_ VII. A GAY LOVE STORY
Poems by Tom Miller
I LOVE YOU
what if
‘i love you’
was some genetic
sound thing
evolved over ages
that even lizards could understand?
I said it to my cat
and a spider
they both looked up at me
and took pause
‘yes, go on,’
they seemed to say
‘i love you,’
I said again
the cat purred
the spider waved its arms
and the lizard
ate a fly
POEM OF THE MINUTE
it is 8:25pm
this is the poem of the minute
things which have changed the world
have happened in less time
it is now 8:26pm
THE MAGIC TRICK
i can’t win you back with words
if I even was yours
and i know i can’t
no matter how many poems
how hard i try, what words i
use, or combinations i find
i’ve lost
cut off, cut away--
cut in half
i’ve always wanted to write
the one that would save the world
words that would move people
words that could fight and die
for love
but here in this bar
i see couples kiss and i know
they will all think the same as me
in the end
sadness fills my body
it’s a lie, it will always be
a lie
they look exactly like me
before you disappeared
you’re a rabbit is what you are
a rabbit, water in a glass,
a flower, and a bird
a cane, and a wand,
and a candle
everything that disappears
but i can’t write you back
not even the greatest poem in the world
could do it
i’m overhearing a conversation
a college student is bragging how he cheated
on his exams
he is so proudly saying it
he is offering advice
his diploma hangs on the wall
people will believe what it says
he will reap rewards and sow seeds
it will be something like love
and also something like never
being able to write a poem
good enough...
good enough...
but he will vanish too
in the ultimate magic trick
the one that has us all fooled
the one we can never kiss
the magic trick whose secret
is so easy to find
on the internet, in a book,
a bar, a soup recipe, TV
so i’m drunk
and what difference does it make?
it was fake, it was always fake
a lady sawed in half
there was plenty of faux blood
and a good time was had by all
but it wasn’t a good enough poem
the lights came up and you were gone
PROJECT r INTRUDES
You want to play a game of Chess. But as the game has been played by many before you, perhaps a piece is missing. There is no queen. Instead, there is a thimble. You and your opponent agree, the thimble will be the queen. It will follow her rules. The other pieces will regard her as the queen. It is a thimble and it is the queen. On the board, between you and your opponent, it is simply the queen. It is no longer a thimble.
When the game is done, the thimble will figure prominently. She will have overrun pawns, knights, bishops, and castles. In the end, the thimble will corner the king and bring him down. Was it the queen when he saw it coming, or was it the thimble he thought it was?
Too late, he has lost.
Never play Chess with Tic Tac Toe players.
Please continue...
I WOULD HAVE MADE OUT WITH ORSON WELLES
i would have watched his magic tricks
if i knew the secret, i wouldn’t have confessed
i don’t care how fat he got, or whether or not
the wine was before its time
i would have kissed him
tongue and all
if for no better reason,
War of the Worlds!
if you can fool that many people
and have them all running scared
then you understand the power and the terror of love
that is what i want to taste from your lips,
Orson.
THE WEIRD BUG POEM
i write this poem
for the weird bug
i don’t know what it is
i don’t know if it bites
what do i know?
it frightens me
this bug comes in its own pocket
peeks out, red worm eyeball
creepy creepy
carrying its little sock body
that seems to be made
from fabric collected over
a long journey across the floor
does it turn into another bug?
does it bite? does it carry a message?
i don’t know how to kill it
or whether, or why i should
it’s a weird bug is what it is
it’s a weird bug poem
i write this poem
for the weird bug
i don’t know what it is
i don’t know if it bites
isn’t that what poetry is all about?
GOD SHIT THE SUN
my fingers rest upon the keys
anything can happen in this moment
perhaps a poem of possibility
any direction-- the drink will tell it
there is a large bottle
wine? poison?
i don’t know what it is
i am thinking about drinking it
the ink runs out
but it’s a re-do
we are back to the beginning
how black it is
shit is good
and God shit the sun
remember this
when you are sleeping in your bed
i fill my glass
and stare into the light
ON BEING A PAINTING
you have color and shape
which defines you as an idea
they look upon you
see your messy room
one thought, to clean it
another, to abandon it
but it requires care
that’s where you are
you squirt, rub, brush
yellow, pink, purple gobs of paint
it looks like a dream i had
and you were in it
i looked like you were
like this painting
only written as words
instead of a messy room
i keep looking at
or reading it
and i think i see you in there
but there is only copper
and i wonder,
what is copper?
