Full Sun Garden

Quills – a poem (in process)

fullsun — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 21:25:05 +0000

The day we discovered prickly
grass next to the three pine trees,
we walked back and forth across it for hours
quacking that the soft grass
was much better. But we loved the surprise
of stiff brown stalks stabbing
like porcupine quills
at our tender feet.

When I was sixteen, I skipped school
in September. I climbed the bridge
on the road to Avalon.
The sun had begun to set
behind me when I jumped.

Later, at a party, I told it to a girl I loved
who let me put my hand down her pants and bit me
at the end of each soft-lipped kiss.

Jackhammer – a poem (in process)

fullsun — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 19:28:17 +0000

He thinks the asphalt boils
a hard and fragmenting birth
like skin bursting under machine-gun fire.

He might have been a soldier,
they say for glory, blessed
or magnified.

His body trembles sometimes
at night and sweats while he sleeps.
He works hard,

his wife confides,
but he tears at my skin
when we’re alone. She exposes

his marks on her arms and chest -
shame and pride approved
by her mother’s round and quilted gasps.

Long Gallows – a poem (in process)

fullsun — Wed, 18 May 2011 14:16:01 +0000

A shallow breath,
just enough wind to lift
the drowsy howls and skirts,

the fits of winter cough
and browning embers’ glow,
not even that

gets past the fallow
faced first
without a punishing debt

the eager heart owes.
These are the liars, charged,
caught in the dark or on the run.

Even the old are callow performers
of ritual vice, would be gluttons
trading feast for taste.

But the first is a beast that rides
on their backs when they rise
from the dream and look

west, always
preserving the East as a home
and the long gallows of dawn.

Dying for Another II – a poem

fullsun — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 12:44:46 +0000

(This is an example of how changing just two little letters has the power to alter the entire sense and meaning of a poem. Scroll down the page or click here to find the original “Dying for Another.”)

She hides behind a pillow
away from prying eyes
“Why are eyes always prying?”
she laughs.

Her laughter crackles torrential
like cedar in a flame
dying for another.

Monika’s Shell – a photograph

fullsun — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 15:09:30 +0000

Prints and greeting cards of “Monika’s Shell” can be purchased by clicking Here.

Poet’s Confession #6 – a poem (in process)

fullsun — Thu, 30 Sep 2010 17:30:07 +0000

Because I feared
the ability might be lost
to find meaning in empty spaces,

sincere and diligent
I, the coward,
tried to fill the holes in every one

of these poems.
Every metaphor explained.
Every simile interpolated, then extrapolated.

Every mystery unwound, unbound,
solved.
Only empty space now, without meaning.

The Fox and the Crow Revisited (Sadomasochism in New York City)

fullsun — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 15:57:12 +0000

Forgive my musical clumsiness.

The Fox and the Crow Revisited (Sadomasochism in New York City) – a song

fullsun — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 14:37:15 +0000

His stock is up, your stock is down
down in the Bowery, prowling around
for some masochist who’ll let him take what he needs
expensive food, expensive wine
a painted lady and vacant eyes
that’s the trap he sets for your loneliness and greed.

I’m not saying it was all your fault
but you shouldn’t wave back if you don’t want to fall off

Sela, listen to me
leave that sadomasochism in New York City

Two Russian women in my dressing room
ivory skin and breasts like the moon
I never even heard them say their names.
Skipped my dinner reservations with a fallen queen
prayed for salvation on my hands and knees
but the bible and the sceptre never feel the same.

Take what you want, I already know I lost
loving you has come at such a high cost

Sela, listen to me
Leave that sadomasochism in New York City

You used to think you were real hot shit
now you’re burning in that fire pit
all the diamonds in your hands were just vanity.
Losing ground and losing faith
fading fast at the end of the day
waved your heart at a one armed lover in a tree.

I’m not saying it was all your fault
he shouldn’t wave back if he doesn’t want to fall off

Sela, listen to me
leave that sadomasochism in New York City

Marilyn

fullsun — Sat, 19 Jun 2010 14:16:16 +0000

This is my first attempt at recording one of my songs (thank you Garageband).

Marilyn – a song

fullsun — Sat, 19 Jun 2010 14:15:10 +0000

The sidewalk’s happy to kiss your feet.
Barstools are fighting to be your seat.
There’s a window pane that loves to watch you walk away.
And the wind caresses your tongue with every word you say.

This little town shakes with your hips.
And the neon lights are jealous of your lips.
And all the men are trying to survive your eyes
long enough to lay between your thighs.

Acrobats are flying through the air
salty in their Summer underwear.
The bees all swarm around you like dogs in heat
all because your petals look so sweet.

Yesterday was a different kind of scene,
perfect and innocent and clean,
but today you’re on the cover of some gossip magazine
and everybody says you’re a bit obscene.