a spell

you showed up
i had the flu

ginger ale
chicken noodle

you went to work
unloading freight
later that day

i hoped
you will
be okay

this is how
we start
to care

like braids
in hair


casting spells
with focused

care for me i
care for

Pop Girl Sap Song

His hands in his hair, he wished he could call her, she who fucked around behind his back, betrayed him with her bullshit hypocrisy, who he feared would plunge the needle to the vinyl vein,  to drown out her pain with some Pop Girl Sap Song. Very plastic of her. She listened to Courtney Love and Hole, and became a better victim. She smeared candy-colored lipstick on her face and tore her clothes in the right places. She thought she was tough. She drew candy-colored hearts by Maybelline all over the mirrors in her apartment, and dropped her knee and hip and lay her elbow down and blew kisses to herself all day long to a waterfall of sound. She did not have any trouble enjoying silence. She never gave herself the opportunity. She had him break the seal on the painted over window in her bathroom so she could hang her head out and scream for everyone to hear her. She was a scratch lottery winner and loser all in the same day. She was a brilliant mess. An idiot savant. A fool to cry. And no one cared to know why. She was the inspiration for many a vexation. The muse of the frustrated sigh.

Q and A with K

What makes you tick?
I don’t tick. I’m not a clock. If you take me apart, you won’t be able to put me back together and have me working again.

Can you expand upon that, K?
All I’m gonna say is Descartes was right about spirit. It’s non-mechanical and immaterial.

Are you spiritual?
We all are. So are cats. Spirit is that which is lacking when a life form is de/re constructed . That’s why Dr. Frankenstein needed electricity…cause without it he had only a lifeless blob, devoid of spirit.

Or a clock?
Or a clock. Yes.

So Frankenstein’s monster was a clock is what you are saying?
No, you said it. Why are you asking me questions only Mary Shelley can answer?

So sorry, Madame K.
This interview is over!
Yes, ma’am. Can we talk again, after you’ve cooled those jets?
Talk to the hand!

the bees knees

you color my black
i know your combination
by heart
     and you

i forget myself around you
you suddenly
and tell me who i am?

i become