2010
03.09
when I look in the mirror
I see nothing except
the backround reflection
yet they say
they can see me
its as if I was Dracula
but I live in Florida
the sunshine state
I sleep on the floor
not in a coffin
and I wish I could
turn into a bat because
I can’t always
catch the bus
I don’t drink blood
but I like bloody marys
and the only women
I can hypnotize
are the loose kind
it’s not with my eyes either
or by the way I talk
but with the drugs
and alcohol
not only that
but every woman
I’ve ever loved
has driven a stake
through my heart
so I guess it looks like
I’m not a vampire
after all
just an invisible shmuck
2010
03.08
I’d bet she’s the aunt
no one likes, the
one that never sends
birthday checks, christmas
checks, not even a
card, except one of those
dollar store cards that’s
empty, and
no one displays on their
cabinets, but stuffs under
trashcan lids.
no one
sends her letters; she’s
the one they conveniently forget.
there’s just too much to do these days,
they’d say if she asked
why wasn’t I invited to the
barbeque reunion?
well, you live so far away
we wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.
not that she’d ever ask.
I wonder if she’s the woman that
turns the lights off at halloween,
or the one that might hand out
condoms to the older kids,
you never know how
young they do it now; kids
these days.
she never liked kids;
maybe that’s part of it.
she didn’t even like kids when
she was a kid.
she was the one that read
homework, and worked and
hoarded money in a
indestructable piggy.
she didn’t buy
candy.
she eats
energy bars and
mcdonalds french fries, and
when she wants some
zest, she’ll order
chinese carry out.
she
shouts when she can
talk, and whispers
when she can shout;
I really don’t care whose aunt she is,
but somehow I almost
feel sad.
2010
03.07
The money debated and settled,
flipped from his wallet, tossed in her purse,
they prepare to take off.
At first thrust, she reaches up,
throws the scapular
over his shoulder, shouts
“What’s this?” He rolls off,
stares at the ceiling,
says, “Cancel the trip.”
2010
03.05
think big.
think fright.
fear works. fear moves,
fear strangles,
fear rolls the world
around to generate
more fear.
if i want to move the world,
i’ve got to get armies,
i’ve got to get money
and satan on my side.
but satan doesn’t like me much,
he thinks i steal his thunder
with my drunk cavorting.
when i was little,
i wanted to be an emotion
maybe not pure, definitely confused,
but human–i wanted to be part of everyone.
this way i’d need no blood,
no money, no satan,
no god. all i’d need was
the tiny specks
of gold in my soul–
those flickers of afternoon,
the light in which everyone looks young,
which stirs the world to rise,
to run, to breathe.
2010
03.03
Like the honeybee
furious in its task
I would rip the abdomen
devour the essence of life, my own
run through
that which stands in my way
Of timeless flight
and flutterings
mid-air lovemaking
of heartbeats measured in wingspan
and anguished thrustings
I now
the honeycomb
sweetened in your haste
bathe in the efforts of your force
and fall from the sky
Bee again
Yellow then black, yellow then black
as sweet as nectar
as ripe as spring
© Dawn A. Green, 2010