Pretty Okay
Dance in the grey, it’s a pretty okay
A foot in the bed of an earth stamped sandal
A tattered-torn anklet like an airplane blue blanket
Treading naked the road with no peachy display
A fence that holds hostage its border and name
Looking for rightness, a neutered excitement
Or a hope that is young, imprisoned for fun
And rationed out slim to make tangibly tame
Deformed rusty mold with a texture and taste
All diseases I own will be mine to parade
But I’m looking for hope to be mined to create
While imprisoned an intimate, minor mistake
Pair a leader, a leaper, deformity way
Raise your flock to feed off the disease that you make
Then a whistle and spark and they bury me shade
To live out a sentence embark in the fade
While a half hearted lightness in rags and indictments
Said “I would be fine living day after day
Wandering Earth with no plans of a purpose
Living my life as a pretty okay”
the 1950s’ lesbian pulp fiction bookcase at recycled books
each shelf filled with tales
of women lazily touching
each other’s thighs and forearms
with soft wandering fingers
in back alley motel rooms
and army barracks,
kisses hidden in shadowed corners,
hands held under the covers,
side glances in public spaces,
gentle hands cupping breasts
late at night with slow and gentle movements,
climaxes filled with women screaming
women’s names and institutionalizations and suicides
because they said
no woman could be both
happy and homosexual
PunkPoetry.com is delighted to introduce you to CE Hoffman, our very first Punk Poet contributor ever. This is a historic moment in the arts, ladies and gentleman. And with the current rapid disintegration of the West, it couldn’t come at a better time. We live in interesting times, and we need interesting work to represent them. Describing her work as FemmePunk Poetry, CE Hoffman also has a volume of poetry available at Amazon.com – Miss Spiritual Tramp of 1948.
You can also find her at http://visceraluterus.blogspot.com
Nice Day to Get Laid*
Grown-up kid w/ groceries: cheese buns, Pepsi.
White clouds make chaos w/ sickgreen leaves.
The grass is not me, we
coexist separate-
ly.
Like how whores live alone no matter the number
of lovers they do (or don’t) take home
Like how mothers mourn while Kids get to grow
Like how whores live alone.
Grown-up girl w/ groceries: in-store sushi.
In other news, I’m making history.
In other words I’m totally
FUCKED
aka
damn lucky.
(*This title is taken from a Sex in the City quote. Seriously.)
