Two Poemss

Cash

Give me Arcadian milk,
Bleakly delirious throes,
Persian tobacco & rose—
Water, prosciutto & silk,

Cardamom, berries & sweat,
And those perfumes that unfurl
From the coiffure of a girl
Learning to be a coquette.

Flowers all fall from the bough.
Listen, my seraphs: the gloom
Deepens. Release the Khartoum
Wolfhounds of Flattery now.

Give me dark, fathomless wood,
Harpsichords, shisha & steak.
Cash is the home that you take
With you. And Home is a Good.

My Mother Wanted As Many Children As Possible

The question of why she’d pick him as her
Collaborator in this undertaking
Remains absurdly unanswerable
To me, and also to her—to her, because
She doesn’t go in for intelligent
Introspection, and to me, because I do.