foreplay

new years' resolution: FOCUS!

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**you don’t hafta be alphabetical to be noticed but it might help**

usually
Thursday mornings
I go
to the local b&n
bookstore it’s
peaceful and
people read their fav
authors
the morning newspaper and
they sip starbuck
sludge from foam’d logo’d
cups

I go to the racks
along the poetry aisle and
there’s nothing different
except maybe
a(n) (new) employee who
hasn’t learned the basics
of arrangement and
alphabetical order:

poor
poor Emily Dickenson
is squished between Daisey Zamora and
Ulanooooonanoonaaava (?)
Alan Ginsburg and wm blake are mixed-up with
Michelangelo and Romeo and Juliet and
Michelangelo and Romeo and Juliet's with
“Always a Reckoning” by
Jimmy Carter Jimmy Carter who
I mistook all these years as
the peanut pop

brautigan buffet bukowski burroughs
are next
to the major works
of Lord Byron and
then there’s
Catullus Anton Chekhov and Creely they
might be
close…

I have never read the works
of Maya Angelou
over in the ‘A’s I
hear she’s big in
several aspects one
of them literary
blah she owns
the entire middle shelf and
then some and I pick
any book out-out of curiosity and open to
any page
any poem:

“Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery……"etc-Maya Angelou

well well well
enough
may-O-naisse
for
moi! there is no doubt
in my mind she
would
fuck-up a good
wet
dream and
I stuck her next to Shakespeare
for Dummies

Christ God (and
the poet) know
the poet
yearns not for a million but
for a little
recognition tribute or
at least the ease of a full
bowl before death from
allthis and who
the hell is Billy Collins in section
C
?

I dig into my backpack pull
my 4 little chapbooks
drop one on an empty
couch for anyone to discover and
over in
“healing and sexuality” I
place one next to the pocket-
book of Kama Sutra and the rest I
slide in front of
Billy (whoeverthefuckheis) Collins even
tho
c comes after
B

©cait collins 2001



---

**fresh meat**

at times I
am a megaphone
mouth
right now I want you
to hear
bad
words obscene
declining terms
normally noticed
early morn
on HBO with
the volume sky
high lights
low or
maybe like
those wicked vicious
versings
the local
yoyo
taverners’
drink I drink
words worst
than
those tho those
gag
on the other
side
of my mouth
right about now
I get this
way
when you
lie like a sack of shit staring straight
into
my eyes her eyes
drool at allthis but
as soon as
you remove your
fist
from all over my face
I will have
the opportunity
to scream
bloody murder -
almost
and
o
by the way
would you could you
be so kind
(as you are to her)
to perhaps
pass
a slab
of thick sirloin
when you’re
through?

---

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     BiYO! this is my nude shot - underneath the clothes - first hand, I'm anywhere near Philadelphia or sometimes lurkin around L.A., in the valley, or in Florida, in the boondocks... or,or,or or with people or without people. there's people - everywhere or somewhere - and sometimes anywhere and then sometimes not nowhere but I carry a cell phone, just in case, with an unlisted # and a list of #'s that aren't listed - in my backpack along with stuffed socks, candles stuffed with the same things the socks are stuffed with and I have smoldering incense sticks and a spray can of neon green instant grafitti but besides that, I can call myself stuff like editor/publisher/columnist/webmistress of the this hold e-zine, or maybe a webDziner or I can act like a poet or I can call myself, as long as mute is disabled.
     some say my poetry and other stuff I write is unlike others. I say rumors rumors rumors and rumor has it, many are grateful for allthat but someday somewhere somehow when someone is least expecting, somethings might be understood...my stuff has appeared here (doh) in  the HOLD, Thunder Sandwich,  PoetikLicense and Poetry Central and under insulated foam rocks. for some odd reason, it all fits in.
o.k. blah blah blah....fuck you...