Effete Goliath

Effete Goliath, nothing’s real.

Forgot how soft a face can feel.

Touched you once above the knee

and felt mine buckle under me.

Cruise the tideflats to the bay.

One headlight out, what do you say?

Honey in the lemonade.

Sirens steal the right-of-way.

Hot palm to roof. My belt is loose

and I’ve got night for days.

Hot palm to roof. My belt is loose

and I’ve got night.

Dog in laundry, cat in heat.

Took three years to warm to me.

I play it cool, I play the fool.

I’m foggy, but you still see through.

Dandelions were for wine,

their tender stems to intertwine.

The pillars tipped themselves, in time --

now Erysichthon’s hunger’s mine.

I kept the script, but lost the lines.

You kept the costume.

I kept the script, but lost the lines.

You kept the costume. Can’t rewind.

Pancake makeup. Waffle-pressed

stuffing stuffed into your dress.

Picnicking beneath the spires:

midnight dizziness and wires

radioing frequencies

too high-strung to taste or see,

but your tongue keeps glimpsing out

and songs dance in your

mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-

mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-

mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-

mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-

mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mou-mouth.

What is hate except the sound

of compassion trickling down?

What is love except the mess

left by despair doing its best?

What is madness except this:

sell my lips for one last kiss.

Dehisced and dripping threads distressed,

my sewn lips sip bliss, make a mess.

Sell my lips for,

sew my lips for,

sell my lips for one last kiss.

Sell my lips for,

sew my lips for

so my lips must just

reminisce.