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.