9.3.14



Faulkner
always faulknering it up!

but to confess he loved his quote: “Between grief and nothing, I will take grief.”
                                           because the sterile voice inside his head too  -  refused grief

he would take nothing       breathlessly

grief is a compromise  an anguish which ofttimes we cannot change
                                                                                         and if it cannot be changed    
                                                                                              
                                                                                             it is utterly beyond us
it is no thing    anguish is a waste of time
time lost that might otherwise be fruitful  or seeded

not ceded
            
             or sterile
                       
                       vaporous   moving among and around ones spastic numb lost fingers 
which is ugly to witness 
                                         to be helpless to help  

time  is a tourniquet
a compress  a poultice hoping to prevail 
                                                                     prevail  that the infection is staunched       
and wont spread black lines firing up veins like smouldering contrails of deadly missiles





1233,  Monday,  29  7. 13

8.3.14

Is your bed made?



--  Is your bed made?

I am quite certain I am not the only child who has ever cringed                                   
hearing those words


realizing that a lousy bed stood between them  and the great outdoors  and playmates


for it my bed is made every fucking morning

diligently

sharply

when the sunlight comes through my bedroom window and strikes it it looks like a fresh cut 
piece of immaculate cake

that may not sound like much

or something to brag about

dull and unimpressive

but


returning home for a nightcap at the end of a date

the bathroom is through the bedroom

my dates have never failed to remark how beautiful the bed ah er   bedroom is

how crisp and clean looking

how inviting

its attractive scent


that made bed

has made more women than you can shake a . . . oh hell lets be honest . . . than you 
can shake a dick at


I am thoroughly confident

when I was a boy and my mother chided me

--  Is your bed made?

she never had a clue to its long term benefits

she never meant it

or imagined making my bed carnally



nope  old eyesinthebackofherhead

never saw that coming


1604,  Thursday,  27  2. 14

7.3.14

Opaqueaninnies



they jumped the showerhead 
and twisted its flimsy little neck  -  as it cried  -  to the wall so when the water surged         
itd surge at the back wall and save their bawdy entrance without splashing the square tiled bathroom floor or their foottwisted oriental bathmat
the shower was a beast at this hour                                                                  
trying to dictate that the hour  the early morning two a.m. hour
                                                                                                    wasnt an appropriate 
time to be showering playing and fondling under its heated silver threads                    
the butteryellow aura of candlelight  and strains of  
                                                                                    Traffics John Barleycorn Must Die

they were fast in their disagreement                                                                   
appropriate  had rare few places in their repertoire                                                         
and animate or inanimate dictates fell hard on their sternlined faces at their feet

the warm water bound and bind them as it ran through their hair as they kissed and 
groped each other
                               it twined down their spines and lapped at the cup of their buttocks 
between their agile fingers that ran like mad rakes on their slick flesh
                                                                                                                       gasps 
were gagged under its whisper
                                                     their bodies turned and bent and twisted           

mouths feast                                                                                                                
tongues lapped and curled
                                                                                                                      quivers 
were tied off  knotted
                                       pulsated and throbbed
                                                                                    maddening
but their attentions were off  exploring elsewhere 
                                                       delicately    and at turns rough



at a sudden  clasped facetoface again

she slipped in his arms

slipped against his erection

faced the sober showerhead as he

clutched her thigh as he

clutched her breast

as she went underwater  ribbons of water winding with the ribbons and plaits of her 
hair as he                                                                                                              
muzzled under their serpentine life kissing the nape of her neck the crest of her begging 
shoulders holding her dearly  jealously  as if life itself

she emerged gasping  sucking the humid air

filling her lungs and pushing firmly back against him as he

took her breasts  feeling her aeration  swelling    and tautness
                                                                                                                
                                                                                                           
                                                                                                        Rainmaker played


their sighs and laughter


then randomly she asked                                                                                       
if the shampoo bottles of the two pairs sitting in the shower caddy were smaller than their conditioner counterparts

scrutinizing their stature
                                                 he muttered absently          nearly incoherently              
--   Clear versus colored

--   Not colored  Opaque

--   Colored baby  Ones colored a pale limegreen  the others pale plum

--   Opaque

--   Opaque  Listen  If we agree opaque  I suppose I would call a colored person opaque 
too    an den   intoning a black voice   excuse me alta hell  ma racist folk art               
Opaqueaninnies                                                                                                                
by golly I got me Opaqueaninny salt and pepper shakers                                              
I got me Opaqueaninny ceramic creamer and sugar service                                           
I ulsa got me my Opaqueaninny capped and shiny red vested lawn jockey   Jocko!

--   Stop  Youre going to offend somebody

--   Nahinheer  Ays a Huckaberry sportin wid Jim on da thick jugular flow uda Mississippi   
dats wa ays                                                                                                 
But not in dis shower is ay                                                                                               
Ays just playin widja 

As you know  As you know best

Helps me  to play off the racism in the family 

--   Okay  okay then  Colored  Not opaque  You satisfied

he smiled  --   Baby  Trust me when I say youll never satisfy me  Never ever



1616,  Day-between-two-Ts,  17  7. 13