Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Greedy Bees

I know that as you groped her face
your fingers were stained from
the cigarettes you rolled.
Her flesh withered with
every greedy touch.

A wax smile dripping
from your lips,
keep her from the beehives you weave,
keep her from the bees.

The Gentleman

Does the gentleman notice the sky
when his eyes roll with the trains?
Or does he lose himself in the commerce
of graffiti and architecture?
He smirks at the Jewish clowns,
averts eyes with people destined
for Co-op city, and pushes his chest
into the sickly air for a smile
from a young princess.
He flies on the sweat of engineers
and lectures on a detox of the ghetto.
What's a volunteer in a Calvin Klein suit?
A cockroach with a fashion sense.