BOONE’S FARM
one time, my high school buddies, and I, drank so much boone’s farm wine, that we destroyed the entire golf course behind my house. the stand where the water fountain and the ball cleaner is, four posts, a roof, a bit of shade, let’s knock that motherfucker down!
we pushed this way and that, and the posts gave out. the whole thing; vanquished by drunk teen assholes. and then, we went to the green with a pick axe, and carved a tic tac toe into the moist soft grass. we made our Xs and Os out of upside down empty bottles of boone’s farm jammed into the dirt. i don’t know who won, but that game was highly regarded the next morning by somebody-- i’m absolutely sure of it.
sorry, but i only liked the golf course when i was getting hurt, running scared, or when i could make it my adventure, which had nothing to do with golf. it had only to do with boone’s farm, youth, and destroying everything the rich covet with their dirty balls.
I’M CONFUSED BY BOONE’S FARM
the label reads:
boone’s farm – american original
then it says, ‘sangria flavored grape wine’
the more i drink of it, the more i realize
that label don’t know what it am talking about
a grape wine flavored as sangria
can not be an american original
if sangria is from spain!
and on the re-think, maybe
that’s just what makes it an american original:
the lie.
THE HORROR OF THE LITTLE RASCLES
the horrible abuse,
cabbages, and hard apples
thrown at alfalfa,
jesus Christ, his parents named him, alfalfa
the wart-girl, darla, the beloved
starlet of all the boys, even
the fat doughboy, spanky.
jesus Christ, his parents named him, spanky
the negro boy
wide-eyed heidi-ho boy
what a clump of tussled
afro-nest on that poor kid’s head
jesus Christ, his parents named him, Buckwheat
and all I smell is pee and diarrhea!
alfalfa singing, ‘Barber of Seville’
in a dream sequence
I can hear the movie director,
“THROW FRUIT IN HIS FACE!
THROW THE UNRIPE MANGOS,
THROW THE PAIN FRUIT!”
and alfalfa really did look pained
i don’t think he was acting
looked to me like he was crying for real
his face shamed silent with purple ugly fruit
jesus Christ, his parents named him, Froggy
jesus Christ, his parents named him, Stymie
jesus Christ, his parents named him, Wheezer
jesus Christ, they’re all dead! they’re all dead!
TWO STRANGERS PASS
drunk, down a street, any street
I touch your body – electricity – earthy
a familiar smell
we pass and
you here – now – touch – pass
we pass along
me this way, you that
we pass along whatever we had
or thought we had
we pass like
what the bird thought it understood
before crashing into glass
THE RULES OF LOVE
Love is the most important thing in the world,
But there are some rules to abide by to properly love.
1. Don’t make love with your friends.
Friends are for friendship.
Lovers should be people you can easily get rid of.
2. Don’t say, ‘I love you’.
It will ruin everything.
Instead say, ‘Would you like to fuck?’
3. When making love to your lover,
Be sure to never tell them who you were
Imagining them to be when you’re having an orgasm.
4. Try to flirt with other people,
Only when your lover isn’t watching.
5. When you cheat, try to keep it a secret,
So your lover won’t dump you.
You don’t want to lose that free money.
6. Make sure you only steal things your lover might not miss.
Don’t take all the bills in the purse, just take a few.
This works better when your lover comes home drunk.
7. Always make eye contact when you lie,
And don’t blink too much.
Sell the lie.
8. If things become so routine that you plan on getting married,
Make sure you buy a ring that looks expensive but really isn’t.
A used ring is best, or perhaps a ring stolen from your last lover.
9. Don’t masturbate when your lover is around.
You don’t want your lover to know you need to get off without them,
Sometimes... Lots of times...
10. Remember the golden rule of love:
What’s important is what people believe.
Not the truth.
UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECT
these little things bother me
for example, the fact that
what is happening happens differently
than how it did
if a butterfly goes by and you see
a bird instead, who’s to say what it really was?
maybe when you saw it, it became a bird
i’m pretty sure it was a butterfly but i
didn’t look so carefully. it might have been
a cricket. did anyone see a cricket?
another little thing that bothers me
when you tell me you’ll be there if you can make it
that leaves ambiguity and if you don’t show up
i can’t complain because you obviously couldn’t make it
if you did show up, then you made it. either way
you win. i think it was a butterfly
at least when i was looking at it. maybe it was
everything we all saw, a bird, and a cricket too
another little thing that bothers me
when i want to meet someone. if our eyes lock i
look away. it’s my shyness. i’m thinking the
other person will notice my shyness and come
over to talk to me. what actually happens is they
see me, turn away, and figure i don’t like them.
that’s the total opposite of how i feel. there’s
no way it was a cricket. no fucking way.
or when i feel good but i just don’t show it on my face
somebody passes and says, “smile,” which makes me angry
sometimes i don’t smile when i feel good
sometimes i smile when i’m sad
do you know how lonely it is knowing
you’ll never see anything exactly the way someone else does?
how lonely it is that what you thought was love
might just not be love? it might be a UFO.
that what is happening happens differently
than how it did?
how did it happen?
something flew by.
i don’t know what it was.
