DOGHOUSEBLUES draft1

DOGHOUSE BLUES

this morning

I fell in love

deep inside obsession

biting my lip

and harmonizing soft hums

outside of body

strike me now

hit me

smooth me

always consistently

six hands

nine eyes

30 toes

and just one button nose

I devote myself

to your

super-sonic-steam-punk-funky

we can boogie down moonlit stairs

getting closer to stereos

and hand woven rugs

guitars and sitars

and smoke and drink

far away

from company

where

on a table

loose rolled dough

and brown sugar

and three aces and two sevens

low candles

and scraps of lace

--or nothing at all

(you could lay me down)

and on the walls

all my poems

overactive

--fucking high

(I should’ve cleaned up before you arrived)

and outside

on the balcony

is where I spend my time

singing your songs

swaying hips side to side

“these are my doghouse blues”

I sing in cold colors

pounded brass bowls

so loud they are silence

(a string

runs between

ears and tunnels of brains--it’s taut

permanent

gentle)

tattoos turning torrents--

tactile and tasty/tumultuous and tough

too soon to say