tallulah bankhead

i will go

to the city

to find

tallulah there

holding her

breath

turning blue

in need of

cold water

she was

tattooed on

ada’s grave

pudgy and fair

her sister

eugenia

steel, slim

and  pretty

i pick

tallulah

she’s scandalous

a provocative

enigma

the chastised

epitome

from the

preacher’s

pulpit

engaged

to another

i feel her

in my hands

from mississippi,

from alabama

to tennessee,

she could care

for herself,

through her

spiritualism

an unrepentant

drunk

doing cartwheels

or reciting

a tantrum

at the convent

in manhattanville

entertaining

the wright brothers

as the comedian

give me

tallulah

in a picture play

magazine

unexpecting

budding young

desperate

naked

to prove

she’s ash blond

to ehtel barrymore,

douglas fairbanks

in the algonquin

lobby

tallulah

leaves me

tongue-tied

captivated

to her

martini

drenched smile

mixing with

nice people

a liberated

sought-after

character

following

the taxi

in her bentley

the monkey

giving credence

to the inferior

my hollywood

tallulah

set the dog

on fire

disdained for

scarlett

by moral

turpitude

tullalulah

lay with me

in your

silk robe

with cigarette

burns and all

i will suck

the pneumonia

from you

a bohemian heart sutra

he said he’d do anything,
except for one thing.
so i emptied all of my pockets,
i gave him all my money.
he did everything for me,
except for the one thing.
i gave him a five from my shoe.
he read sermon on the mount,
as a bohemian heart sutra.
i’m satisfied for another day,
it will be a perfect day.
putting on my shoes
i’ll go for a walk.

tied to the toe of buddha

how low

can i go

am i

just a

player?

will the

effort of

the sparrow

find

the deepness

of the sky

or remain

tied

to

the toe

of buddha

never awake

never mobile

i identify

with my

hunger

and it makes

me weep

dependent on

the natural

with names

existing

before sound

and affection

the poet’s

discussion

i revolt

against

though

myself

i am

intrigued

to question,

not knowing

what to do

with the

answer

if it

should ease

the agony

in my

bones

from years

of being

a player

always

liberated

always

chained

 

 

 

the poet

as a poet

i can build

daniel boone

mountains, carve

rawhide valleys.

have my kingdom,

with beautiful

maidens,

in a secluded,

petrified chateau.

be a captain

of solders

with unforgettable

dreams.

i can crucify

words

on lonely days,

or paint

the day

with a silver

sun, and

do it all

on sunday.

fantasy after the fact

on the sands of the oedipal garden

shinned the sun full of laughter,

rose of lime danced with the hellion

the veil lay wasted for it didn’t matter.

iris circled high on the mountain

the janus-faced puppets knew they should leave,

an orthodox hero was caught bleeding

as the deprived rose from their knees.

a puisne screamed celebration

i knew i would join him then,

at the connoisseur garden party

that was soon now to begin.

my pop-eyed lover felt our way

by  babylon queens searching sailors,

through gigolos tasting one another,

by the bridge over dying traitors.

the empyreal pirate met us there

dressed with a star dust smile,

each hand holding sweaty satisfaction

and the guilty never had a trial.

rainbow roses filled out the valley

ecstatic rivers ran  with dandelion wine,

there we lay with our favonian

in rhythm of the friars  rhyme.

momus cried as a baneful filcher

contentment followed our twilight crisis,

the counselor had gotten to us

with the warmth so like isis.