otra novia esta la rack de lamb
es verdad, yo sabes
so mi espanol no esta bueno pero who cares
no persona
you should escuche mi italiano
cuando yo cantar "tu lo sai"
uno tiempo i was quince anos y por la conservidad a musica de san francisco
orrita i am for me, sola
*************************************************************************
when the moon crumbles into dust like a clump of dried dirt
roots of the universe will streak like lightening
pulling together every star, every asteroid daring to fall
tentacles of a gravitational pull will
hold together the rest of this planetary system
reaching out like the claws of a machine
gathering the stars together into a new moon
assembling every grain of light into a new flower
morning glory
it is darkest before dawn
it is also dark at dusk
quiet in the tunnel
terrible in the field
********************************************
i like it! i like my last poema a little bit, just a tiny bit. i don't know, i'll change my mind later probably.
*****************************************
plums, i see so many plums!
plums in both of my hands
plums on the trees, on the ground, on the rug in the parlor
plums, purple and tangerines too, rolling across the floor
down the stairs, all these beautiful tangerines tumbling
down this winding staircase,
falling from the gold frame
falling from the orchid bouquet and fruit bowl
i think the cat knocked it over
no, it was a leopard! it's the one that will never
change it's spots
not for you or me or anyone
just knocking things over a little bit so we notice
the beauty in the chaos, you think?
what do you think?
i think we should slide down the bannister
while the plums and tangerines are falling
out of the paintings
***************************
tomorrow i will be a proper lady
i'll fake my decency and my humility
i will smile and who knows, curtsey?
i will not swear or drink openly
only if i can drink with camilla
toasting to defamation from the enquirer
because we all really wanted to know
how much she likes a drink now and then
i will say nothing of my pain
i will make the grandmothers laugh
and forget to cringe
they will all think i am going straight
to heaven, no questions asked
i am not even going to die but ascend
you just WATCH me
get your video ready because i will
take an elevator to the top of the eiffel
or something like that
i guess i'll have to wear something cream
colored to symbolize
cream rising to the top
could i still wear thigh high black boots?
oh alright, riding boots.
no, i like the idea of thigh highs in paris
or maybe just stockings which are thigh high?
lets go like michelle pfeiffer as the cat woman
oh, wait, the cream theme.
okay, i'll wear cream and all my maids will
wear black thigh highs.
i am starting a whole new world order
(whiplash sound)
Granny will LOVE it
come on Granny, you can even bring
your pet, Rat Fink, if we ever find him
********************************************

well, i didn't write about dabney again. i wrote poems and images instead.

oh well. more maybe tomorrow. i can't help myself. i like to write too much. i need a fucking laptop. i hate this library thing. i don't like laughing over my own work in public--i feel like the nerd i think i may be.
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aiayaayayayaai. i have 3 minutes left. quick image...

sink full of carrots
peeling and i'm pasting them to a potato head
it's me!
it's mrs. potato head
don't stab me voodoo vipers
i'm just a nice, fun, potato head
like you always wanted me to be

you are my sauce para gratin or whatever that potato dish is with the cream
and cheese. but i'm not going to be cut up. just smother me in the sauce. we will rule the world. saucy you and plain potato jane me. you tarzan man. me jane. we swing. in your dreams. tonight you will dream about potatoes.
*****************
I'm back. waiting for a friend, which is fine, so i'll write more. i really need to just start and finish the whole stupid dab thing, bc i just repeat myself over and over, but if i'm feeling the images, or stressed, I have to go this other direction. it's just a release. if i were still a runner, i probably wouldn't be so much of a writer. love 80s music. love lastfm. mi inspiracion for many of these images, or at least i write to them
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oooh goodie. i see a blank check in my future. whoo hoo.
i don't know who it's from. i don't think it's publisher's clearing house because i think the publishers are going out of business. i read this today. darn. this isn't an image at all. this is turning into prose. hmmmm....claro claro. need to clear my head for a picture...un momento.

blank check and long deck
big shoes big feet?

so bad. okay, think, think...i think i need some more advil because my hands and back are killing me. i am going to die of natural causes, that's why my enemies don't even BOTHER to kill me. they're just like, yeah, i give it a year or two. making bets i bet. lol.

marigolds on a tree? there are marigolds, yellow ones, on a tree.
a pruned tree, the kind where the trunk is gnarled at the bottom and trimmed

marigolds on a tree
yellow light on the freeway
lying across the train tracks
i met a man from translyvania
seriously. the epilepsy assistant
is from translyvania
he didn't want my blood just my history
marigolds on a tree
clusters of crumpled kleenex in the bathroom
clusters of crumpled paper, yellow notes, on the desk
a golden star on a birthday cake
in reality i am just under the sidewalk
awaiting my face lift
my excavation
intaglio or cameo

diving for coins underwater
lining them up along the side
making a list
planting roses
several round tubes for swimming holes
spinning the inflatables around and around
sinking battleship
every child born of a navy background
plays battleship
with the pegs
it's not lightbrites
it's a ship going down
it's the beginning of a game of risk

pirates of the caribbean
collecting a treasury better than pineapples
hiding cocaine in coconut shells
shipping them out west
i don't know who or if someone found out
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inside of the sugarcane
the reeds in your house
in the vase
which one, which vase holds
the secret
the one in the entry or by the dining room?
a glass cupboard of liquors
decanters on the counter
i want a drink
invitame
tell me your secrets
a tall lampstand
books along the wall and on the coffee table
portraits and i can see the bookends
no, i cannot read your mind
god would never allow it...
i don't...well, i don't
THINK
usually, god respects the privacy of our thoughts
unless there is an important message perhaps
in the trappings
video killed the radio star
plays so many times
i wonder about so many things
the jealousies
tell me about the trappings
men cried over me
they knew
they knew more about me than i knew about myself
enough about me
tell me about you
what did they do to you and what have you done?
look at the decanter
look back
behind the door you closed
show me where X marks the spot
invitame
big in japan
the radio star was big in japan?
******************************************

climbing the pole for the flag
i captured the flag
a whole army stood around me and they fell
one by one, some holding hands
some raised their hands
we captured the flag
nothing is broken that can't be fixed
if you throw a grenade
you will illuminate the sky
do not throw it at your worst enemy
throw it into the camp when they have deserted
show the world what is there
show me what you found buried beneath the rock
use it when you need a streetlight, not as a weapon
find your way through the maze
with a candle in your hand
with a grenade in your artillery
as back-up should the candle be taken or blown out by the wind
****************

met a guitarist. yay. blues and funk and jazz. so maybe we'll do a gig or two.