Imaginary boyfriend from high school...

With his light hair
And darker roots
Hazel eyes
And junkyard boots
Cool-cut clothes
Long heavy chains
My imaginary boyfriend
Plays with me games.

Magick We Yearn: Revisited

His warm, light basement is home to energy;
a place for all kinds of magick.
Magick for love and lust,
of sensitivity and pain to take place.
With cords, rope, and the perspiring nakedness
of our flesh, together we make magick.
We tie knots, weave gentle sigils on bellies and goosebumped
chests; we heave love
like boxes and like delicate vases;
together we burrow: digging into holes with sharp,
solid shovels, and at other times with caressing fingertips,
flicking tongues, and soft
thrusts with the spade.
Always, cool lips meet and we suffocate
from bruising pressure.
We chant spells with our sighs and moans of
numbing pleasure–but our spells are never old.
Together we dance and perform ritual–for magick we yearn.

A B C . . .

A B C . . .

A beautiful catastrophic
delirious escape
from gorgeous hills
into jinxed kindness
love me never
or poison quarantine
risks stiff, taut,
universal vibrations
winged xanthic yeast
zealously.

Makeout Session (Also old)

Make-out session Tuesday January 2, 2007

Distrust
Inching away
foot by foot
Nearing and nearing
until twitching spasms
occur and do
not cease to
tremble the hands
she hides and digs
into soft flesh
teeth into neck
and weakened knees
bodies embraced and mouths
together
soft lips touching
lightly
more like chapstick than
peach–
No invading worm
No searching fingers
Pure outward
Teeth again
Ears, knees, mouths . . .
Until time ends
as does this sensual make-out
session.

Dig Into Love (an old poem)

Dig Into Love

I want to dig into my love for him,
the way I dig my pen into paper--
without tearing it, but leaving
my mark.
All I do is find the music,
uncover the things he likes,
and retain them in the jumbled box I call
my mind:
dusting through his words
I cling to his touch,
all the while I need to
scrape the surface--
and find room for him.

Love: Brief description

l
l
l
The stillness outside is dark
You invade my thoughtlessness.

------------------------------------------------------
Fear is a broken
waterfall crashing on stones that jut
Shattering louder with every fall.

First Bar

My first night out at bars and drinking, and the one thing no one ever told me and I never really thought of was my problem. I had to pee. I had to pee like crazy! Hawaiian punch, pee. Water, pee. Tea, pee. Walking from Chinatown to Faneuil Hall, pee pee pee! I was going crazy with all these drinks and all that peeing!
I wore my favorite girl jeans with the purple Indian tank-top with the ripply design in front, and the straps that rounded in a quarter moon rather than a half, showing my bra straps off to the world in back. Wore sneakers, and glad for it. We had so much fun! Becca didn't dress up too much, but the boys were her friends--Dario, her best friend, then Corey, Tom and Bobby, lesser known friends. At first meet Dario struck me as quiet and made me slightly timid. Later I decided he was the most down-to-earth of the bunch, and likely the most intelligent.
Bobby Row drew my attention like a flea, hopping this way and that, drawing me to follow and watch, wanting to join in his jumpy antics, but not wanting to put myself--or anyone else--in danger the way he did. Hyper and talkative, but not very funny at first, simply because he found himself TOO funny. Short red hair, a matted red bear and mustache(?) Medium build. Drunk-walk. As the night wore on he drank more and more and more...more than I've ever seen ANYBODY drink...and he was so out of it. He talked to me very seriously, kept taking my hand and stroking it, and I looked in his eyes sadly, with a slight smile, a sad-for-him smile. He talked to me like Nick did...in that half-slurred redneck-way they have, and I felt like he was lying to me. I don't think he was...but definitely sweet-talkin' me in his drunken stupor.
Tom was cool. He looked very normal, not an easy face to pick from the crowd, but pretty cute, with shortish hair and a lot of freckles and/or pimples. He seemed to read my mind. When he said the word "chick" he said excuse me, looked directly at me, and corrected himself. Later, he tried making me feel paranoid...and somehow he knew I was. How irritating to be so translucent! How naiive I am. At the car (Becca drove me to Rowley) he offered me the front seat, when only moments before, I had told her I'd be shocked if he didn't. He's one of the only guys I have EVER met with manners. They are few.
Corey seemed willing to dance at the bar, but I thought he was kidding when he asked me. Thin and tall, he reminded me of Eddy, that Jewish boy from my Dean's Book class. Apparently he's a sex fiend. Okay then...
Becca is usually very quiet. She seems to sit back and watch the others interact.
It was a good first-bar experience. I finished an entire glass of mudslide, and a third of a glass of Hawaiian punch. After the mudslide I was a little dizzy. But I balanced out and found my way home.