Juice Box Girl
(After Midnight Moments)
I’m a juice box girl,
squeeze me, play me
like an accordion,
box-shaped, but gagged edges.
Breathe me inside out,
I’m nude, fruity, fractured,
strawberry melon,
nightshade wine.
Chicago, 3:00 a.m.
somewhere stranded
someone’s balcony
memories undefined,
you will find me there
stretched naked, doing
the Electric Slide,
taking morning selfies
upward morning into the sun
then in shutters
closeout pictures
Chiquita bananas,
those Greek lovers
running late,
Little Village, Greektown
so many men’s night faces fading out.
Wash cleanse in me.
I’m no Sylvia Plath
in an oven image of death
I resuscitate; I’m still alive.
Sweet Nectar (V2)
Daddy wants to seea hummingbird.
Ruby-throated hummingbird
devil in feathers,
Illinois baby come to me
challenge my feeder
sip up, drain nectar,
no straw needed.
You are a master of your craft.
My thumb your measurements
your brain 1-grain size
white rice the same as mine.
Your vision impeccable
clean your glasses thick and sticky,
murky migration into your
miracle little boy
prove 2 me you
are the real Wild Bill Hickok
dancing with your Calamity Jane
tick tock, a year there, year back,
3,000 miles across the saltwater
the route to Mexico, traveler
landing South America,
shake the dice toss them
you bandit.
Will you return hummingbird
daddy is on the blender,
mixing new formulas
bright new color nectar.
Rochdale College
Freedom School, I Exiled in Time
Toronto, Canada (1972)
Chased by this wild, I was a black wolf of time
freedom extinguished me-
I died on borrowed time,
I died on hashish,
I died on snorting cocaine,
I died on the “H” man, heroin,
LSD, acid passed around hallucinated me
into Disneyland without my house slippers.
I nearly jumped 18 floors without hemp,
straight down breaking through plate glass,
Jesus invisible was my invincible Superman.
I nearly died listening to
American Woman, Guess Who,
they feed me downers for my overdose.
I nearly died in a small room
balling an unknown little bitch from Montreal.
All those little pills in dresser drawers, yellow, pink, and red.
I nearly died, Yonge Street, with hippy beads,
leather purse, belt, fake gold chain, and small pocket change.
I went the way I didn’t know where to go,
searching for heaven ending at entrance
hells gate, Mount Pleasant Cemetery.
Let me fluoresce, splatter red on the asphalt
of my exiled heart.
Let me follow the freedom school,
Summerhill, England, free love.
(Note: Rochdale College was patterned after Summerhill School-
Democratic “freedom school” in England founded in 1921
by Alexander Sutherland Neill with the belief that the school
should be made to fit the child, rather than the other way around.)
Dumpster Fire Press 