18 June 2008

Thamyris Jones


She’s seventeen
pink hair & all punk
but she listens
to Iron Maiden

Iron Maiden?
I would have figured you
for a punk

Oh I used to be punk
she says
before punk sold out
went all commercial

But The Sex Pistols
The Clash,
The Dead Kennedys
Didn’t they have something to say?
What’s metal got to say?

Plenty, she says
Satanism, rape &
murder. Serious stuff.

One day she’s going to move
to Norway, start a band.

Part of me wants to
fuck her in the ass
part of me wants to
put my arm around her
kiss her forehead
father to daughter

I just smile

Sitting down after dinner
I pick up Crime and Punishment
again, think about a certain poet
with wine bottles & ashtrays
piling up like purgatory
Tchaikovsky blaring
on a cheap-ass radio by the window
and I find myself
softly singing 'Cause I wanna be
Dostoevksy' to the tune of
Anarchy in the UK, alarmed
at the age of my voice

The Garden of Love

passing by the pub
i feel the need to
piss mixed with
a perfect loathing
for the all night hair
and secret underarms
on the other side
of the pane

the fuck me fuck me not
game comes on like
new shoes in an
old dance
absurd as longnecked birds
twisting themselves
into balloon animal

it’s taken me years
to grow this ugly
like a bleeding cancer
on your dream of perfect
i pull out my diseased dick
piss all over your perfectly
manicured bush

The Unseen Flares of a Polar Expedition

Jackson's cranking crystal meth
hasn't slept or eaten in a week
rock candy snowflakes rocketing
past an elbow
the synaptic arc
dripping solder
down the spine

in Japan
is fire plus flower
the math is

you can count the needles
on the bed
in the bathroom
under the skin
half filled with blood
half filled with arctic
rhododendrons -- their fuses
alight with shame

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