Ludwig

You can expect trills and riffs
of thrilling turns and swerves,
designed to defy expectation.
My melodyelectricity glorifies you.

You can expect staccato thrusts
and pizzicato pulls and pushes.
Everything and anything to keep
you toesy, lipsy, and coyly kissing.

You can expect the gentle swallows
of coos and hand, caresses stressed
by fists gripped in layered embraces.
And you can bite that trumpet finger.

You can expect a multitude of movements,
distinguished by their tactile timbre:
The drones of a cello massage starkly juxtaposed
with the clave clickclack of ass-slaps.

The baritone grunt of an asserted dominance
harmonized with the soprano yelps and oohs
of willful helplessness. And the timpani beats
to the curves of a skin spread open,

while horns are tickled to cries of yes triumphant,
voices blown piquant through brass to crescendo
crescendocrescendoyeswavethosehandsandclosethoseeyes
Crescendo!

Ay, there's the rub. And the piano strokes
to follow for a pianissimo pillow impenetrable
by sadnesses. Our ecstasies and smiles abound.
Our notes and strokes passionate and fallen.

We made music. And goddamn,
___it was quite the symphony.
Let us bow and stride into
soundless fits laying now.

Almost Exposed

"Honesty is very sexy."- Valerie Bertinelli

Listen, doll, we've gotta talk.

I tore open your seams to get to know you better,
to see that you weren't just fluffy, freckley, girl

but I pulled ferocious and now I'm inna revelation,
and you're not too happy either since your

I'msaved securities and your thatsalrights and your
satin smiles and your preciousness gazes

are falling out dustcaked and without cohesion,
whitewashed in the bright exposure of your facade frayed.

And I know I'm no Dalai Lama, but I'm no Nosferatu, either.
And where you might be irreparable because you fell in love

and didn't come out until after you had drowned, or whored
yourself in numbers, in power, and not in passion or heart,

or carry on in solidarity with onehitwonder women when you
really mean to and do bat black lashes at all the pretty boys,

coyly, or fuck in obligation to a grand wining and dining,
I can still sew up whatever nicks and notches you've cut

and interrogated. But why would I want to? I tried to teach you
honesty, and though you've turned your head times already,

leaving those holes for you to peek through is the best lesson
still. I've got no coarse words, I'msaved securities,

thatsalrights to hide. No satin smiles, preciousness gazes,
or awkward answers to your questions to hide. Nothing.

You can tell everyothers' ears about how puny you think I am,
but I've been chugging my spinach and sticking to my guns,

and--though you're right that I've reserved my right, a
proclamation

to more tell you I how feel, No. To tell you how I feel more,
to tell you more how I feel, to tell you I feel more for you,

to tell you how more I feel for you--I deserve a bigger better
megaphone, a bigger better you. Stop being a fucking girl.

Start being a fucking woman, doll. I think you look the part.
And clean yourself. Stitch thread and needle

tightly and soon you'll open up.

MTA

I: Observations

Cliche heels click along dots
and
ties tie down pistol whip shots
and
churros scour the roofs of our mouths
and
beggars bite to the platform like a louse
and
beats
_____beats
__________beats break a rhythm out of

buckets
and
sticks
and
trashcanSHOUTs

and
kids will tumble through cars selling chocolate
and
kids will danceflashdanceflashowyeah with hats
up off out onthefloor ontheirarm inyourface
y
Los Mexicanos con una guitarra y un acordeon y la voz bonita
tocar musica que es muy magnifico
and
cars that smell like piss for no apparent reason until that
reason's made apparent by bag-lady or crustyovercoat-man
and
if change isn't handed out through smiles, stares and
stares away are out through stoics
and
we wait for doors and pushy people and drooly heads
to lift from our shoulders smirking
and
heads will bobble while pupils will gaze,

drones will stare while we flash them unphased,

and the colors and numbers will sacrilege saveus.


II: Thoughts

Sanctuary sounds niccce between
messy _________________________screeches and whistles.
Essay means "to try" and so I'll
essay__________________________parallel the controlled chaos
therein, thereafter, descensions
tetris_________________________from stairs and escalators.
and ascensions live too through
Escher_________________________with a perambulating equilibrium.


III: Periodic Address

New York, New York: half of your days are spent in a
messy
essay
tetris
Escher.


IV: Conceding Epilogue

And I know that you're just as bittersweet as I am when we can see humanity but can't the





sunset subterranean.