Two Poems (April 9, 2009. New Pink Moon. Issue 3)

Emotional Eater

extra chunky peanut butter cock
rocky road sundae validation
a whole bag of cheesy poofy love
a big ass box of chocolate covered lust 
set me loose
in a fuck your brains out banquet
I’ll be all over the roast beef
and garlic mashed potatoes
hump hump hump
stuff stuff stuff
gravy will drip
from my chin
I’ll wear chunks of meat
like roses
in my hair 
stuff a sausage in my mouth
prove your devotion
by spanking my ass
with a licorice whip
show me who’s boss
fire me for masturbating
with a king size butterfinger
during the meeting

My Dreams Are Bloated With Romance

In my dreams it’s the apocalypse. Horses are dead.
The blood decorates the earth and the asphalt.
The blood doesn’t play favorites.
I’m eating ice cream with my favorite writer.
He’s white. His dying grandmother is black.
I tell her that her grandson is the surprise in my cereal box.
He’s the gaudy cherry banana grape sunrise God designed solely for me.
He’s the tricycle I rode all over town when I was three then four then five.
I love him deep and wide, to infinity and beyond,
but I’m married and not to him and yes, that is inconvenient.

My days are anemic.
My hours are microwave popcorn.
Kernels stick in my gums and my tongue
is coated with artificial butter.
I want to demand a refund but that would be fruitless
and I would be sorry.
My truth is a sugar free treat and I’m only allowed
a nibble when Mars aligns with Jupiter.
There isn’t anything spectacular about it, regardless.
My truth involves me circa 1999 and Robert Plant circa 1973.
We meet in an opium den and somehow…
it works.