You arrive like a giant disaster,
a made-for-t.v. movie that keeps us up all night.
You are as hot as a seventh grade fire drill!
Our sex is like a private sun-filled cafeteria
with no one else allowed.
We fall into the bed like Miss America
tripping on the stairs in the pageant.
We fall into the bed and all the bed entails.
The bed has entrails.
We scoop out the guts of the bed and
make them into a sculpture of language.
You and I are in a mountain filled landscape ,
a whole new planet where no one else goes.
The spaceships are made out of your hands.
We come from a place where it always rains.
It is raining there right now; it is raining there
The Schedule of Love
Like learning all the lyrics to a song for a boy
I memorize the schedule of love.
What I told you is not true:
that love conquers time, that he
will wait for you, that if it is right it will work out.
Thats all bullshit! If you miss your chance in that
first week of spontaneous writing, the Jack Kerouackian
moment of boundless joy --
Well then you are lost forever,
like a virginity.
Love Poem (Yogurt)
The words are in the valley.
The yogurt is in my heart.
You never come in the library and cry for things to start.
You are in my shower.
Your mouth is open wide.
When I told Jacob I loved him I lied.
The kiss is in the oven.
I am in your feet.
Whistle in my window and Ill get you food to eat.
Love is in the movies.
Real as in your tears.
When we walked in the grass the sky was full of mirrors.
The mirrors are in the movies
and the tears are in the glass
of eighty thousand boys
with hair and face like yours
theyre all you, you are the buddha, you are the choir
If you've any comments on her poems, Jessy Randall will be
pleased to hear from you.