Poems by Tom Miller
I LOVE YOU
what if
‘i love you’
was some genetic
sound thing
evolved over ages
that even lizards could understand?
I said it to my cat
and a spider
they both looked up at me
and took pause
‘yes, go on,’
they seemed to say
‘i love you,’
I said again
the cat purred
the spider waved its arms
and the lizard
ate a fly
POEM OF THE MINUTE
it is 8:25pm
this is the poem of the minute
things which have changed the world
have happened in less time
it is now 8:26pm
THE MAGIC TRICK
i can’t win you back with words
if I even was yours
and i know i can’t
no matter how many poems
how hard i try, what words i
use, or combinations i find
i’ve lost
cut off, cut away--
cut in half
i’ve always wanted to write
the one that would save the world
words that would move people
words that could fight and die
for love
but here in this bar
i see couples kiss and i know
they will all think the same as me
in the end
sadness fills my body
it’s a lie, it will always be
a lie
they look exactly like me
before you disappeared
you’re a rabbit is what you are
a rabbit, water in a glass,
a flower, and a bird
a cane, and a wand,
and a candle
everything that disappears
but i can’t write you back
not even the greatest poem in the world
could do it
i’m overhearing a conversation
a college student is bragging how he cheated
on his exams
he is so proudly saying it
he is offering advice
his diploma hangs on the wall
people will believe what it says
he will reap rewards and sow seeds
it will be something like love
and also something like never
being able to write a poem
good enough...
good enough...
but he will vanish too
in the ultimate magic trick
the one that has us all fooled
the one we can never kiss
the magic trick whose secret
is so easy to find
on the internet, in a book,
a bar, a soup recipe, TV
so i’m drunk
and what difference does it make?
it was fake, it was always fake
a lady sawed in half
there was plenty of faux blood
and a good time was had by all
but it wasn’t a good enough poem
the lights came up and you were gone
PROJECT r INTRUDES
You want to play a game of Chess. But as the game has been played by many before you, perhaps a piece is missing. There is no queen. Instead, there is a thimble. You and your opponent agree, the thimble will be the queen. It will follow her rules. The other pieces will regard her as the queen. It is a thimble and it is the queen. On the board, between you and your opponent, it is simply the queen. It is no longer a thimble.
When the game is done, the thimble will figure prominently. She will have overrun pawns, knights, bishops, and castles. In the end, the thimble will corner the king and bring him down. Was it the queen when he saw it coming, or was it the thimble he thought it was?
Too late, he has lost.
Never play Chess with Tic Tac Toe players.
Please continue...
I WOULD HAVE MADE OUT WITH ORSON WELLES
i would have watched his magic tricks
if i knew the secret, i wouldn’t have confessed
i don’t care how fat he got, or whether or not
the wine was before its time
i would have kissed him
tongue and all
if for no better reason,
War of the Worlds!
if you can fool that many people
and have them all running scared
then you understand the power and the terror of love
that is what i want to taste from your lips,
Orson.
THE WEIRD BUG POEM
i write this poem
for the weird bug
i don’t know what it is
i don’t know if it bites
what do i know?
it frightens me
this bug comes in its own pocket
peeks out, red worm eyeball
creepy creepy
carrying its little sock body
that seems to be made
from fabric collected over
a long journey across the floor
does it turn into another bug?
does it bite? does it carry a message?
i don’t know how to kill it
or whether, or why i should
it’s a weird bug is what it is
it’s a weird bug poem
i write this poem
for the weird bug
i don’t know what it is
i don’t know if it bites
isn’t that what poetry is all about?
GOD SHIT THE SUN
my fingers rest upon the keys
anything can happen in this moment
perhaps a poem of possibility
any direction-- the drink will tell it
there is a large bottle
wine? poison?
i don’t know what it is
i am thinking about drinking it
the ink runs out
but it’s a re-do
we are back to the beginning
how black it is
shit is good
and God shit the sun
remember this
when you are sleeping in your bed
i fill my glass
and stare into the light
ON BEING A PAINTING
you have color and shape
which defines you as an idea
they look upon you
see your messy room
one thought, to clean it
another, to abandon it
but it requires care
that’s where you are
you squirt, rub, brush
yellow, pink, purple gobs of paint
it looks like a dream i had
and you were in it
i looked like you were
like this painting
only written as words
instead of a messy room
i keep looking at
or reading it
and i think i see you in there
but there is only copper
and i wonder,
what is copper?
