Love Omens

My nose never itched,1
my right never twitched, 2
and I have collapsed up so many flights of stairs3
physicists documented my existence as the exception to gravity.

Even though the creases of my palms make M&M’s, 4
I have never sneezed on a Saturday. 5
Though these legs are scratching posts6
and every night I dream
of a steaming ocean
with soap sud continents
and kingdoms of rubber duckies, 7
these hands are coated
in the guts of ladybugs and dragonflies8
whenever I grasp for you
whoever you will be.

Every boquette of roses
every box of chocolates
every card
every poem
every jewel
transforms into the snot-soaked handkercheives9 I blew
when I learned, after choking on gallons of ant eggs and honey10,
love sickness is a malignant cancer.

I have plucked whole countries clean of their daisies, 11
commited holocaust one petal after another.
I questioned and bitch-slapped every flower under glaring florescent lights:
Does she love me or does she not?

3,400,000,000 women
arranged in a single-file line from Venus
to eat their half of the strawberry; 12
yet under the semen-white moon
they part from the bridge, 13
and in the silence
I hear knocking. 14


1. If your nose itches, an admirer is thinking about you.
2. If your right twitches, you will meet your admirer soon.
3. If you fall up the stairs, you will meet your lover.
4. If a gypsy can trace an “M” in your palm, you will meet your spouse soon.
5. If you sneeze on a Saturday, you will meet your future spouse.
6. If a young maiden’s legs are hairy, she will meet her husband soon.
7. If you dream of taking a bath, you will meet your future lover.
8. If a ladybug lands on you, somone is going to kiss you, and if you catch a dragonfly, you will soon meet your lover.
9. Especially for men, giving your lover a handkerchief is bad luck.
10. Ants eggs and honey is supposedly a remedy for love sickness.
11. Plucking the pedals of a daisy is a way to find out if someone loves you or not.
12. If you share a bit of a strawberry with someone, you are soon going to marry that person.
13. If two lovers part ways on a bridge, their love is going to end soon.
14. The most obscure of all, I presume. If a young maiden went out through the village at night and she heard a cow low, she would soon find her lover; but if she heard knocking from somewhere, she was doomed to never find love. Also a reference to a line from The Last Man on Earth.

Important Note: Because publishers will never accept a poem that has already been posted on the internet, these poems will be taken down if I ever feel the urge submit them to magazines.

Apollo and Daphne

Apollo and Daphne

You never knew that I was your sunlight guardian on the battlefield
fighting vigintillion silver moon-rapists surging for your chastity
only to crumble to ash before my solar flare blade.
Forever, it seemed, their dust would blanket the naked Earth,
that I would thrive on the heights of Olympus
with my eyes affixed unwavering unpon holy stars
    flawless brain
    sinless heart
Days of horizons infinite.

But then a coward toga-infant fired a gold razor missile
and this titan toppled from the heavens into the mud.

I blinked away muck
to find myself transported to a hidden crystal lake
where rainbows dive into diamond cascades reflecting shattered starlight.
A silken song lifted by the breeze rippled from the other shore,
where your sparkling milky nakedness plucked fruit from a tree
and turned to me with sadness unspeakable.
When I glimpsed your freckled face of destiny
I became mortal.

means to sprint behind your heels
by the fire of a gilded soul:
to climb over colossus mountains breaking through clouds
your face a moon hanging in the sky.
(I’ll rip the hair off your skull)
to scuttle through valleys under the shadow of Venus
trapped between the heights of your perfection.
(I’ll strip you of your dress)
to wander forests, scouring for your footprints,
haunted by your ghost when the campfire dies.
(I’ll claw your ankles to the bone)
to crawl across sun-pulverized deserts
as your mirage dances away on the dunes.
(yet it does no good, for I am just another moon-man)
to sail upon black cyclopean seas, dodging tridents of lightning, ever-onward!
for a beacon that seeks to snuff itself out.
All of my precious memories are fading—
to fly through light-years of glowing nebulaes, star systems, swirling galaxies,
trapped in the flaming tail of your comet.
—except for the hour
when you became my doom.

I am an ancient one, trembling against a cane,
when I stumble upon you again
but now
all I see
is a tree.

Your skin is bark
Your eyes are hollow
Your heart is wood

In awe I caress my hand through laurel leaves,
the hair I once dreamed
and I weep for a lifetime stolen.

So here I slumber, at last embraced by your cold and mindless roots,
to nourish my dream that never dies
under an obelisk engraved:

You are the lost
I am the dead

Important Note: Because publishers will never accept a poem that has already been posted on the internet, these poems will be taken down if I ever feel the urge submit them to magazines.