(The poem Millennium was nominated for a Pushcart prize in 2006. )
STAND STILL
These are the blue sky days.
These are the blue sky postcard days.
These are the blue sky postcard construction site days.
These are the blue sky postcard construction site orange cone days.
These are the blue sky postcard construction site orange cone
Brooks Pharmacy SUVs I�m not driving days.
These are the Brooks Pharmacy SUVs I�m not driving Iraq war I�m not fighting in days.
These are the American Idol days.
These are the American Idol pharmaceuticals we�re swallowing
to feel better days.
These are the pill swallowing Genome project sign days.
These are the zebra fish stem cell research days of better pills.
These are the better pill days for American Idols.
These are the zebra fish.
MILLENNIUM
You walk in and it�s just like the millennium.
In my dream he said. So far away in life.
Married now he�s dusted off the bits of our romantic strife.
But as sure as I�m still reeling, as the snow is white.
New York�s drifts are lousy grey and the millennium�s my wife.
To a cold room you�d visit me all crucified. Make me come you�d sigh.
Closing your eyes. The Magdalene would open up her thighs.
His blackouts were my wine. As long as I stay sober,
The rain may clear my sight. Babylon is my redemption
And the millennium�s my wife.
A straight girl once I saw my father fade and die.
My great God was dead. Not like Nietzsche meant.
In our strange love he rose up from the deep,
Where he and I would meet. And as long as I�m still haunted,
As the ghosts are rife � we know that bridges burn us
And the millennium�s my wife.
Lolita has her melodrama you would scoff.
She sobs to get off. Humbert Humbert�s hot.
In your suburban house I couldn�t breathe.
The middle class does bleed. As long as I�m still running
It cuts me like a knife. Here�s to your second coming.
The millennium�s my wife.
To a hotel of achievement we had come to get our wings.
I learned how to drown. It taught me many things.
I still dive for faces in the waves. Trophies of us lost,
And trophies of us saved. And though it left us stranded,
We both used dark for flight. In dream, I may have landed,
The millennium�s my wife.
A spring like this I guess it was some years ago.
There were no tulips, but a pale volcanic snow.
We�d made it through the gauntlet and our hearts were stuck below.
But as the castle marked us, and as the day was night,
In Oz I�m ressurecting, and the millennium, the millennium,
The millennium�s my wife.
Lo Galluccio
1993, New York City
VIRTUE'S TONGUE
You left me filled with kisses. I do not cry and that is good.
A dry face shines in other directions. Leaves its ghost under the hood.
Bright corn and lentil soup is the feast of a Pilgrim's heat.
Puritans love in the glow of shame. Love in threes to give it a name.
You two form the pyramids base and I am the point you raise.
Winter's shy, suffusing smoke before she banks her blaze.
When ice thaws in December pleasure turns whole in the rain.
Evil, perhaps, is formless, a fragment. But a mythical drain.
Virtue stanches the thirst of drowning; it is fierce and warm.
As my hands are hushed in your arm's pit, as my chills that way swarm.
The spirit waltzes its tango. The heart pounds in every mask.
Desire burns to ashes of wisdom. That is passion's task.
We who have been cold and blind convert to sighs and grace.
Our ashes, like tiny grey birds, flown from place to place.
Lick me hard with your fluttering tongue, make my beauty rise.
That is the way of cats, the fire in glittering green eyes.
Lo Galluccio, Published in Hot Rain, 2004 by Ibbetson St. Press
Look for more poetry from Lo in February 2007 at www.strangeroad.com