Charles Malcolm

I am ready
to make a peace sign
and spread my wounds
for you.
...

The only way to make sparks fly
is to slam yourself against the guardrail.
You may hurt yourself and others in the process,
but they won't mind.
...

Not like honey or sugar.
Not like a lie.
A true nectar.
Like sweet soap or bitter fruit
...

Tiny
twirling avocado
that snores
and cackles
...

I used to love nothing
more than wrapping chains
around a butterfly.
...

I killed myself when I was least expecting it.
Suicide by miss placed hope.
I ripped my shirt open
and pointed to the spot.
...

The red light
has stopped winking at me
through the windshield.
Must be dead.
...

I spend the little money
that I have
on women
that i don't
...

She feasted on my heart
in the back of a yellow cab,
stopping
only to gaze at me
...

The sign
on first avenue said,
'Pain is Not a Lifestyle.'
I walk'd past it,
...

The radiators were hissing,
and the fresh tallboy
felt like throbbing frostbite in my hand
as I broke down
...

Why read mysteries.
Women have spines too.
Lengthy forewords.
Brief,
...

A Native American stumblebum told me a dirty
joke in the bus tunnel.
I laughed even though I knew the punchline.
'Beef stroganoff.'
...

I take taxicabs
further north than I usually go
alone
...

Every gal
gets a poem.

I like some
...

I am fine
with this blood
but will not tuck fading photographs
of my aging face
...

It's just right.

That my lovers hate me.
Avocados on sale.
...

You're bad wallpaper.

Something to stare at
with four eyes
...

I'm ready
now
to leave off the heat
close the bedroom door
...

Bummed or borrowed
or sometimes bought
but always used
and flicked
...