Ante Maquina: “Richard”

[Hey Richard,

We’re gonna need to make another run soon.

Let me know if you’re free

this weekend.]

Ante Maquina: “I need to dream to dream longer instead:”

If I were a Jesus God supplant 

brain bugs in my cereal

golden three legged dogs with white teeth crossing side streets

and chinese women with big breasts

are seen saturated lime green

through a relocated russian doorway

young men

are discussing real estate

coke-addicts aren’t allowed

this close to the mountain

and I need to stop 

toying with my dread.

Ante Maquina: “Cliffs”

She didn’t pick up.

Hellions of white shields and bare breasts forsake me. 

What fool would dine on plate of hot ashes.

She saw me in the forest, trekked down from the road. She took me and pervaded me. 

So much the fool, I was.

No zeroes, no numbers even, all I needed was her soft caramel flesh pressed upon mine, and the soft whisper of her fears in my ear, telling me I was alright, and that she was ready for me.

Better men have been pushed off cliffs.

Ante Maquina: Journal January 14th, 2011

I contemplated going to Romania earlier. Bucharest to be specific. It was the herb, it always is but also an irateness that stemmed from frustration. 

I wasn’t as devastated as I thought I’d be, but the again, I never heard the news directly. I had to infer from the new interactions, the stale air that sits when they don’t look at each other in public and speak in hushed tones. 

They are trying to be friends.

Its sweet, and I think they are doing an okay job.

Nothing is real anymore. Or at least at three AM nothing is real. 

I am a devil in waiting, as I’ve always said. 

A devil with blue eyes and a nice glow, biding my time.

Ontario to Denver, Denver to Zurich, Zurich to Bucharest. Fifteen hundred dollars. 

Tomorrow it could be true, except I no longer have that money. But I can drive four hundred miles on my tank of gas. Along empty roads I’d find peace and solace. 

This is the second night in a row I’ve used my long coat as a blanket. 

Ante Maquina: “I Suppose it’s Better not to be Thor…”

Great circles
I am a weak man
with no shoes
and beastly rage.
Go away…
great circles
are all that come to me
numbers in the night
and ants.
I never existed
so I think that means:
the joke’s on you.

-July 12th, 2010

Ante Maquina: “Portland”

Its the words that stone scamper sideways
confused and out of breath
down a short path to the glass
boutille- you are a fox
and I am drowning in whiskey.

The past moon only lit half your face,
the other half whispered silent
laughs in the darkness,
and horns grew from your hair,
and smoke billowed from your
nostrils, and I spoke only
until I could get away.

Little licks from East Washington,
a desert overlooked,
and I stare out from the porch
of our room at 
the Starlite Motel,
and watch the specs of old Gods
dance and shiver,
until you call me in.

It smells like smoke,
and you are naked, so I kiss your breasts, 
and we make love and fall asleep.

Ante Maquina: “Providence: March 18th, 2009”

Providence is hazy in the winter.
I’ve seen the white snow fall, and her eyes close.
She spoke of things, like a muse,
Whispering lest she be discovered.
The timeless age of love is hazy in the winter.
I’ve seen the white snow fall,
And she whispered small words,
Not wanting to be discovered for
the muse she is.
Providence, she said, Rhode Island,
is where she wants to be.
This is what she whispered.
It’s hazy, in the winter.
I know, she said, but I wish
for a colder time.
Wisps of white snow fell from her eyes.
I would cry too, but in private.
Alone she is free to be the muse she is.
She needn’t know my pain:
Providence is hazy in the winter.  

Ante Maquina: “Dark”

the trains haven’t stopped running

but the tickets are out of stock.

the benches are warm

but only in the daytime,

and in my dreams I hear

classic themes and call out your name

only to awake to my own echo.

that postcard is in the mail

but it won’t reach you

I think, because the roads

are all rivers now,

and the moon is split in two.

in my dreams I hear my name,

so I follow it,

never truly able to find my

way back.

-February 28, 2011