Wonder Bar

 
Duck into the secular church
of imminent oblivion;
drink deep, 
drown the Blue Devil,
play the pleasure trick,
and watch your ingenuity blur.

If you can.

Cash in,
bleed out,
retreat into the
grandiose unclarity of your
uniqueness,

while you chase the love
unconditional
that you’ll never know.

Stools

  Closed:
quiet respite
without demands,
propped seatside down 
on a marble floor,
the night’s memory mopped clean,
and free from the weight
of butted burdens;

resting
with the good intentions
of another day. 

Silent Narrative


A silent narrative
underlies her humanness;
her every action 
an overflow of flimsy meaning,
every response 
choked with blather and woes.

No escape of disenchantment
from the vaporous mist 
of her consumption.

Lacking spirit
and amazement,
she closes her eyes
and shaves her head
to ward of perplexity.

With weary eyebrows
and caterpillar lashes
she paints herself
for war against
not enough; 
to feel alive,
to truly matter,
yet is cumbered
in the cheerless gravity
of discontent
that never fades away.

Porcelain Dolls


Bear leans over 
and tells the porcelain dolls
a dirty joke.

Mythic perfection of
their rigid cheeks,
painted blush, 
radiates the fragile aura of love;
their giggles disguise 
their ruffled discomfort.

Self-possessed, Baldy sez:
"put a lid on it Teddy,
we are to be cherished
and require protection,
not titillation."