Poems

When I Came With You (Revisited)

It was here one night
among white blossoms and junipers
that we lay touching
while the rest of the world
snored in their small beds

We breathed frost words to breezes on branches
breathing deeply in the deep woods
with no earthly destination
hidden behind the pulse of dawn
throbbing on a trigger’s touch

You were delicate incense I lit alone

In silence
my fingers found the sweep of stars on bare skin—
a house-warmth murmur of Christmas gold when you breathed

You were a bird
whose only cry came in color in the company of starlight
whistling up the violets
in a garden wilderness of dawn’s yellow daylight
flowering into streaming pinks
and fleshed with rose petals when I came with you

Photo Credit:
 Meireles Neto

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Poems

Car Hysteria (Seduction Revisited)

Earlier today
shopkeepers seduced pot-bellied old men
with sleek
fast
brand-new cars
that rubbed and kissed their trousers
and guaranteed to stop lonesomeness

Erstwhile minds backpedaled on leather seats
where stale memories surfaced and breathed new air
striking deals in brown cubicles
under the breath of fresh coffee

What she feared most
kicked and scratched
and wanted to grow big enough to crawl
from the backseat of a yellow Pantera
and seduce her all over again
while her husband and she waited
for his father to sign the lease
as wordy as Shakespeare but lacking any color

She stayed away from the thing of her past
that once bit her crotch for the taste of her sex

Some memories are the turmoil
of a soul knotted like hair in vomit
where forlornness and tumultuousness sting

Photo Credits:
 Tiko Giorgadze
 Matt Glm

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Poems

Dream Voyeur

When I sleep
you hide paralyzed in the shadows of my bed
where your courage to live vanished long ago

In your world of mocking corpses
you rub against me
in wingless dreams and knitted walls
and empty stares
that run from the drum of my heart

You bleed broken knuckles
against your hidden door to empty stairs
that led you once to a girl like me

You bring me fists of her dead flowers
and promise me a future of your past faded worlds

You wear her memory around your neck—
the noose of every man hanged by rejection
to bleed broken
among all the eggs of the future
dead

But you live your death
in these halls of feeble footsteps
outside my room
where your twitching fingers bleed to open empty cameras
and nail me to the windows of your eyes

Photo Credit:
 Alex Boyd

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My Tangerine Days, Writing

Computers And Masturbation

In conjunction with May being Masturbation Month, I share with you this little known fact about myself.

I discovered the computer world when I turned 9 in November of 1989. It was during my birthday that I overheard an uncle talk about his computer and the World Wide Web. Earlier that year, some science guy named Tim Berners-Lee at CERN, the European Particle Physics Laboratory in Switzerland, invented a way for computer geeks like my uncle to share information to other computer geeks like my uncle. He was the oddball relative (think of the Big Bang TV show) who was quiet, never married, and always had a faraway look in his eyes, more so when he was at his computers or with his geeky friends. His “crew” was mostly scientists and mathematicians, and many of them went on to become celebrated for writing and developing GUI versions of the Web for emerging browsers.

At the time, I had no idea what any of this meant and I wasn’t sure what a computer really was until my uncle gave us his ’85 Commodore Amiga. It had a single 880 KB 3.5-inch disk drive and 256 KB of RAM, which meant little to me, but it made him grin and lose that faraway lost-in-space look. Happily, he wrote programs and set up math problems for me to solve. And he showed me how to write my own programs. I was probably the only fourth grader who knew how to write BASIC equations. But unlike my uncle, I didn’t see why having a computer in the den was anything to get excited about other than playing video games. For me, the computer was a curio and nothing more.

That summer I flew with my mother to Pennsylvania to visit relatives for a month. For shits and grins, a cousin and I took a two-week children’s workshop in art sponsored by a local college. Right away, our teacher was handsome and I swooned hard enough that I could not pay attention in class. Eventually, I returned to earth and he soon kindled in me an interest in art and photography, which led me to a bookstore where I nagged my mom to buy me a half-dozen art books. She made me choose two and put the rest back. While I did, I bumped into a handsome boy carrying a computer book that featured the Amiga sitting back home.

“I have that computer.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. My uncle works for a computer company. He knows all about computers.”

It was a real turn-on to see how much I’d impressed that boy as I bragged about my uncle. I may have had my first orgasm while I boasted that he was developing a platform for hypertext. Wow!

Bobby and I exchanged names, addresses and phone numbers. And I left that bookstore with wet pants and two books about computers that would change my life forever.

