back when I was a bug
a wee little bug
things were never this hard!
I drank my morning dew
and feasted on mites
communed with sprites
everything was allllllllright

back when I was a worm
I didn’t yearn so much
didn’t wallow or grovel
I wriggled free, baby! 
did the dirt a big favor
and shared my spoils easily 
soil through skin

back when I was a star
I was far out and few between
the twinkle in your eye, wasn’t I?
not some notch on a warriors belt
but the eye serpentine
and also an elf

Dinah thinks this poem will turn sour 
like when I was a bunch of grapes 
we jostled for rank and status 
on the vine that was our home
 
our cage
and what rage 
to be smashed 
distilled
and swilled

“nothing scares a wino but running out of wine” 
nothing scares a grape but leaving the vine

please teach me 
how to be a bug again

I luv to scream
n yelp
n howl
n squeeeeeeeeal
n squeak!!
n stutter
n stall
n SCREECH 
n skskskksksks
n purr
n preen
n prowl
n mewl 
n meow
n sigh

listening 
to the little sounds 
tap & click & creek

a soft sigh
ur hand on my thigh
diaphragm expanding contracting

a mockingbird in brush
nestles rustles scuttles 
& sings

bee among hornets
among flies among 
grapefruit & OJ & tea

on the candle 
picking at its layers of use 
digging into the wax

fretting over this & that
soft sweet wood 
soft sweet sleep

to tear my fingernails 
and weep
unconscious 

oh buzz 
oh sing
the flower at the center 

the flies go further 
than any other bug
would dare to enter 

yes I wanna get free
yes I like my girls
taller than me
no I don’t think, ever
is a time outside of time, for ever
is a time inside of time
please baby please baby 
baby baby please

the horny poet is dying
doesn’t remember names anymore
tries to think about her lovers
but can’t conjure anything but images

             their faces 

little kisses. and regrets. 

feeling icky and bricky
two weeks           behind on estro
mones and mood swingin like Bird
hey may b I’ll take a trip 2 Camarillo
and they’ll make a special arrangement for me to relax
put in a good word for me
at CSUCI (see?)
Foucault would crème his pants another prison has become school

the new-old language 
that’s in my thighs
my swing my tilt
and do-si-do 

i bounce with you
feel the stomach 
tighten up

To (re)quest
For an (un)alter(ed) destiny 
“Defend the dead / weight of circumstance” 

make circles 
round
make circles 
round 
make circles 
round
make circles 

Richard Prince 
famous thief
was born in the Panama Canal Zone

Famous pilfered poet plot of land
made the subject of demands 
time and time again by North American hands 

they fan the flames of war and don’t even know it 
Assemblage of stolen opportunities 
Moments memorialized by absence 

I share my horoscope 
with a gas and oil company 
I share my company 
with the gas and oil industry 

An abscess upon your legacy 
Spit upon your pity party 
A tart to ruin your life 
and steer the knife into your heart