The curves of Spanish get me every time

like white chiffon lured off of a woman’s body by the wind

eloping, making cartweels in the air leaving blue

and orange chemtrails in its wake.

The edges of German do it to me too.

Its sheer history sits in my esophagus

asking me to remember. Stifled patriotism

is the flavor of the millenium.

Urdu lounges quietly sipping sherbet

reciting the poetry of the ancestors

wondering about the downfall

of the Mughal empire.


The Waltzing Dead

Boxed into three brick walls of dead end, I come to terms with impending death.
How did this happen?
Yesterday, I was a weatherman. Today, a chef
who prepared a zombie putanesca using only a hand grenade,
a stretch of atlanta highway and a squeeze of lemon.
Maybe Bobby Flay would have been proud.

Yesterday I might have said
“It’s a high of 27 and a meaty red blizzard headed to the northeast, folks”
a nervous chuckle escapes.
I clap a hand on my mouth. Stupid! I could be discovered. In response:
a group of drunkards dancing an out-of-tempo waltz approaches

Their tattered clothing rustles crusted with the blood
of the townspeople and with wedding rings, with intestines and lace
They shuffle and teeter and totter like babies walking to mama.
monstrous groaning babies crowding my one way out!
angrily I fire the rifle
but the clamour of the shots draws more of them near.
A Hundred drunken hungry babies waltzing towards me
Soon they will teach me to waltz too.

Physician Notes

10:01 am: 67 y/o white male, unreasonably ugly, presents to the ED via EMS found       unresponsive following Multiple Vehicle Accident reportedly trying to
“see if he could start a dominoes kind of thing but with cars”
Pt is an organ donor.
Pt has a unicorn bracelet. Nurse cannot stop laughing; security has been called.

10 :47 am: The attending physician strolls in eating a hamburger.
“He’s practically a DOA. Prep for organ removal”
Pt is given 3 of epi and is thrashing melodramatically.
“How about that game last night?”
Shocked to 150.
“Pretty crazy”
Continuing CPR.
The neuro consult is running late. Her Temple Run score remains undefeated.
Shocked again to 200. Intubate.
“Hang up an O Negative, nurse”

10:49am: Hysterical nurse is dragged out of ER kicking and still laughing.
Shocked to 300.
“We only have B positive and yoo-hoo”
“Save the yoo-hoo for me, hang up a bag of Sunny D”
Flatline pierces through the Emergency Department
“Patient’s been down 20 minutes, Doc” Nurse chirps through smacks of gum.

10:53 am: Pt pronounced dead.
“Call me when the family’s here. Who’s up for sushi?”’


Last night I dreamt you were an ant.

I always liked the idea of a magnifying glass

over an ant in August.

I was reading the scientific american

-Of which I am neither-

of how Broca’s Area lets you talk

and Wernicke’s lets you comprehend.

So I was swirling my finger in my coffee

(I know how you hate that)

And I was thinking

Its a funny thing how without Broca’s Area

I would never have to say I love you too.

I always say it like an actress on the sixteenth

take cuz the kid won’t cry on cue

and I would never have to again.

For God’s sake I dont always need the last word!

I love you- I love you too! Ha! Gotcha.

Somethin to prove.

Love you too! Checkmate.

Why can’t we let the chicken marinate?

Its shake and bake every other time

Just once I want to see your words become smoke

suspended in fog


And since I’m choosing

losing my wernicke’s area isnt a bad deal.

I would never even know you loved me

You could say it again and again like the car ride back

from the picture show in the rain when I found out

you could say it and I wouldn’t understand.


You could say it and I wouldn’t understand.




flimsy skirts in the fall for gooseflesh thighs

for the boy on the bus gall of

the hens next door to gawk at

our quick gasps in the elevator hot




a steamy mirror.








The Radiator hums a lullaby

and spins a spoonful of lies

I surmise.

The deadly gods of fashion want

their  plush fabric back

they have a gala in Hell

to attend.

Difficult diamonds spill from

every river into my mouth

waiting for the dream man

to claim them

and me

Red Wine Sings to Me

Red wine sings to me

like my mother never did

velvet whitenoise

like my heater in August


I open my mouth but only moonlight

stumbles out

dissolving into shadows

then tall savanna grass

and then a lion.


I dont remember when I died

But the sun was warm and bright.