My Mother is Marilyn Monroe

The boy I am in 1969 laughed simply
about the sun whereas all the trees
bare of sexy parts where shunned
by murder, while I waded in the muck
tired of the back-door sun, so help me
God. So Help me dear titty God.

Yes, I love to lie about peace and death
where the house of incest, dear Anais
lets no one rule but the hands of self
or the broken sky and its lumbering stalks
of lightning and jewels wrestling rain
from the dry desert, sucking sweet
belly of mother from the organ grinders.

 

2.
In 1961, I met Marilyn and Joe at the House
that Ruth built. We sucked candy, smiled,
and I imagined her breasts
wearing that simple white shirt, raincoat
that pushed at buttons. Two photographers
were present, and MM lit about under
their stare, but when they were done,
she sat me down, sucked Life Savers,
playing with my hands, holding them,
opening her mouth to show me perfect lips,
teeth,  and yes, when she was colder,
as it was April she quickly pulled
sweatshirt on to bury them, reveal nipples
that would not disappear. She giggled
watching my eyes and took my hand
to warm it on her breasts. Oh that is
too cold, will not do, but she warmed
it and played with my mouth.

I did not do that on purpose,
my dirty boy, but I love your
smile and suck some candy
while Joe laughed with Yogi.
holding court, MM watched
from the corner of her eye
that other boy Mickey, He
stared at us both
wondering my connection.

"I screamed silently."
My mother is Marilyn Monroe;
so there Mickey there, there.

 

3.
My other mother, Daisy,
lived on the side of the road
spread her legs waited for
cocks to sprout and cheese
to roam from lips of pussy
willows, vines my father beat
in her eyes with military belt.

Have you ever looked at eyes
Of pain? Have you noticed how
they curl up glazed, and when dead
we are clouds that nothing passes
until space and time as sharp knifes
and dangerous ridges of broken
down heaven on bottom land
umber where blood soil my father grew
until dicks made sweat more easily
amid flowers cut out of rubbers broken,
fragmented like grenades split asunder,--
my mother of mercy screamed at skin
pushed back ache of cunt as father
cock pushed and pulled, as dicks will.

I was ten. In 1963, myself in pearl
mirror of Pepsodent teeth, on black
and white TV screen lived. I was reality
on Little Big Payoff, and actual real
part of the events of 1963 -- yes
part of TV payola schemes to make
like the boy did nice things for family,
no kidding. I won all this shit for
my sister while Randy Merriman played
drunk, and this girl, who looked like
Carol Lynley, an actress from the 60s,
spread wide her arabesque and rang
and rang all night like love beaten in
my eyes I am completely transfixed
by the endless plight of the dark earth
renewed, free of poison, made clean
by the rubbing of ass against ground
in the artistry of sex on a merry go round.
I remember watching the show when I was
13, thinking of that same blond actress
while I jerked off in my pants a dirty
man at last while my mother waited in bed
and I was the great scream of Broadway.

There was more. Always more, and equally
true, in the character of LA zoo.

In 1963, Marilyn Monroe kissed my cheek
and I peaked at her tits, and saw my mother
dancing like a burlesque queen as she did
Every night begging me to tell her she was
beautiful which was easy so easy -

Is not the sunrise always magic.
Marilyn and Mother fucked me true
on the TV screen where Ozzie and Harriet
played their childhood games with Ricky
and David in that Pleasant Ville World

Later, much later, after the feast,
as TS Eliot said, Nam grew like lotus
from the mud of my eyes. I was bare,
naked and fucked and so loved by the sky.