Thursday, November 23, 2006

Joe Gillis, Floater or What It's Like To Live In LA

the wheezy warm embrace
the safety
all up in Barbara Streisand's nose
like Jonah in the belly of the whale
there is no escape
only acceptance
i can only be saved
by the miraculous
by Robert Redford's warts
by Martin Scorsese's eyebrows
by Julia Robert's lips
by J-Lo's booty
by the little squirrel that lives in Madonna's cooch
or...
what is that?
rumbling this way
like certain death with garlic breath?
a large greasy tumbleweed
rolling across the city
of despair
crushing the dreams of midget pornstars
it's Diana Ross's hairball
and it's picking up speed
rushing toward Barbara Streisand's nose
like Godzilla vs Mothra
and Barbara's nose stands up
honking angry, protective
power-snotting venemous goo
as D-Ross's hairball
vicious as barbed wire
engages the shnozz
the battle of the divas rages
o sweet hairball!
Barbara's nose cannot hold up
to the righteous fury
it's Diana Ross's hairball
in a first-round knockout
and I am blown free
I lay in the streets
exhausted, soaked in shmoo
coughing poisonous goo
o sweet hairball!
take me to Malibu
wash me clean
and put me to bed
as the waves
lap at the beach
lick at the sand
steady and loving
as Sappho
at a Girl Scout convention...

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Come Back, Little Sheba

sleep is no longer my friend
my dreams have betrayed me
I find myself lost
Martin Scorsese's eyebrows have departed
come back
come back
come back, my bushy buddies
come back
come back
and save me from
a new nocturnal demon
the sound and the fury
screeching in my brain
can only be
Barbara Streisand's nose...
Barbara Streisand's nose
is now in charge
of the chase
across the landscape of loss
Barbara Streisand's nose
is powerful and angry
like a hippo on crack
with an itchy ass
and as it drags itself
like a wet snail
of insidious intent
along Melrose Avenue
spilling liberal doses of snot
shopping for a nose bra
with a swastika
in between sappy songs
massive and swollen
allergic to humanity
awe-inspiring like
an Easter Island head
dripping green
I run
Barbara Streisand's nose
is gaining on me
I run screaming
and finally, exhausted
I fall
it's Sunset Boulevard
Barbara Streisand's nose
snuggles close to me
gripping me
in a wheezy embrace
of insidious intent
sucking me inward
as warm streams of vaginal goo
leak from necrotic nostrils
I scream
I am being sucked
into the dark cave
where dreams go to die
i'm wet and poisoned
save me, dear Marty
forgive me, sweet Marty
don't let me drown
in a puddle of snot
from
Barbara Streisand's nose
I can't fight it anymore
I drink the liquid which flows
like nectar from your nose, Babs,
I call you my rose, my pumpkin,
my honey, my doll
we'll sell this script together
it's our love story after all
Bruckheimer can produce
we'll show Marty who runs Hollywood...
you and me, Babs...
hurry Marty, hurry, she's winning
I can't resist much longer...
lights, camera, action...

Thursday, October 12, 2006

The Getaway

I scream in my sleep
Martin Scorsese's eyebrows are chasing me
across LA
I carry a tired cardboard suitcase stuffed
full of my old writings
novels and screenplays
and scraps of ideas
jotted onto bar napkins
crowding away the
phone numbers
of lovers gotten
and forgotten
notes for unwritten books
spill as I run
Martin Scorsese's eyebrows are chasing me
across LA

Sartre On The Rocks

I am nauseated by Martin Scorsese's eyebrows...
Like standing up in a rowboat after drinking too much Jaegermeister...
Like e-coli spinach rotting slowly in the warehouse of my guts...
Like Darfur, like bad Boston accents, like spinning myths out of cheap spaghetti...
I am nauseated by Martin Scorsese's eyebrows...
Have you seen them dance?
There used to be a chicken down on Canal Street, in an arcade,
Who used to dance, but the arcade is gone,
the chicken is long roasted --
Obsolete, your services are no longer needed...
You have been replaced by Martin Scorsese's eyebrows...

I'm Haunted By Martin Scorsese's Eyebrows

I'm haunted by Martin Scorsese's eyebrows...
I study the way they wiggle for hidden Satanic messages
I wait with dread heart for some cartoon devil to pop out
Cackling and screaming like some Guinea/Mick Jiminy Cricket
on crack
I'm haunted by Martin Scorsese's eyebrows...
Thick and bushy, luxuriant as mink,
Supple as a ferret,
black as tar
nimble
noble
Nobel?
Able to leap tall emotions in a single bound --
I'm haunted by Martin Scorsese's eyebrows...
Haunted, sleepless, obsessed with Pasta...
Studying Vodka for lunch...
Haunted, Marty, haunted...