Channel U/Silver Bullet
This is the reliefof making a decision
on a carnal planein a vintage bikini
call it platinum gravitythe weasel skeleton
the fast-talking valley girl vampire mask.
During the cold warwe play jokes on her tits
and hide in a hammockafraid of the gangster.
I like how the actiontakes place in the rain
locked in the shopping mall
in the course of four porcelain hours.
I like it so muchI swallow your candle or suck
I like how your t-shirt is covered in blood
the day we go to the witchcraft museum
sewage in the waterhow you eat a hotdog
we cry at the beach.
I like how the darkness of Hollywood gets me
the darkness of mallsspiders and frogs
live in the fountainyou said I had two hours
but I fished out the pennies
and ate them all anyway.I like how you said
I had a stake and a heart
the vinyl Halloween costumeinside the box
at the top of the closet.
I’m afraid to be Frankenstein’s bride
but you say I’ll look prettyif I tie the pink scarf
over my mouthcrowding my ankles
the dolls lining my shelvesturning into stars
I spend all my moneyon a nightbook
a daybookthe Halloween parade at the mall
the rigged bathing suit pageantthe sequins after the clock.
I can’t fear the reaperor the clocktower
I can’t make decisions until I am dead
but how long could that take
bounded by sunglasses, dirty bras, time?
Channel U/In Situ/Karma Not God
After the hotelI will not take your calls
cracking the jack-in-the-box
cracking the saintwho pursues my transitions
feel how soft her hair is.
At the creamery she told me
all girls are promiscuousand you have breeder hips
and these days the bleep in the night air
is humid as blood.
You go to the psychicshe just follows your lead
a no. 1 glamor girlbecomes corpse 83.
You say don’t take a sidethe film disappears
no title to conjurethe ginger beer zip
and we’re both horrible people
antenna snappingthe past and the manwith a hook for a hand
your twisty bottle inside me
pale as pig pinka sick little blonde
on the cheap sleep of pills
a blowjob joke in the hoteloverlooking the suspension bridge.
I wear a black wig and a corset
I wear a feathered arrow and a headband
like it’s gone through my skull
I play hopscotch to wrap you in bandages
like a postmortem James Dean
your cock ringed in fire and ice lipstick.
The secret is not to make it so precious
dying in Brooklyn with a moon on your face
or in Venice Beach catching tears in my jewelry
watching soap operasshort movies
your smell on my life.
Three made a trend even back then
in a blue shawl with pearlsI played dress-up
with death and a backbrace.
You said you hated mea glass full of static
you turned into a kitchen knife
salt on my lap.
I’m trying to make time
but I’d rather make a detective story
another partial nostalgiawhere we eat spaghetti
and you give me the pills
and we lick the murder
cornfed and tanstraddling the branch
the only way to see herwithout being seen
waiting next to the creek for the white van.
There was a time when the big spider swallowed
in its God-shaped purse
strawberry lipglossthe pleasure planchette
a middle mealthe twin bathing suits
we could not put on.
I tried to wear one and so did my doll
paranoid and abstracthalf-haunting the attic.
You said it was magic. I said it was research
a badge fighta horsea trash renovation
and outside the window
the black car kept running
all through the dream
the bloody dashboardbad energy
that kept you from marrying me.