Electric Pony Light
This is what I look like when you’re not looking
at me I feel feverish my eyes are bigger in your
electric pony light. There will never be more of me
than you can handle ever, I swear. Leave the heavy lifting
to my sturdy legs. Parts of me are strewn on the floor,
I can pick them up later. Leather wristband, cold cream,
and my lost in space feeling marking what remains of the morning:
you and your helium will. It’s curtains for the
sheepish and sullen. They can suck it. What I’m trying
to say is: morning with you is a luxury in the puzzle
of my day. Give me the soft solace of your arms.
All amber-scented and clear-headed,
you move through me like a bright tiger
jolts the green with her stripes in the woods.
You might be more awake than even I could imagine
but the way coffee tastes in your mouth
when I lean in makes my spine buzz with jazz.
When you’re not looking I’m right here.
-Todd Colby
clouds/prayers for milk jane -
she hitched from wonderland to new freedom--
memory serves me fondly w/jane milk jane stealing wallets from rides
dashboards. kicking coke machines busting phones - jane made LOVE cuz fucking
was for dups - she was into hippie cumming to an END -- milk jane knew about
punk before the magazine was called PUNK - where the fuck is milk jane milk
jane - pot pot and chicken fried steaks and milkshakes - jane hitched
everywhere - thats how i lost track - so i moved to newyork -- she liked
anything - i liked onething: newyork - fuck l.a. - germs are OVER -
milkjane probably could’ve loved the germs - probably desperately could’ve had
germs burn and beat don bolles head to the wall stick nipple in his face,
laff and leave him --stranded--. she’d do that to hippies - punkx would’ve been
more fun - but she split - we split right before punk - she made a salad and
ate it - she was into making salads and then hitching to this shit bar in
brewster and we’d just fucking sit there and watch older fucks burn OUT -- i
heard about the ramones but it was too late - milk jane kinda booked - was
gone - maybe she would’ve held me back from the snob art soho circle of sput.
--but that would’ve sukked - i needed to witness such now-white-SMASH --
milk jane is married dead happy burnt --write me mj read this in a bookstore
one chance in a fuckingmillion - read this and write me . write me write me
write me write me write me write me before its too late - before i lose
everything i can hardly smell anymore - you were everything i can remember.
and memory is nothing but the smell of your legs 1/2 drunk, no future, thai
stick in the graveyard -
-Thurston Moore for Milk Magazine
**Todd Colby is a beloved treasure that I resurrected today bored on Thanksgiving. His poems electrocute me back to life.
Hope everyone had a nice thanksgiving and SAFE black friday.
-mm
