June 9-15, 2000: S.A. Griffin and Dawn M. Milsap

Bio(auto)

I am really not too big on bios, they scare me a little, I prefer for the words to do whatever they can Two books: A One Legged Man Standing Casually On Hollywood Blvd Smoking A Cigarette (Shelf Life Press ’89) & Heaven Is One Long Naked Dance (Rose Of Sharon Press ’93) The Carma Bums book on Sacred Beverage-Twisted Cadillac ’96 The new CB flick-The Luxurious Tigers of Obnoxious Agreement,  just completed by R Bruce Dickson

The following work is Copyright © 1997 and owned by S.A Griffin and may not be distributed or reprinted in any manner whatsover without written permission from the author.

Suddenly Down

I say hi
to this gal I know

I ask how she is
doing
she says,
“Fat, but happy I’ve been on
Prozac for two years “

I say,
“Oh really? They’ve been
trying to get me on that shit for
a while now but I won’t
do it So,
what’s it
like?”

she says
that she
has no sex drive
and I say
oh that’s too bad and she says
no
that’s
great
because
guys
can’t fuck her over
anymore

“That’s cool ” I say

she
smiles
and
walks
away

Food Shopping

we were cruising down the
canned vegetable isle
and Lorraine says,
“Did you get any water? How much do you have at home in the
refrigerator?”

“‘Bout 3 or 4 bottles Just like I usually have Why?”

“Barb says there is going to be another
big earthquake tonight “

“Oh really?”

“Yeah “

“So how does Barb know?”

“She read it in the Rocky Horrorscope “

“Well hell, if Rocky Horrorscope was right about that one, then there would be mass pandemonium in the streets Everything looks pretty calm to me “

a small bit of laughing erupts like a happy volcano farting at the sky
relieving any
tension
trying to build a web around the
moment

forests of hungry thought
devour me with a
gentle rain

I looked at Lorraine and I felt
lucky

we checked out at the 10 items
or less
cash only isle with
milk
a bottle of wine
a can of green beans
and some bread

the night came like a tender giant
and the earth was alive and
content
inside of its skin

the sun was sweating on the other side of the world waiting to
enter
singing

it was a time to rest

Lorraine was asleep in the
bed
next to me

my eyes closed
I fell into
sleep

I was lucky

Cunt Pussy Dick Cock Fuck Poem

“Hi, my name is
Jim I am doing this show on
HBO and I was given your name and
told that you are an
erotic poet “

he had left a
message
on my
machine
a few weeks
prior
but I just
blew it
off

“I am sometimes accused of that, yes “

“Well, we do this program where we
showcase poets with
background and
images So, what is your stuff like?”

“Well, I dunno Why don’t I recite a short piece
and you tell
me “

I rap off a short
sweet
and to the
point
set of words
which include
slap
bite
and
bleed

“We have certain perameters here at
HBO
and we really have to draw the line at
violence and “

“Well, it wasn’t about violence I have another piece about
obsessive fucking that is
3 or 4 minutes
long “

“Yes, well I need short pieces “

“I don’t have anything for you then “

“Well, maybe you could take my number and if you know of anyone that writes
erotic poetry
you could have them
give me a
call “

“Yeah, sure “

I write down his number and
hang up

I am always suspect of anything that dares to call itself erotic

bad television and a
t.v dinner can be
erotic

honest poverty

a crusty towel by the side of the bed

a street corner in the middle of the night hinged on
a slight rain

fog on empty roads that
stretch forever like a
tense lion

kitchens or
bathrooms are sometimes
especially
nice

flannel nightgowns
and cold cotton sheets charged with anticipation as couples conspire to
satisfaction

but there is generally
very little to arouse in
poems
poets or
poetry that carry the warning
erotic

like drinking
light beer
or
decaf

they often have little ability to
stimulate
inebriate or
liberate the
senses

There Is A River

there is a cheerful ignorance
a chance meeting and
luck like gold that cannot be
mined or
stolen

a common atom

a dance

and stars that trick the
water with their
certain
magic

do not wash your wars in it
take your holy rituals to the
precious fountains built by your
agencies of fear

press your
wine from the fallout
and drink your
bitter victory

for yes

there is a river
a giving river that will
sing you safely
a river of
light

final
fast
and
free

where you can
disrobe
and leave your casual sadness
walking sideways at the
shore

meet me there
whoever you are
and we will agree to
swim it
together

Acropolis of Absent Fathers

it was early morning late

I chose to ignore the negative twinge
as I peered out the peephole of my apartment door and saw him staring back
with his
lost smile and
leaping
eyes

he was the young son of an
acquaintance

a slacker type with
psychic
knife
stuck in the
back of his
weeping
karma

he was looking for a place to hang or
crash
for the balance of the
night

I’d a recent
bad experience
playing good neighbor Sam
and picked up this guy I used to know
standing in the rain like a
pathetic wet rat

and there was that twinge

that feeling

midnight

Christmas Eve in a Hollywood grocery store parking lot

alone

the rat turned out to be a junkie

leaving tears of
blood spattered in the sink of my
bathroom
where he’d popped
sticking me for
40 bucks and the
shirt off my
back

