The Hermit's Valentine to His California Ghost Bride
You gotta move. Sloopy with me
shake it like it was not was
in the solstice breeze strangle.
I coast to boast of dandelion fuzz
& on the beach whips the pleasant off.
You're so fine there's no surprise
when the bison bat the penguin
out the stagecoach & take their rightful
shotgun. Tequila arriba in the klieg light
too bright for albino mariachis.
We're reeling in the right to fake it
for the franchise we agreed on Thai
during halftime now you say
it's the seventh-inning stretch. Sing
Alicia Keys in the middle of the day
where we do our business no matter
how devious. Don't now the sinners
praise too. The hibernation hits
you mime a mighty mustard.
Won't be long 'til June the big warm
ready for the rascal
& with me groove to greet
her in the shouting soft of summer.
Am louder when you come around
to clap with me our teepee. We go back
what we want to find not what
Goodman Gloryhole derives from
the tea leaves. Crochet me a cock-warmer
for these Cambridge nights been bitin'
me in the Old Jack Frost. Newly-arrived
from Croatoan. Midnight
brought you back to me when all
I saw in my future was a desert starting
somewhere inside. Jump good
gracious to the countertop.
Talented the dwarf is I'd prefer
you the giant you are holding
up the sky over me huge arms
around me & your auburn locks
do dangle down delicate 'pon
my dong. A dirty boy don't change
& can't do better one day
tho maybe. Take this Rebecca 'til then
your big mouth piece of cake
beautiful noises to banter my
mind with barter for those days
I'd never have forget it. Baby. You take
me in the bad times good
I'll take you any day undeniable
Sometime in the Gegenschein Your Name is Late Eternity
Intrepid chanteuse. The ballerina balances
even so she balances the sun
parting not the way I remember you.
Organ grinding drone the monkey pumping
hard against that open door. Ed Skoog
Tom Franklin & me eatin' chili cheese dogs
Wild Turkey misty Ripton night before the
fuck-up set me free to freak the true tribe.
Once upon a man a time pushed upon me
rightly zucchini feta pancakes. That man
was high the better one to ask the last
question I should've answered never did
Thomas Sayers Ellis. Enough name-check
let's go see a movie. My mind's'nough
make Sundance. What order
doesn't matter just that she
forevermore speaks of shadowy wood
ripe open seed-bee white dew drop.
I open the door. You been trying to stop
that kid from "Carouselambra" just let him
listen 'til he gets the movement
down into the Lite-Brite blizzard I clown
face fashioned. Could've walked
today to Mile 'Round still wondering
what happened to all my long ago gone.
Scuba-diving through your luxury box.
Hey hey hey hey. Wobble wipe the floor
with whoa. Don't tell me what it is to be
a woman. I got enough sense to know
the last thing I do's go there.
Let's take it back a step so I can
'splain myself to the lake monster
want you strapped behind me. Buenoes Aires
I adore thee. Protect me like a war criminal.
Natalie Portman won't never date you.
Steak love. Ouch. Not enough my mouth's
like a foot all the time high stepping
let's hit the mattress for keeps. Nowhere
I go watches TV any more I guess
that's good for all of us bad for Benson.
Volcano sacrifice. The appeal alluded me
'til miraculously my cock grew
cunt formed wholly by the magic
lava I bartered my entire collection of
M.A.S.K. & M.U.S.C.L.E.
for services I never dreamt rendering unto
myself. One Roman afternoon
you were there brighter than the rest
of the world only one other time
I'd seen this before. You through the door
both times space flipped its hip.
Dalmatian devotion I'm done.
for Emily Lundin
Michael Schiavo is the author of The Mad Song and is the designer and co-editor of the literary journal Tight. His poetry and nonfiction have appeared in The Yale Review, jubilat, Tin House, McSweeney's Internet Tendency, Forklift, Ohio, Seneca Review, Fou, The Raleigh Quarterly, and elsewhere. He lives in North Bennington, Vermont. You can find him online at michaelschiavo.blogspot.com. You can also find his book, The Mad Song, at www.northshire.com/siteinfo/bookinfo/9781605710150/0/ and the magazine, Tight, which he edits, at tightjournal.blogspot.com.