Gorilla Blue #4

Gorilla Blue #4


Blue ape walking

.          on the sidewalk

.                    a fuzzy blur

.                             through the window

know it’s a kid

.          wearing bluejeans

.                    and a grownup

.                             in a blue coat

.                                       walking a dog

but want to see

.          a blue ape or

.                    a blue tiger

.                             named Pendleton

.                                       and to feed him

.                                                meat on myspace


-April 20th, 2017



Remember working at the liquor store

.            where I wished my voice away

.            wanting not to wrestle those

.            drunk bums rich bastards

.            buying bigger bottles of booze.

Sore throat sick a week since Sunday

.            speechbox cracked and quivering

.           with a cough cough cough

.           it came back crippled limping

.          cringing through my cigarettes.

I used to vent a velvet air of richer tones

.           a dandy deft delivery of

.           something sweet inside me

.           but I killed it with a dirty wish

.          and now I croak veracity.

This voice I have to fight with now

.            does not do so prettily

.            but starts and blurts obscenities

.            tones that try to turn the fractured

.            world. I want to watch it burn.



Don’t you dare

.          grab our brethren

.          grab our freedom

.          grab our pussies

from where we see you loudly lying

with your face tweeting under our feet

.          hide the asshole

.           hide the stains

.           hide the blood.

We will wear red boots and

we declare that orange is our enemy

.          eat the morsels

.          eat the marrow

.           eat the midnight

We suck the bones of Justice

in the decaying flesh of the Patriarchy

.           we who mourn

.           we who dance

.           we who fight

we are the women in black.

Shit Magnet

Shit Magnet


A seagull shat on my arm

from a few hundred feet up.


My white coat is “water-proof”

but it still catches stains like:


coffee, espresso, lattes, chai,

London Fog, and bird shit.


“Hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi!”

The PGE man squawks at me.


“Do I look like I want to be

said ‘hi’ to?” squawked at?!


“I was just saying ‘hi’ and

I was just being NICE.”


“That’s street harassment

And it is NOT OK!” I say.


I was on the phone earlier

about my sexual assault.


PGE Man does not know I am

a loaded gun, a touchy trigger.


This walking open sore

wants not to be seen.


Shit. I knew I shouldn’t’ve

bought this bright raincoat.