I’m a real soft touch

and now

this guy standing in my
doorway

what a case

complete with
Christ complex
God thing and a powerful
hatred of
women

his old man was a con
so was his older brother

when I met his mother
she was at the time a
self-styled
Marxist
recently crossing over and
shifting gears to become a
born again Christian
raising a grandson for the
younger sister who was working the
streets on
crack
with a little
gang-banging on the
side

the kid had learned his lessons well
turning the shit inside down and
upside
out

I didn’t have the heart to pitch him the no room at the
inn
routine
so I
let him
in

thought maybe I could
reach the kid and help pull the
funky monkey off his
back

he had been seen down at the local coffee haunt just days before
escorting a styrofoam cup full of
dead snake around like it was a
pet dog
telling folks he was
God

and this night was no different

his energy was up
and he was in good
form

my 6 year old son was asleep in the
other room
so I stayed up with my
wide eyed
blistering prophet of
negative
ha ha
for awhile
thinking
I might
reign his ass in a bit before I left him alone

he started in with his well oiled rap about how the evil women had fucked up the planet and soon was onto his bit about
being
The Almighty

“Man, I’m gonna drain all my blood and fill my veins with liquid gold and then I’ll become the God I was meant to be and everybody will
know And I’ll be able to fly man I’ll
fly above everything and
everyone
and I’ll be
God “

“Wow, no shit Yeah, ya know, I have dreams about flying sometimes “

“No man I mean fucking fly dude For real Dig It’s time ya know? I mean, I’m talking power, real fucking power
ya know,
and nobody will be able to
fuck with me
’cause I’ll be God man I mean, I am
God,
it’s just that nobody
knows “

his eyes were reaching
his mouth was moving
his mind caught somewhere
betwixt and
between

he was heading over the edge of a
flat world with
no
brakes

I was up with him until about
3:30
maybe
4

I set him up in the front room with a few sleeping bags

about
5:15
something stirred my ass awake and I
wandered out into the
front room
half
dazed

the fanatic fuck had
cut his wrists with my one dull steak knife and cannibalized the
T.V antenna
plugging
the frayed bare wires into each of his
wrists

he had dismantled my red lava lamp
and smeared the warm gooey
lava wax all over his
forearms

my C.D player whacked out on some sort of emergency broadcast
weirdness
while this goof is grooving
big time
to static and snow on the
T.V
there was a sprinkling of
blood weeping on the
carpet and he was
flying
high

I walked over to the door and
opened it

“All right, get the fuck out, now!”

“But man, you don’t realize what I’ve done ”

“I don’t fucking care Get the fuck out of here, NOW!”

“You’ll regret this when you realize what I’ve done This is an important discovery Your apartment is sacred I’ve become God!”

my son comes stumbling in rubbing his eyes

I guess he had heard me
debating with the new
God
about the merits of a good
miracle

“Get back to bed Spencer “

he didn’t hesitate
he knew from the tone of my
voice
that was exactly
what he
should
do

he turned heel and
exited back to the safety of
the bedroom

we build our shrines to the
strangest possible
things

somehow
there was something
tragically correct about him
believing
he was God
plugged into the
T.V and the stereo
lavulating to the energy
and bleeding into the
cheap brown carpet of my
apartment

he disconnected with my place and
vanished

it was the last time I really spent any time with the boy

I called his Mother the following day and told her he was going over and
to get him some
help

the poor fuck

there were no answers

just
revolving
doors
in and out of
county jails and
madhouses

so tonight
years later
the phone rings,
“Hey S.A ,
you hear about Shelly’s son
Craig?”

“Oh no, don’t tell me “

“Yeah he took off all of his clothes and jumped off an overpass onto the
freeway and
killed hisself “

“Ah hell That’s fucking sad I’m not surprised ”

“Me neither His two biggest heroes were his Dad and his older brother, and they were both fucked up man I guess that’s what happens Maybe he’s not mad anymore,
maybe he’s at peace “

“I agree If there’s peace in dying,
he’s with it now,
ya know “

he had succeeded in building one last shrine

an Acropolis where
lost sons worship
absent fathers and
dreams of
flying
but he flew too high and had
offed himself in the
process

melting in the intense light of the truth and tumbling
Earthward like a
naked limp sack of
potatoes
pulling the twisted knife from out of his back
and stabbing the pavement with all the passion and heart
that makes the miracle of
living
possible

finally escaping the
desperate
deep
darkness

dancing in the
sometimes
unbearable light of
love

Dawn M Milsap
writerchick@geocities.com

Bio(auto)

Dawn M Millsap of Michigan City, Indiana, has studied for three years at Purdue University North Central, where she has served for two years as a Writing Center tutor She will be attending Valparaiso University this fall, attempting to complete her double major in English and German, specializing in translation Her spare time is filled with writing, gardening, and corresponding with pen pals, as well as indulging in her preoccupation with the Beatles, especially George Harrison.

The following work is Copyright © 1997 and owned by Dawn M Milsap and may not be distributed or reprinted in any manner whatsover without written permission from the author.

Glazed

You worship the face
without name,
the voice without words,
message without pen In the crowd

she rises tall
above the peasants:
a cracked ceramic
through which your
good favor seeps.

A Kiss Before We Die

Bump shoulders
rub elbows
Lean into me gently–
Lifting hair at the root–
Feels so good
Want it so bad
But I can’t–
Told you no before–

Just say it now
Before you go.

Don’t Invade My Cyberspace

Don’t
form those words
I’m no saint
I can’t be your idol
Iím not heaven’s gift
of ministry to you
I will not fly to your side
on wings of gold and lace
This is not about
Time
Distance
(Lack of) Interest
This is about me I’m a work in progress
Read: Under Construction
No Access to this Road
reads another
If you cared to know Most clearly of all,
another reads,
Do Not Enter.

Searching for the Wetlands

Every
Day I wait for you to show up–
Going from door to door–
Arriving finally at mine, searching for
Romance and love inside:

And you
Never come
Down my street
Dawn is breaking through this whole, illuminating an Arid region where the
Wind ever blows,
Never allowing the wild rains to fall