Two Poems

In my past lives I must have met everybody
for Kevin Killian and Dodie Bellamy

gazing into my crystal ball, Angel Ariel searching for my past lives she hasn’t been forthcoming with answers soooo I logged onto facebook and took a quiz which stated, “In your past life you were Marylin Monroe. In this life you continue to be radiant, happy, whimsical, and daring...” wandering around Strand Bookstore in a miniskirt flirting with staff yes I’ll have sex for money I thought for sure I had been a renegade 1960’s visionary gay pornstar or Frank O’Hara or Sylvia Plath sans husband but Ariel keeps suggesting my interpretations are self involved that I was a girl, then a boy that died alone of AIDs he didn’t even know what he had contracted nor time to care about the silver screen soooo far from everyone that raised him they loved him before he left to New York City to be the next diamond drinking and fucking on the docks men crashing through the ramshackle ceilings men fucking on top of the corpses the train ride from Missouri to New York his first and last another boy on the train had the same revelation soooo they shared bunks and took a shower together wherein the conductor caught them and demanded they pay him extra cash which the boys didn’t have soooo they offered their souls and pleaded their way Dear Marissa Nadler it’s Brooklyn Dear Marissa Nadler we’re at your show in Brooklyn and I’m sitting in the chair you were in before the show began you hugged a boy and drank beers as your audience filed past the image fraught with tenderness your music is pleasant and I often fuck men with your record spinning in the background I like listening to sad starry eyed females singing while engaging in homosexual liaisons usually I play the submissive have you ever downloaded me and fantasized my mouth a hole for stuffing inanimate objects into other witches have and I’ve opened myself to them my mirrors I’m in love with a girl I use girl figuratively as an expression of soul she is a singer too I never listen to her when I engage in prostitution I listen to you and light candles ethereal reality it’s beautiful it’s white magick sometimes a girl has to separate herself from the corporal world to remain my hymen appreciates that bitch likes to gab do you need to be ravaged in order to feel whole I am obsessed with sorrow and I do believe pain is the center of the universe I engage in masochism because I am the universe and so are you so please keep singing with each note and word I am able to better understand who I am forget about meaningless noises I’m always hungry for life both raw and perfect the most important aspect of a canvas is the color and the textures an artist chooses to create your voice is imageless when audibly digested one must unravel a stark complex fragile noise ooh ooh lonesome me