when hecate’s your nurse

when i was young and dumb and full of cum

i marched my own cadence, i beat my own drum

now i’m old and cold and not nearly as bold

and the pride of my soul has long since been sold

and the place where i kept it is covered with mold

i was, then i wasn’t, but will be again

as is the folly and fate and the future of men

they leap from a pussy full grown dressed in rags

they stagger with drink and swagger their brags

till toe-tagged and trepanned they curl up in black bags

my life is no different than those gone before

i saw mother’s face in the eyes of a whore

then wooed her and screwed her but left her no coin

for the course that she set from the day i was born

was a thrust and a fevre to return to her loins

you think me a loony, insane in the brain

for saying the things left unsaid by most men

but a swine in his silence eats at the same trough

and i am a poet and i’m from the south

where capote was famous for using his mouth

so dress me in garlands of garlic and sage

throw me in a hole at the end of my age

for dying is easy and living is worse

and a limo foreshadows the back of a hearse

and her cold tits are tasty when hecate’s your nurse

hey, cowboy, let me see your face

hey, cowboy, let me see your face

the scar where pain still lingers from a broken-necked beer bottle brawl

the teeth gone bad and yellowed like old paper

from the chew you cannot swallow

the whiskers like a patch of stiff,

dew frozen weed from too many early mornings

the ravenous etching of an ugly time drip down below your eyes

your eyes, hey cowboy, let me see your eyes

or are they set too deeply ‘neath the harrowing ridge

of your high wrinkled dusty forehead?

let me look into your eyes

and see the passage of dim whiskey settle down to aching joints

or the light that drained through your thick thighs

into the heavy, hairy well of a sweaty, wet-back chicano whore

you’re old, cowboy, old and dying near the grave

your broken fingernailed and cold split hands have dug

you’re old and what you were you never were

and what you never will be

you soon will never have the chance to be again

you’re old, cowboy, you’re old and you won’t open up your eyes

to let this imitation of an imitation

booted and jeaned young fool of a bastard

look back

and feel his father’s flesh

or hear his mother’s cry

succubus

with seeds of darkness flashing in her eyes

she came to me at night and soiled my dreams

i fought her, or at least, i thought i fought

but a wild, maniacal laughter

soon overtook my screams

and my lurching, grasping struggles

found me trapped between her thighs

and what i thought i ought not

turned to what my seeking sought

angel or witch, lover or bitch no matter which she came

i’d lie in my bed my head full of dread

masking a heart spiced with coal black desire

my soul to restore from this demon whore

            fresh from sulfurous pits of fire

terror surged up my spine, phlegm clotted my throat

            my blanket rose

like a cock on a vane

i had drank much sedation to still my trepidation

but medication was always a waste

my eyes yearned to be closed

while the fires embers glowed

but toothpicks held open my lids

my mouth muttered and stuttered prayers best left

unuttered:  a glossaliac gurgle,

a growl and a grumble

            one last tear as i try to repent...                

...and then with a cry i was spent