Reb Livingston



Rare Hawk Evident


Hawk yes, freeway lifted flock

thick in soup, all apology

following white wiseacres.

Hawk maybe not.

Hawk faint on air.

Hawk die on beige.

Cougars run the turnip fields,

eating seed catalogues

banking in pants,

barking barnstormers,

what we call authorized curiosities.

She keeps a journal of Hawaiians,

there were notable leis.

Wet rub, dry rub,

the last of the yellow cake

happy blondness

breathless beige.

Hawk not so notch.

She found her pygmy gabba aphrodisiac

because she is alone.




My Lover Never


Lovers never were supposed to be our friends.

That’s passion’s funny lie.


Matrimony had a lover,

they took bike rides together,


shared an angel sex partner

tied her a cement block and utterly rejected her.


My lover never gave a handjob

in the muck, hardly.


My lover is a sex lamb, incensed

and salmon-colored


like that man over there,

pruning his foreign foliage, ignoring me.


Awfully American, pretending not.

A fancy American wearing stripes.


I’m wearing a skirt.

I tried to call, a little hurt.


Attending yet another wedding.

My lover pumps a bright bicycle,


hoards wire hangers, licks moths,

finds pleasures inside his mouth.


We must atone some, my love.

Something inside must climb and crinkle.




Apologies for Ice


No bread crumbs or constellations

I see nothing

Except thick trunks, leafy branches

Now is not the time for snow

But I pray for it anyway

It’s crisp and puts me sleep

Charm brings distrust

Wolves, June fools

It’s almost July

Grandma passed away, the wolf

Missed his chance and

Doesn’t know what to do with himself

I squandered mine

Fill freezer trays with water

Stockpile limes just in case

You stop by for a vodka tonic

You’re busy demonstrating your

Quaint breeding for elegant cruelty

Ignore, then apologize beautifully

Seize upon the cold retort

Now I’m the asshole swinging the

Hatchet with no regard for school children

So I bide my time sipping seltzer with the

Animal meant to gobble Grandma

People judge, disapprove

Yet he was the only one to

Send a condolence, start a dialogue

I’m lonesome with no one else

My winter valley upbringing

Taught me all skiers end up

Dead, twisted in the gully

Their locust eyes frozen like feelings

Still able to gaze upon our abundant short comings

As we pile their corpses on the wagon

Which is why my people

Keep their love on a switch

Flip it off and tape it down

Too bad about electricity

Once I was thankful for it

I will be again in

Another life, said sadly, fondly




Tonight I Doze


Because insomnia is no fun and who’s dark and frilly now?


Not me, yes me, oh woe whoah what did we step in this time?


Everything was textbook sweetness, t.v. show thrillingness


and then, then, fuck you and your then, hairy hands


spiral eyeballs, pat and rub, whimsy stick, I saw you


peek-a-wink, yes you simply offered alternative.


I lapped lipped your radiation, let you sneak in the side


kissed cursed your crooked eyelids, lived loved your false greetings


those were good days, those three, they shouldn’t have ended but


clocks, they were born to run, hah, I’m trying to be funny


you made me nervous, bulbous, fortuitous, I’m using big words


and I don’t know what they mean. I squealed for ya.


That’s what I did and you got sleepy and said now we could sleep.


I didn’t want to sleep, I wanted to talk and go back in time


so there’d be nothing to talk about and start over and graze


past, shake hands, shake an ankle, kiss kiss. There was that


stairwell, that lost opportunity of steps and railings.


Now I’m fat, draped in flannel and you take too damn long


to respond and never answer important questions


like . . . Sleep introduces figs and blueberries.


Sleep gives tomorrow. Dear beloved, let’s sleep again.