wordcloset

lace in center
meets blackness satin
& bow at chest, useless.

i shall write a photograph	about this dress
so you can take a poem	 		of me in it.

 i used to write poems about arizona
disguised as poems about arizona
disguised as poems about the desert
deserting disguises, disguises.

now i write photographs about dresses
emptyminded fabricmade bouquets
and the poems they can morph into magic
with the aid of skinpainters and suns.

something about this gen-x journey
of b.a.s and twiddling thumbs 
made my art drop loose its borders-
now i call it writing when i pose
biding time inside my eyes
stories hidden beneath foundation
memoirs buried under blush
a liturgy, two fables		lined around my lips.

i grew proficent at the skill
of ten books in too few weeks
could have moved right on to days but
instead i attempt to be the best 
at pouting but not looking grim
clothing has tied up my heartstrings
so yes, i'll hold that stance once more.			someday soon you will see
i'm gonna write a real poem again
       create something useful for this world
       like i used to do before
i could find world peace
in a vintage store peignoir
or decapitate capitalism
while strutting down the catwalk.
yea i'm gonna write a real poem again
just as soon as i remember which closet
 i store all my good words in.