I Surrender

your music is fingertips
tracing my shoulder, my spine, my hips

so softly, so politely
raking nails digging in
combing out my knotted skin

here comes the noise
the rush of blood
the throb of your heart
the push and the pull

Necessary Cruelty

I’m sorry we were mean.
We had to drop everything.
Arrested by discovery.

Ghost Story

I always hear the same song now,
No matter what is playing,
Because a ghost I met one time
Kept praying, praying, praying.

She sent me an enchanting word
That set my soul in motion.
I returned, all folded up,
Across a midnight ocean.

Dark colossi, frigid winds,
Trees trussed up with lights.
That ghost I met, I met again
Where impossible just might.

I looked in her impossible eyes,
Steeled and amber flecked.
Not all the strength God grants you, ghost,
Arrives as you expect.

Then Let Them Stare

With their curious vacant eyes,
With their stifled, sometimes-minds,
With their jealous furrowed brows,
They are no concern of ours.

They chose to walk,
We chose to dance.

Why is the Universe So Full of Empty Space?

Question: Why is the universe so full of empty space?

Word: Audacious

The universe is full of empty space
Yet you’d prefer, to keep apace
With the Jones’ universe, next door,
A universe with something more?

I implore you to consider
The audacious questions you deliver.
Your backyard full of junk?
Keep it to yourself, you punk.

Words… With Friends Skills

She folds her warmth over mine.
Brush of hair, her neck inclines.
Ankles cross-uncross once more.
Tapered wrists twist to the floor.
A cold white glow winks in her hands.
Elbows flex and fingers dance.

“Yesss,” she says, “Another S!”
She’s playing Words With Friends, I guess.
Oh, my sense of dignity!
I really wish she’d get off me.

“Babe” she says, “What ends with X—”
I vaguely hear, “What ends with sex?”
Her voice continues distantly,
“—and has three letters and an E?”
“I don’t know.” Tex-Mex T-rex
Flecks specks pecks checks.
“How about vex?”
She tenses for an second now,
Intense activity, head bowed.
A brighter shade of night, a sound.
She slips and slithers, turns around,
Her hips and knees lock down my chest.
“Babe?” she says, “You are the best!”
She starts to move. “Now your reward
“For the fifty points that I just scored.”

Robot Dance Off

Samakaza’s question: How do you navigate the waters?

Foxie’s word: Robot dance off.

We’re nearing the reef. Good grief!
We really need a side to pick.
Quick. You round up all the girl bots.
I have an idea. Let’s give it a whirl.
Boys and girls will have a dance off!
Then the chance of the boy bots winning
Will be the same as the wheel left-spinning.
But if the girl bots win the fight
We’ll steer this old girl right.

Such a plan was very bold
But, all told, the lonely bots upon the shore,
Blowing their ducts with actuators,
Would have to wait
And wait some more.


vainglorious parthenogenesis serendipity autoeroticism phlegmatic

Dad, do trees have babies?
Oh baby I will tell you how! Right now!
With seeds and bees and breezes and lube
I think. I’ll check it later on YouTube.

Do they have a wedding ring?
They’ve got more rings than you’ve got things.

Do they read their children bedtime stories?
Only one and very boring.

What is it about?
About as boring as a Vikram Seth.
About as long as a director’s cut.

A Vick Ram Seat? An ector-cut?
Oh never mind. You know, I find,
More and more, when children are
A part of yours, you just decide
You become the phlegmatic vainglorious centre of the world and it still doesn’t help you use the word serendipity.