I toldja I was trouble. 9am
Keeps sliding by the wayside. Keep your job,
We'll need it for the cover charges. When
And what and where... consume it to the cob

And let the others snuffle after that.
They get the fallen tassels. You get this.
You take el luchador down to the mat.
There's photographic evidence. You sit

Where no one else can ride. Do not disturb
Until the second workshop. Keep their hands
Where you can see them. Out here in the burbs
We don't leave the hotel. I give commands

And, answering, you chuckle to yourself.
You share the interest. But you keep the wealth.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets

Black bottom cupcakes. Danish. Gluten free
Banana muffins. Chocolate chip pecan
Banana muffins full of energy
And antioxidants. Coffee? C'est bon.

Big tipper, don't go easy on the pear
Banana muffins. Have yourself a stack.
Banana muffins bring it on. Compare
The coffee anywhere, then come on back

To papa, shaking imperceptibly.
Banana muffins are your bicycle.
Banana muffins launched successfully
In seven major markets. Feel the pull,

Do not deny yourself. Muffins unbound!
A sea of cinnamon! The world is round!

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets

Don't eat that shit, it's full of hydrogen
In really nasty forms you can't pronounce.
Just step back from the counter. Count to ten
And just stay hungry. Every muscled ounce

Is locked and loaded, ready to deploy.
Don't look at me. That's how it has to be.
There is no calm delight, no easy joy.
You have to prep for every ecstasy,

Rehearse for every pleasure. Train yourself
Until you wink without a hint of strain.
It's not as if we do this for our health.
No sacrifice, no life. No pain, no gain.

Don't eat that. That's not good for you at all.
Don't look at me. I haven't got the balls.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets

Our man-Jack works just one week in a year
And socks don't buy themselves. The sort with toes
And braille barber stripes. We're full of beer
And firm intentions. When a goddess goes

I do admit to watching her, of course.
I grant I have no scruples in the dark.
We never spoke of vows. The realm of tort
Is where we lie, and where we make our mark.

You have the carriage, and the skill to drive,
And every other pagan quality.
So drive on, driver. Keep this thing alive.
There's more to love than tame morality.

The other ninety-nine were child's play.
But this is mine. So give me cause to stay.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets

The people of the island greeted them
With open arms and kept an eyeball cocked
For trouble. Pour the beer and mend the hem,
But keep the basement storerooms tightly locked.

The captain's here, the frigging captain's here
With some attractive nuisance by her side
Inspiring worship, ecstasy and fear.
Keep tankards coming. Keep her well supplied

And maybe she'll go hunting somewhere else.
The bride and groom are terrors of the sea.
It's best we do the pillaging ourselves.
Yo ho and matzeltov! From dusk till three

The islanders will celebrate and shout.
But no one breathes until they sail out.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets

It's not the wings that scare me. It's the air.
The elements don't love me anymore.
The atoms raise their eyebrows and they stare.
It's technically permissible, but poor

In social graces. Protons must be asked,
And neutrons should be courted patiently.
Electrons might come first, or both, or last
But you should see them as they wish to be,

As individuals. It's not a shock
That they don't cotton kindly to abuse.
The carpet wicks them slowly to the sock,
The naked doorknob sets the buggers loose

In one bright flash and puts you in your place.
There's magic here. Respect it. Touch the face.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets

I hold out both hands. See? No mystery.
So push the question down into collapse.
I don't have any secret history.
There is no catch. There was no private lapse,

No world underground that came before.
I was not lost at sea for forty days
And rebuilt out of tinkertoys. Ignore
The backstage antics, child. Watch the play

That I have thoughtfully prepared for you.
There's room for you. There's room for your distress.
Your siblings simply love to share the shoe.
And only one looks silly in a dress.

I've got a muse. A steady stream of words.
I've got a muse. I need a dramaturg.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets

Another day, another hand grenade.
Another drop of sewage in the wine.
Another washed up star in the parade.
I don't know how we do this all the time.

Another interruption in the speech,
Another stalling tactic. You could cry.
I hear the assholes calling, each to each.
They're loud enough. I have no wish to pry,

But they will share their contents nonetheless.
I'm positive that they will sing to me.
Sometimes I think this cup is bottomless.
The medicine won't go down easily,

But down it goes. Hey, I signed up for this.
Corralling toddlers is just politics.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets

An ice cream cone, six dollars' worth of nuts,
A handspring visor on a tile floor,
A thunderstorm (the window wasn't shut),
A lot of things that aren't there anymore.

I should have told you. It's my Midas touch,
Steve Martin's drinking problem. Waterloo
For grandpa's furniture. I jammed the hutch,
I broke the sink. I broke the fixtures too.

I'm just a klutz. I don't mean to be cruel.
I'm sorry. Jesus. Here's a frozen steak.
Autonomous reflexes fight a duel
That keepsakes lose. I never meant to break

A promise, or discard a diamond ring.
But I'm the reason we can't have nice things.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets

Too many ruddy orange glowing girls
For one collection. That's hard to admit.
I'm oversaturated. Ceaseless curves
And never faces. Patiently they sit

For days on daybeds, bathe all day in pools
To catch a random moment's magic time,
Awash in evening light. These are the rules:
A casual splendor, and no broken lines.

Renoir, I'm through with you. Stop tracing space
And give me something I can't get at home.
I want a challenge, please. I want a face.
When Aphrodite rises from the foam,

Lend her a haughty smile and a gun.
I know this much: the rebels are more fun.

Tags: monday fourteen, poetry, sonnets