rush hour exhibitionism

rush hour exhibitionism
I wave and dance
catch ur eye
from yr Mercedes-Benz
Toyota, Tesla, or Pontiac Vibe

rush hour voyeurism
u call out to me
at a cross-walk 
and I’m too excited to see u really 
to talk

cruising 
is queer survival
crossing scents on the blood 
hound trail - to those that would do me harm 
en garde. 

joyriding 
is the very same
crossing streets, stalling, waiting
and then going

strolling
oblique feeling (my dog)
around in the park 
play the xylophone! in the park
an installation made possible 
by the arts 

ur not sick?
of gerunds and verbs
ear Brand

ear rhythm
& poem
hand meaning
& ghost 

do I need verbs 
like I act
do I need money
like I live
do I need sex
like I hold
do I need to write
like I read

PastLifeRecon

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