Alevera Throwaway Lines

pretty face
stupid man
smart once
brains gone

New York
loves shamrocks
Furtive looks
shame hard knocks
She tells me
to move
I jump,
how high
She has me
in the palm
Of her hands,
fortunes read
Like
psychic bombs

Eating green mango strips
in Decembertime chill,
scrunching her pretty face
in sour buds kill.
Wind blows her hair.
She pulls a band from her wrist
to tie her tresses.
Her dimple sinks.
I die again.

Twice

(For Gift)

Bitten, my loves, bit,
ate their hearts
Out, over a jewel they are not: cannot be, have.
Had felt it just twice in six.
Years go by like
so many sweet spells.
Sour fuels, nervous energy
keep me running.
I stumble & don’t notice,
too late, too deep, the wound –
Smiles & bleeds.
I fight & get worse.
I hurt & curse. We fight.
Have I fought enough for peace, for friends, for trust, for tranquility?
For complacence, I don’t do anything.
The feeling runs its own course.
One does not notice until it’s beside you.
Neck to neck, heart to heart.
You can’t keep hungry hearts apart.
Born to run, afire from the start.
Corny is just another word
For love’s the truth.
Told her.
Went for broke.
Nothing & all.
Wasted.
Was that all there was to it?
Get close, then get lost?
Spilt, nothing saved.
The floor’s still cold.
Warm, as long as the sun stays.
It will go away, for sure.
One got away in silence,
three years stretched.
One about to,
Go away. Away, yeah, away.
Scat!
Twice bitten, I died. I die. I keep on dying.
Damn death deadbeat heart hurts.

Pain in the grace of God

I don't need no enlightened one
to tell me
that everyone suffers,
everyone dies.
What I want to know
is the why, the for how long.
The questions and sensations abate
after realization -- there is a point
to everything over and under the sun.
In a state of grace,
it hurts,
it's exquisite,
it's pain in the grace of God.