Comments (1)
  • hello my name is clara am a lady i saw your profile today.and became interest in you so i will us to be friend,please send your email address to my box ( that i will send my picture to you and tell you more about me.i waiting your email thanks yoursful miss clara.

    Deeper Wounds

    For Barbara and Susanne


    There was a child…and then a season later…another
    who died at a very early age…victims of child abuse.

    Even my love for you was not enough to save them.
    And because of this…
    the rainbow never again held a promise
    …the sunset lost all it’s beauty
    and the magic of the full moon…was destroyed.

    You must understand for me there is no consolation
    …no penance with enough pain
    …no atheism with enough emptiness
    …no cathedral with a God strong enough
    to burn from my heart the memory of their innocence.


    I confess…I am the son of Joan of Arc

    And for proof…you who have only faith
    are lost
    while I have as a legacy
    the honor to wear her armor
    and to be heir to her courage
    to hear a choir of angels
    singing…the end of hope.

    But because I am her child
    I have seen
    in the maiden’s eyes
    the end of despair
    born by the tears and incense
    …of burning flesh.

    So in the emptiness of this arena we share
    let it now be revealed to you…why
    I have the privilege…to carry
    a shield of voices…sighing in the summer breeze.
    It is because I have for a weapon…a woman’s sacred longing
    to see her tempered sword…sheathed on the field of battle
    in the enemies war…against the olive branch.

    And that is the reason…I can not be bribed
    by the argument of forgiveness
    in the hallucinations of your court
    that strives to inflict upon reality
    a voice in time…for tyranny.

    So do not tell me about the sins of humility
    it is pride that keeps me from being tempted
    …with the politics of salvation
    and the dreams of the heretics Church
    still drunk on sacrificial wine…and blessing the starving child
    with damnation…for the theft of bread
    consecrated to feed the poor.

    For these and all my other crimes
    I have chosen the rainbow…to blame
    …for allowing me to remember
    the deluge and the thunder
    that is only an echo of the screams
    of the excommunicated mother
    who has beckoned me to warn you:

    It is her favorite son who is incurably ill
    with an insatiable desire
    for revenge…for each day
    an army of physicians…deepens the wound
    left by the surgeon’s scalpel.

    This is not an omen…this isn’t even a vow
    it is only a prayer that was answered…in the beginning
    when I was embraced…by a woman clothed in flames.
    And she knows the truth of this punishment.
    There is nothing wrong with her children.
    They are alive and well
    in a world

    …that is raving mad!


    Lake Shore Drive

    This suicide note began before…or was it after
    I remember playing there
    beneath your neck
    above your navel
    underneath your leaves
    amidst the sound of the bay.

    Where we lived…in a bed…of paranoia
    and poverty
    and money…from stolen music
    and enjoying sacraments…from any priest…who happened along the way.
    The nights lasted forever then…and sometimes the work in the fields
    and the factories lasted…even longer.

    This suicide note began after…or was it before
    I remember playing there
    beneath your navel
    above your thighs
    underneath your leaves
    only to raise my head from the scent of your sea
    to answer the request from the next room
    for sugar…for coffee…for tea
    or another stolen bottle…of expensive wine.

    It was easy pretending then…until our final words
    as long as we forgot every morning
    we had stopped talking…the night before.
    After all…perhaps it does not matter…whether we lied to one another
    because I know…even the courageous…have their moment of terror
    …in the face of truth.
    For even I found phone calls are sharper than the voices
    leading to razor blades
    which is the only proof…I need to know…the scars of your absence
    still haunts me.

    That is the reason I lied
    so you would believe…this obscene truth:
    the surest way…to the only heaven with you I knew
    was through the pavement of hell
    fashioned by the hate of the prisons I came from.
    But by now…my softness would love companionship
    even in the arms of a lessor woman
    who does not care…about such profanities.

    Perhaps I am only clinging…to not having enough cruelty left
    to buy more innocence…with the bones…of more children
    …who would be buried here.
    Because now it is already time for the vigil to the end of our story together.
    I was there one night…agony and passion came…and died in your arms.
    So forgive me…this is the only wedding gift and blessing
    I have left for you both:

    Of all the beautiful and ugly angels
    I have known and loved and hated
    you were every God I ever dreamed of…and more.


    is this punk.

    if you have no scars, no perforated cheeks,
    if you are not broken
    you are [part of] the problem.
    it’s true.
    anyone who sees the world
    as it is
    cannot be asked to be an optimist
    this is not a contest among voyeurs.
    no…this is frightening.


    The Dirty Book Store’s Place In Eden’s Revenge

    I confess to you…and to setting lust free
    …and to standing
    as I did at Mid-Night Mass
    …half lost
    …half there
    …and all alone
    in the darkness of this confessional.

    It is obvious I am cumming
    …to witness the holy Acts
    …transform the human bodies
    …involved in…the passion play.
    Therefore trust me when I tell you
    during the sacrifice
    …their positions
    …have changed.

    I am not lying.
    I have stopped
    kneeling…as a child
    because I took my time
    standing…as a man
    who stumbled and fell.

    it is comforting
    to know:
    I am not among the holy
    host of spectators
    a priest’s absolution
    could save…from understanding…this mystery.

    So let’s not pretend…the agony of lost innocence.
    I am not looking for fig leaves…not here.
    I am looking for childhood’s place…in the agony of guilt.
    And what the shepherd girl has to do with the animals
    …and the Lamb
    …and the others…in the manger…which maybe why
    I have no secrets to keep from the world…nor any that are kept from me.

    And that is why…after all this time…the scar of vengeance…may still be mine.
    Because I have come that far
    to know
    that look
    the flesh
    of your faithful wife.

    Only you will understand
    I will never tell
    you will never know…the Fires of Eden
    I found
    beneath her leaves.


    For Karen

    Even as Amy Mann and Radio Head battle to be plagiarized
    in the warmth of the cold garage
    a war rages on…somewhere…in my manic schemes…and dreams
    of the heat of your distant arms…still falling…victim
    to my admittedly dieing ego’s…charms.

    Desperately! Desperately! Desperately!
    You are almost all I think of…saving…if that is what you want
    from being among the ranks of the freaks
    who were ever embraced…by him.

    Because…once upon a time…a long long time ago
    I told you a story to who ever you were then on another forgotten…drunken nite
    my greatest crime…is knowing
    like Samson knew…when his G-d led him
    by means of the sewers of blindness…to bring down the Temple walls
    my greatest sin…is not hating…enough
    to trust anyone…with my darkest and most unimportant secret.
    So…sew…sew…sew away…back on the farm, lover?

    Desperately! Desperately! Desperately!
    It is almost all I could think of…loosing…my heart if that is what you never wanted
    as long as it will keep you forever…from being among the ranks…of the freaks
    who suspected they could ever fall in love…with a leper.

    Come on and let me save you…if that is all you want
    and as long as it will help keep my spells…forever…from parting your thighs
    like Moses once did with his magic…to the Sea.
    Because you are all I think of…saving
    if it will…keep you forever in my heart…and me from touching again
    just another professional…in the business relationship of being
    for me alone…just another woman…who is… an untouchable,

    After all it is a cheaper and crueler and lonelier payback of revenge
    than letting a man you will never know…wound you with tears
    for all that he owes thee…for what my durty diseased mind

    Desperately! Desperately! Desperately!
    wanted to do to your perfect body for nothing…but thanks…for cigarettes…and the beers.

    Now it’s your turn to save my soul…from you
    Desperately! Desperately! Desperately!
    wanting to do anything as payment…to learn…how to fall in love…with me.

    , ,

    • 664