HEATHCLIFF-HUGHES V
________________
Point Shirley
The Junk Yard
The Thin Man
Badboy of Bendylaw
Night Crawlers
White Maggots
The Companion
_______________
Point Shirley
“The sea collapses”
—Sylvia Plath
“Point Shirley,”
The Colossus
Funny how a photo—
Can make the sea collapse
Wave after wave—
Against the seawall
Squall waves dance—
The sluttish, rutted sea
A thresh-tailed shark—
Through the cellar window
A geranium bed—
Littered spewed relics
Drab dog-faced sea—
Pawed, tossed and lost
The sun sinks down over—
Boston and Court Green
Here I am alone—
Spumy dead dove
The Junk Yard
“nourishes these
broken flutings”
—Sylvia Plath
“The Manor Garden,”
The Colossus
The junk yard—
Full of junk
Junky old cars—
A cemetery of death
I spend my time—
Ratting around the ruins
Days go by—
Centuries of junk
When I’m bored—
Nothing else to do
I take my Story—
To the junk yard man
It’s pretty easy—
Piecing it together
Things that quit—
I like the best
I fit them into—
Something new
That’s all my—
Narrative needs
Some junk from—
Here or there
Language is my—
Junk yard
Lost and found—
My storyline
The so-called—
Story of my life
Badboy of Bendylaw
“on the King’s highway”
—Sylvia Plath
“The Bull of Bendylaw,”
The Colossus
He was such a bully—
The badboy of Bendylaw
He bent me bad—
In the mulberry arbor
Stiff as a Jack—
In a playing card deck
He fingered my pussy—
He made me panic
He wouldn’t stay put—
Until the pudding flowed
The lords and ladies fled—
The florid sun beat down
Big Ben gonged—
Pell-mell the Thames
He got me good—
He got me bad
Nothing like a lout—
To make a girl pout
The Thin Man
“so lean”
—Sylvia Plath
“The Thin People,”
The Colossus
The tall thin ones—
Never meager of dimension
Up there on the movie screen—
Gary Cooper hung like a horse
They’re so very endowed—
Trigger always gets the attention
How famished we are for—
The lean and the mean stars
Long lanky limbs so nice—
That wrap-around our necks
They have a talent—
The thin ones well-endowed
Their never need guns—
It’s more like donkey kong
The insufferably nimble—
Nimbus that makes us numb
So weedy a race—
Demands generous head
They persist in dark ways—
Limping after a good lay
Their thin-lipped smiles—
Our stiff strangleholds
Their wasp-thin waists—
Physiques slim and sleek
Night Crawlers
“nudges and shovers”
—Sylvia Plath
“Mushrooms,”
The Colossus
Each night very discretely—
We night crawlers take a stroll
We’re the big anaconda—
Compared with little earthworms
Nobody much sees us—
Except fishermen on the prowl
Getting ready to pierce us—
With sharp harpoon hooks
We make excellent bait—
For the carnivorous catfish
We may be earless and eyeless—
But we’re fat, plump, perfect
Bad-mannered boys know—
What we’ve got they’ve got
Nightcrawlers down there—
Hiding from the fags
Those catfish out there—
Not the only carnivores
The Disquieting Muses
“the company I keep”
—Sylvia Plath
“The Disquieting Muses,”
The Colossus
Who knows what—
Unsightly uncles were mine?
What queenly cousins there—
In my queer Family Tree?
Hidden, uninvited to all—
The Family Reunions
The hushed gossipy news—
That I was slightly like them?
Maybe not just slightly—
Perhaps the spitting image?
All my mouthless, eyeless—
Disquieting male muses?
Dancing at the discos—
Blinking like dead fireflies
Did I wonder in the ‘90s—
Whatever happened to you?
All your gay arabesques—
Pirouettes & nightclub thrills
Was I just tone-deaf—
To what you already sang?
Learning, living, knowing—
What you already knew?
My gone unknown muses—
Waiting in the bijou wings
I never, never found you—
I didn’t know where to look
I played it by ear with my—
Traveling salesman intuition
Male muses I was born with—
The shadow side of my life
Somewhere in my genealogy—
You disquieting muses lived
White Maggots
“white maggots coil”
—Sylvia Plath
“Medallion,”
The Colossus
I peeled your snake back—
Your pale pink foreskin
It was limp as a shoelace—
Veiny, twisty, crooked
I tongued your tip—
With my forked tongue
It takes a snake to—
Know a snake, my dear
Little vermilion slit—
About an inch long
When you hissed & spit—
It was two thick streams
One up my ratty nose—
The other in my weasel eye
It ruined me for life—
I did it again
The Companion
“nose-end that twitches”
—Sylvia Plath
“The Companionable Ills,”
The Colossus
When my rat-face twitches—
Nervous and expectant
When my nostrils widen—
Getting shockingly erect
When they get clogged—
With snot in my bed
When they get runny—
And juice begins to flow
That’s when you dig in—
Your boots and spurs
When I squeeze your—
Loinchops & you squeal
That’s when you become—
My cumly companion
My complaisant—
Debauched loverboy
No comments:
Post a Comment