Kurt

He got
what
he wanted,
loser -
fame,
fortune,
fuck.
It's easy,
but he dies
in the light of dawn
with that hound
on his trail.
Light bites
like devil fangs -
help him, somebody,
lock him up,
tie him down,
free him from fate,
a life looping
over and over
until he slips
through dusk
into night.
He remembers
he didn't buy bullets
for that gun.

The Sea is Here....

The way by which
she weaves
and bobs
and writhes
along the side of
satin waves
where sun shines
like monkey shines
about her breasts
and beasts speak
babble,
dance in furry feet
like leviathans
on a beach blanket
dance floor.
Where did I leave
my toothbrush?