BOONE’S FARM
one time, my high school buddies, and I, drank so much boone’s farm wine, that we destroyed the entire golf course behind my house. the stand where the water fountain and the ball cleaner is, four posts, a roof, a bit of shade, let’s knock that motherfucker down!
we pushed this way and that, and the posts gave out. the whole thing; vanquished by drunk teen assholes. and then, we went to the green with a pick axe, and carved a tic tac toe into the moist soft grass. we made our Xs and Os out of upside down empty bottles of boone’s farm jammed into the dirt. i don’t know who won, but that game was highly regarded the next morning by somebody-- i’m absolutely sure of it.
sorry, but i only liked the golf course when i was getting hurt, running scared, or when i could make it my adventure, which had nothing to do with golf. it had only to do with boone’s farm, youth, and destroying everything the rich covet with their dirty balls.
I’M CONFUSED BY BOONE’S FARM
the label reads:
boone’s farm – american original
then it says, ‘sangria flavored grape wine’
the more i drink of it, the more i realize
that label don’t know what it am talking about
a grape wine flavored as sangria
can not be an american original
if sangria is from spain!
and on the re-think, maybe
that’s just what makes it an american original:
the lie.
THE HORROR OF THE LITTLE RASCLES
the horrible abuse,
cabbages, and hard apples
thrown at alfalfa,
jesus Christ, his parents named him, alfalfa
the wart-girl, darla, the beloved
starlet of all the boys, even
the fat doughboy, spanky.
jesus Christ, his parents named him, spanky
the negro boy
wide-eyed heidi-ho boy
what a clump of tussled
afro-nest on that poor kid’s head
jesus Christ, his parents named him, Buckwheat
and all I smell is pee and diarrhea!
alfalfa singing, ‘Barber of Seville’
in a dream sequence
I can hear the movie director,
“THROW FRUIT IN HIS FACE!
THROW THE UNRIPE MANGOS,
THROW THE PAIN FRUIT!”
and alfalfa really did look pained
i don’t think he was acting
looked to me like he was crying for real
his face shamed silent with purple ugly fruit
jesus Christ, his parents named him, Froggy
jesus Christ, his parents named him, Stymie
jesus Christ, his parents named him, Wheezer
jesus Christ, they’re all dead! they’re all dead!
TWO STRANGERS PASS
drunk, down a street, any street
I touch your body – electricity – earthy
a familiar smell
we pass and
you here – now – touch – pass
we pass along
me this way, you that
we pass along whatever we had
or thought we had
we pass like
what the bird thought it understood
before crashing into glass
THE RULES OF LOVE
Love is the most important thing in the world,
But there are some rules to abide by to properly love.
1. Don’t make love with your friends.
Friends are for friendship.
Lovers should be people you can easily get rid of.
2. Don’t say, ‘I love you’.
It will ruin everything.
Instead say, ‘Would you like to fuck?’
3. When making love to your lover,
Be sure to never tell them who you were
Imagining them to be when you’re having an orgasm.
4. Try to flirt with other people,
Only when your lover isn’t watching.
5. When you cheat, try to keep it a secret,
So your lover won’t dump you.
You don’t want to lose that free money.
6. Make sure you only steal things your lover might not miss.
Don’t take all the bills in the purse, just take a few.
This works better when your lover comes home drunk.
7. Always make eye contact when you lie,
And don’t blink too much.
Sell the lie.
8. If things become so routine that you plan on getting married,
Make sure you buy a ring that looks expensive but really isn’t.
A used ring is best, or perhaps a ring stolen from your last lover.
9. Don’t masturbate when your lover is around.
You don’t want your lover to know you need to get off without them,
Sometimes... Lots of times...
10. Remember the golden rule of love:
What’s important is what people believe.
Not the truth.
UNIDENTIFIED FLYING OBJECT
these little things bother me
for example, the fact that
what is happening happens differently
than how it did
if a butterfly goes by and you see
a bird instead, who’s to say what it really was?
maybe when you saw it, it became a bird
i’m pretty sure it was a butterfly but i
didn’t look so carefully. it might have been
a cricket. did anyone see a cricket?
another little thing that bothers me
when you tell me you’ll be there if you can make it
that leaves ambiguity and if you don’t show up
i can’t complain because you obviously couldn’t make it
if you did show up, then you made it. either way
you win. i think it was a butterfly
at least when i was looking at it. maybe it was
everything we all saw, a bird, and a cricket too
another little thing that bothers me
when i want to meet someone. if our eyes lock i
look away. it’s my shyness. i’m thinking the
other person will notice my shyness and come
over to talk to me. what actually happens is they
see me, turn away, and figure i don’t like them.
that’s the total opposite of how i feel. there’s
no way it was a cricket. no fucking way.
or when i feel good but i just don’t show it on my face
somebody passes and says, “smile,” which makes me angry
sometimes i don’t smile when i feel good
sometimes i smile when i’m sad
do you know how lonely it is knowing
you’ll never see anything exactly the way someone else does?
how lonely it is that what you thought was love
might just not be love? it might be a UFO.
that what is happening happens differently
than how it did?
how did it happen?
something flew by.
i don’t know what it was.