Drawing by Judith Wolfe

Dwain Kitchel /

Six Poems



As lemmings we live out our lives
in placid contemplation
of dreams that lead to our demise
in total saturation

the final frenzied motion stands
above, beyond all reason
deep down in mental depths it lies
awaiting it's true season


11/11/87

we look for love
    like blind men
   on all fours
  fumbling in darkness
  feeling our way
hoping to know
   it's touch
    by influence


11/30/88

when your eyes turn on
         me
       dispelling all pussycat
         notions
       in glimpses
     that fearless feral gleam
lances me transfixed
like some trophy bug
     pinned in a long
     low box
of equally unlucky
     fellows
shreading reason you
       stretch
   pheremones stand no
       chance against
the luxury of your sensually
       timed beauty
         the candle of your
eyes is more than I am moth
yet hotter still desire


it's funny
       but that's all there
         is to it
     wanting someone
     who wants you


9/27/88

two lips to press
       to mine
rows upon rows
       grown fine
or kids under foot
       in time
blah sums of total
       de vine


She said she knew a friend of mine
and then she gave a kiss
I said Mama, take me home with you
got to have some more of this

She said she was a bar maid
I said I didn't care
She smiled as all the lights played
across her long blonde hair

My heart came loose inside of me
I placed it on her tray
The music swept in certainly
and she just danced away