Tag: 12-74

 And through golden eyes purchased
             we watched children rise,
                      running popcorn down movie aisles.
 French lovers balleted the kiss
              and Degas dancers pirouetted patterns
                           on the walls of my house
                                         where all things are possible!
 Ah those muscular connections
              to the god of stars;
                            freed from the belly's grim countenance
                                          to fire the eyes and blow
                                                        the bolted doors off
                                                                      and forever their creaking hinges!
 Toasting to wild Arabian Nights
              and to Dodge City bar fights,
                           licking the Moon's marbled streaks
                                        like fudge from the Sundae.
   

 There's more to being tough
 then some folks suppose;
 more than say,
             toothpicks and Camels.           
  
 Brando plays in his pockets,
 chews on a grin, dreams
 of a plastic nipple flashing
 in neon sincerity,
 scoring wet in the pinball night.
  
 He curses his Eva Marie
 and her movie fascinations.
 He pumps his 44 fists
 into the Gable of her dreams.
  
 A Camelot shattered,
 and what can you say?
  
 There is something
 essential
 in the man.
 A voice unspoken for
 cramming every word.
  
 Within his chest
 pinballs rattle down empty pews.
 Within his chest
 a penis vomits blood in porcelain bathrooms.
 Within his chest
 the old woman asleep
 in the subway
 condemns Heaven
 with each twitch
 of her knotty brow.
  
 Gone beyond words,
 he settles for an honesty,
 a shrug or a grunt.