.
the poems on this page:

.

< sylvia plath is my mother >

< these stars treat us too well >

< it seems bees have a notion of honor >

.

< ginger >

< ginger writes me >

< ginger shows up >

.

.

.

        < sylvia plath is my mother
>

.

sylvia plath is my mother

i

practiced cutting my finger like her

a few weeks ago

it was

exactly as she said

she

is perfect

the perfect poet

risking everything

and

losing it

and

gaining it

at the same time

i look

at her picture

posted

just to the right of my computer

just beside gary snyder

and the one

smoothly lives

and the other

roughly dies

but looking at the words

left behind

for all i know

they sit side by side

maybe even kiss me in my love for them

mirror images

reflecting paths

down which

any of us

can go

- -

. . . . .

< these stars treat us too well >

- after a sylvia plath poem

.

the stars drop silently

each message lit

through years and years

of vacuum

evaporated

all the first sweet essence

until us

poor souls of lead once uranium

linger

turn

like jupiter

who thinks he's mercury

like saturn

who wants to be distant pluto

willing to give up her rings

for a far dark silence

- - -

. . . . .

< it seems bees have a notion of honor >

(after reading a poem by sylvia plath)

.

my fantasy

poor fantasy

i am not crazy or genius enough to come to you

but after reading this

i want

to keep you close

to find out more

i know

you were a complete trouble in this life

born

at a wrong angle

born

with the pain to shout this loud

and louder and louder

to greet us

with your puzzle

with your furious capacity

to fill us

til we burst

- - -

. . .

.
.
            < ginger >
        
        ginger
        looks
        at the silhouette of the target
        as she aims her gun
        ginger
        squeezes 
        the trigger of the gun
        her gun lover 
        like a cock in her hand
        she is sucking 
        waiting
        to swallow
          
              - - -
.
.
.

< ginger writes me >

.

the words

fall one after the other

put there by ginger

by you

if you're ginger

one after the other

with the picture you enclosed

of your daughter

and of course

you

would name her ginger too

the ginger that lived with me

from a child of 4 to 6

while you were off

for holding those drugs

a long time ago

but ginger

came through just fine

and at 22

she looks like you

same hair and nose and all the

soft pieces fit together

so i can't help thinking

maybe

it's you again

- - -

. . . . .

< ginger shows up >

.

ginger shows up

on her boyfriend's motorcycle

says her mom

is up to herself again

and i guess i have to help

which will piss off my wife

cause she's guessed

what i never told her

but i hop on

arms

around her waist

trying not to act

like i feel her breasts

with each bump in the road

and thinking of when

i used to bathe her

of those sweet lips

between her legs

- - -

. . .

back to poem page select