Firth O Love

firtholove

California was unification in my mind

televisions signals

genetics sculpted by television signals

or these are family planning models

your hands held my wrists

oh eucalyptus trees on high over the
ridge

gray skies to sweep the ocean

so many sadness made tears

mornings as neglected children

plastic cups and plastic bags down the
sea shorn fields

neglected planets

or

neglected children

our lack of eloquent civilization

these things are no coincidence

this is our fear of love

we live forth of symbols

not love forth of heart

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Cream, Sweat, Deodorant Infinity

Cream-Sweat-Deodorant-Infinity

Oh, the scent of her fall
cream, sweat, and deodorant
by the dark bedroom shadows
or morning living room sunlight
by the calls of our heavens
our ancestors
were lovers and deviants
breasts carved for spaceships
eclipses of planets
asses and shape shifts from
the young to the old
her crow’s feet aside her eyes
by porn star eyeliner
by the vestibule of my biological
carrying
I want her like the sunrise
everyday
for worship
for religion
until I die
or one of the middle age actresses
on “Designing Women”
these impressions are permanent
neural tissues or the Fountain
of Youth

Her Boobs Were By Computer

We were able to talk once

Looking on the street, it
is gone

Someone wanted hugs, did
someone want a hug

The landscape of the moment,
an orange mountain

Has turned to shadow
where the old ones with
leather and wood
kept talking as humans

Yet in the morning
with their children
they hold computers
amongst the silver bridges of
California

We have gone down to the
computer store,

but it is gone now too

When I Don’t Quite Make It

I come close to the set where
the television actors are,
but I don’t quite make it.
There’s a sign on the door that says
“SET”,
so I do not enter.
I’d like to know what’s inside.
Massages?
Clean sandwiches?
Cheque books?
Townhomes?
Convertibles?

Somewhere beige-walled foyers are,
with clean terracotta tiles,
the sun shines in on a brilliant perfect
Southern California morning,
but I do not make it.
I’m not there.
Their children are, not mine.
I breathe in with blood in my lungs.
Then I cough and hack something up.
My children are passing glances at doors
I saw Larry Hagman go bye-bye behind.

Perfection And The Alcoholic’s Diet Of Unborn Children

alcoholic's diet

This is the alcoholic’s diet of unborn children

Yes, that’s right

Their parents aren’t perfect but wanted
to be

Turning into walls
You didn’t say that sentence properly

That’s funny

Be better

Be quiet, you’re giving me a riot

There . . . ghosts!

Their ghosts?

They live everywhere, even in between the minutes
before watching television

Oh no,
I meant the alcoholic’s diet of unborn children

Not me, not my problem

I don’t have them

Oh just go kill yourself

You drinking again?

I don’t respect you

Telly Advert Adversaries

the TV talked and it said

you’re not good enough for me

it said instead

another woman was

then pointed me in the direction

of billboards and magazines

it said

there’s more over there

they’re better instead of these
fantasies

inside my head

there’s something even better
than these fantasies

that is what the TV said

that is what the TV’s saying

there’s
something better than you or I

Bourgeoisie And Meaning

Can we play celebrities please,
today, when it rains?
Will there be gift baskets
that we get,
courted and made to feel special
for at least an hour, maybe more than an hour?
For them to give us something meaningful
so we can go home and reflect on,
open our mouths at a later point
and say what we did, where we did it,
how it was done and who it was done in front of.
Can we talk?
Were you talking to me?
I was talking to you in the foyer.
You weren’t talking to me.
Now is my time to tell you what is important,
it is about me.
You don’t have anything to say, do you?
You never do.
This isn’t why we rolled around on the carpet,
this can’t be it.
This isn’t how we play celebrity.

You need to have breasts.

Nice Dresses

These blondes are pretty cute on TV.
They place them in nice dresses.
Nice dresses.
They follow their contours.
You know what it’s like
to be placed in nice dresses
and have your contours followed.
It’s a delicate world of vanity we build.
It helps us in our head.
It’s delicate and tender the touches
in our heart.
All of them are. All of them are.
We build. We build.

You, I and God know
this is what those nice dresses do.
Let’s place more of the blondes and
brunettes like you
in them.
Go down to church, new shopping malls,
svelte automobiles.
Our thinking will be good for teenagers,
millionaires and tycoons.
Our thinking will be good.

Molochs of masculinity.

Messages from New York City.

Silk blouses across breasts.
Steak dinners times ten.