Good After Another

Reading other's poems
And wondering
Am I a slacker?
They write poems
Good after another

You Out There?

Each of us

                           An island


Of conciousness.

I don't understand

                               How it's possible
           To                                                        communicate

I See Her

I see her on her first date
And I see her decide that she
Will give it a shot and that
She will not react to me.
Will not react to me.
And I honour her and
Take such joy from the fact
That she had to decide that.
She saw something in me
That made her have to choose.

The Open Mike - Voz Sin Tinta

She stood, impassioned
And, (by memory!) seized
Our imaginations and then
Our very souls.

I had to follow that!

So I said, as we do, that
I had mine not by memory
(Though I did have my smart phone).
It is a tradition you see.

Then she, not even knowing
Of my worship,
Said that it was ok because
I have green in my  hair.

Well! I hadn't even started reading
And already I was a hit.

That Look

There's a kind of look –

    a graceful lank.

Somewhere between

    tomboy lesbian

        and — gymnast.

With smart.

    And smirk.

        And sudden pirouette.

Inhabits her voice.

    Knowing yet joyous smile.

I like that look.

Goddess.

Cigrrettes

Here's the thing.
When I quit long ago,
I swore to be supportive,
But when I hear you wheeze,
When you tell me about the polyps,
I am enraged, and even I,
Calm placid Patrick, I
Want to rage,
And rant.

Obsession

Latina girl
Hispanic beauty
Why can't I stop
Thinking about you?

Hurting us.

He kept abusing her
Demeaning, yelling
I asked him not to yell.
It was hurting us.

Friendly Puppy

When I've been drinking I am like a friendly puppy:

Hey! You want to like me?
Hey! You want to like me?
Hey! You want to like me?
Hey! You want to like me?

At least I don't poke my nose anywhere.

Roxanne

You worked me for six dollars
And then you ran off to deal with those
That you care for.

I am not your chump
Do not think that i will be your bank
You burnt that bridge.

It is the end.
The end.

Bye bye.

Diamonds

What does it mean
When I am too drunk to resolve two into one?
Do I see some gem-like deeper truth?
Am I given over to another reality
Because I am loosed?
Is there something more that in our
Quotidian truth we miss?

Drunk

The gem-like glow of drunk
Unable to see one
Shards of reflection
One? Four? More?
Is this more?
Is this precision?
Is this beauty?
I don't know.
I know who I yearn toward
But I do not dare to say.

Red

I see the light cast on her glint red hair
And I shift. Towards her gleam
Toward her glow.
And it is only exactly her glow
That perfects the light.
That perfects the light.
I lean toward.

Desire

What does it mean
When I look at one woman
When I look at another woman
And one seems more desirous
Than another.

I don't know.
I see it. I react to it.
I do not understand it.

There are slender variants
That loom large.
I suspect that my genetics
Have a voice. Truly
A powerful voice.
I want her more than her.
I don't know why.
I don't know why.
I do.

Sacrament

Here is the truth.
The cutting you fear
Is my sacrament
Designed for power
Bringing my sanity
Your standards not mine
Your power not mine.
Cutting mine.
Mine.