Honestly, I'm a Liar, & Other Balances & Imbalances

November 30, 2009

ah elusive love

A friend of a friend was a new nurse in a new high rise hospital where she mostly has clerical duties. One midday in the lunchroom, her break is broken when a man across the way from her starts making alarming choking sounds. A room full of nurses might humorously seem like an ideal location for choking, but our friend of a friend nurse has been away from hands-on medical aid for some time, she’s been busy on the computer w/the files for years, and could only notice that the other more proficient nurses seemed to be ignoring the situation. Confused and frustrated with their behavior she rushes over to the man (He’s a large man, not unlike myself, this big Irish head’s gotta ride on a big body. size isn’t everything)
She awkwardly positions herself behind him and begins to vigorously hug him,again and again from behind. It’s a bit difficult because of the man’s size, but she presses on. again and again. His choking breaks up some to a rasp and he mumbles that he’ll be all right.
After he shyly ambles off, our nurse turns to scowl & glare at her fellow professionals when one of them declares, “the police have been called, he’s done this before.”
I’m thinking that things aren’t always as they seem. Maybe this guy wasn’t a manipulative, sexual deviant. Maybe he was at the point where he Must have a hug. The things we do for love.

A guy I kinda know once talked about going to a professional massage therapist and decidedly took a Viagra beforehand. I’m thinking that things aren’t always as they seem. Maybe he loved when his lover laughed, it would be so precious when he told her. The things we do for love.

November 22, 2009

more gobbledeegook on the miracle

Filed under: poetry — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 11:35 am

Here’s a gold pen

Hope it lies open

Hope it lies openly

And when what lies beneath

Surely is.


And one (And all) will know more, bequeathed

What surely is.


explore then expose then espouse/pungent scents  of../off on tangent hints of../resurgent urgent urges of


November 12, 2009

found while prowling for Irony

Filed under: poetry, prose — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 10:01 pm



15 years back

Just as she was leaving their liason

He stretched his chest up

from disheveled futon sheets

to kiss her in his trailer,

She exclaimed

She made it clear

She was a type of lady

to his gentleman, in her mind;

“You Will  be walking me to my car”.

Though a gentleman;

“Maybe you talk to your soon to be ex-husband

Just like that, but I ain’t him, nor his dog”.

And somehow since

they were still young in.. their recent relationship,

She changed back to “I was kidding”.

15 years on

Right in the only twenty minutes of hard rain

                              in too many weeks

He walked her, beside her, and her under her bright umbrella,

to her car in their driveway

in the middle of the night

as he always did when he was home.

Safe to her car,

he returned to their home,

All his clothes soaked to his flesh,

His hair in his face,

he stood it stone still on the quiet  lit  doorstep

turned and watched her back out

and drive off. He toweled off some inside

and expected her call.

November 11, 2009

One Shame

Yr. really great to travel

                         across the state

To stay some and play some

Before  It’s trying time again

Then again away some.



You haven’t seen me unravel

                          from this state of


Cards splayed on the table,


Our “under the table” masturbation,

Cool coffee table conversation.

I’m a fool for being able to fashion

A scoldingly, scalding cool passion

I can let go.


I can let go of you

Each occasion

November 9, 2009

Leg lift just before those swift train doors close; an exercise

The next step/ waiting maybe wrong

                                               in dark matter

An other thing/ a rung on a dark ladder

A nothing/

As it happens/ not to happen

The next step/ leg stiff/ fixing to flex

to a leg lift/

I’m fixing to find/ A gift of intentions

To move me to move/

given/ attention enough

to move on/ away from the station


November 2, 2009


Filed under: poetry — Tags: , , , , , , , — namelessneed @ 8:46 am

At the Falls Cafe

Think of me as the waitress serving drinks at the Falls Café, who carries tumblers of iced water on a tilting silver tray above her head as she threads the crowds of tourists, always watching over that solitary guest who lets the skin grow on their coffee, whose fingers shred white serviettes, or circle the edge of their bitter cups, whose gaze is lost in the rainbows and mist. Think of my touch as the hand laid softly on your shoulder that returns you, blinking, back to earth, to the unbroken rolls on your table, this camera holding your face in the dark.