Back home in California, my school was slow at jumping on my computer-crazed bandwagon, so I nagged my uncle to teach me everything he knew about computers. He didn’t, of course. I mean, after all, who wants to talk about work when they’re visiting their sister for some R and R? But I was persistent, so he hooked us to a Modem and introduced me to Usenet. From other users, I learned more about computers every day while I visited the “Big 8” worldwide newsgroups from 6pm to 8pm. It was there that I discovered alt.binaries and a world of illegally distributed commercial software, copyrighted media, and obscene material easily accessible to my preteen fingers and eyes.

Wow! … and uh-oh! But it was exciting, all the same.

I was 12 when weekends alone in the house and on the computer became my life. I wrote porn, masturbated, and discovered cybersex. Then my mother caught me and monitored all my computer activity. But I continued to write and watch porn in private and at friends’ houses, and I lived two cyber lives: the good girl who only used the computer at home to do homework, and the cyber vixen who, along with other girls, practiced safe sex on the Internet.

Whichever side of the issue you stand, I’m pretty sure I remained a real-life virgin much longer than if my uncle had chosen a different career.

So, in celebration of this special month, let me get undressed, get comfortable on my bed, open this laptop and…

My Tangerine Days, Poems

Coming In Color (Black and White Revisited)

My mind is empty among white blossoms.
My lips speak not of this bubble of a heart.
An attractive woman notices me anyway
and takes me as I am.

My habits flow to the sea
like American motorists on summer vacation.
The neighbors complain about our caravan
outside their windows in the early morning rain.

In blackened white and whitened black
you ride me to old tingles that used to come in color
when I came alone in storms
with a half-smile for the secret sunlight behind my clouds.

I see in your eyes you wondering if I love you
like the woman of skillful coitus loved me
the way fruit seeds only once before it dies
and populates the earth with new things to sow new gardens.

You touch me and struggle to feel alive.
I sing old songs that grasp at whatever hunger and edge I feel.
You tell me that sleeping with band dudes doesn’t make me famous.
All I want is to rewind to a hot breath hungry hands wet lips sensation.

We wish for a moment like our first time,
our hearts pounding, always like thunder,
our fluttering fingers stroking like clenched fists
fractured and poured out almost empty.

Letting go is so hard,
crashing us against bitter rocks,
hurling us bleeding far apart,
our good times forgotten amidst hostile after-thoughts.

I wake without you beside me.
I catch your scent in my hair and lose my breath.
I close my eyes and you get caught in my mind and always find your way to my—
you know where—and acknowledge me with fingers and tongue and … Wait.

No … yes. Why can’t I stop wanting you?
My cheeks flush every time I remember that which I don’t want to forget.
And there it is in black and white:
bedroom curtains flapping from a desert wind blowing doubt.

All my life I will submit … I have no respect … No shame.
All my life of hot wet rhythmic panting screaming choking—more more more.
I am this girl so dirty and smug and breathless again
holding on harder than I’m trying to let go.

“Rarely are we forgotten,” you say, “unless we’re dancing by ourselves.”
Your eyes are growing dark this time, your voice fading, your fingers slipping…
inside me—I’m singing solo but unready to dance by myself!
I let you in, you give yourself, I feel that familiar buzzing, coming in color.

My Tangerine Days, Poems

Kisses (Our Kisses Revisited)

Lower your lips to my heart
Where our souls touch and flame
Where you are ageless in my embrace
Protected enough to say you love me

Lay with me over moss and leaf
Drenched in last night’s rain
Their shimmering surf at our thighs
Where diamonds and poetry love to weep

In this discovery I descend with you
Your sweat and breath fill my caresses
Like blossoms joyous in formal delight
Mating when they wander from the sun

Even the trees shut their eyes to our pleasure
Bending on us bald and wild
Bearing witness to the moments born
When you and I come kissing…

My Tangerine Days, Poems

Tense Silence (Alone Revisited)

Tense silence in my bedroom but not in my head
Heavenly hymns hum from fingers strumming
Sweet music from songs in mind

Trembling chords of delightful tension certainly make this moment more attractive

I find a new discovery and add it to old ones
But no one sees the babe I’ve become
I have no shivers for you to see
Yet everyone shivers out there within a city in the cold
In a watching darkness that shivers in the night
Where bursts of alley sounds skitter deep in the gutters
Behind old men taking flight with paper bag angels
Far below shivers heaving warm on musicians erupting volcanically in my head
Amidst tense silence in my bedroom where all the doors and windows are closed