This is the official blog of Northern Arizona slam poet Christopher Fox Graham. Begun in 2002, and transferred to blogspot in 2006, FoxTheBlog has recorded more than 670,000 hits since 2009. This blog cover's Graham's poetry, the Arizona poetry slam community and offers tips for slam poets from sources around the Internet. Read CFG's full biography here. Looking for just that one poem? You know the one ... click here to find it.

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Vacancy Sign Over the Bed

embraced by solitude
a vacancy sign hangs over the bed
I expect no takers in the near future
nor do I advertise the free space

over coffee or pints
the cornucopia of hips and thighs
parade pheromonic aphrodisiacs
and carressable limbs
languidly eager for a lover’s touch

they pass my ascetic indifference
drawing xenobiologic attention
but not the primal leers
of a potential mate
I take mental notes for later publication
in an alien script
but feel no urge beyond curiosity
to explore hot breath or racing pulses
CNN holograms or Renaissance art
holds the same interest to look on
mumble an analysis
and pass on to other distractions of equal import

perhaps my pipes need lubrication
in the alcoholic bliss
that used to guide nightly paths
even penmanship has changed form
lacking the swirls and flourishes
that used to impress shoulder-huggers
now small and architectural
as articulation marries form
while the grace finds conviction
in the precision of each character
betraying emotionless observation
of the passing details without suspecting ulterior motives

my bed has no space
for conventional deceptions
the minor untruths spoken between mediocre lovers

if she’s hunting for me,
my exiled absence is the only quarry to discover
unless she breaks down the door
to kill me in my sleep
but I’ve long since given up the misguided assumption
that I’m chase-worthy

blank stares now purged of judgment
lacking younger preconceptions
I’ve played out all the manipulations to inevitable endings
leaned the tricks of chess masters
sighing at the impossibility of innovations
knowing all the results,
I seek other sports
something in four dimensions
worth the time and effort to maintain my interest
but lacking an adversary
such drive is just masturbatory exercise
that just leaves me spent and still hungry for more than this

I yearn for a match of
multiple-centenary plural-dimensional global thermonuclear chrononavigational hopscotch
but the world is still mastering 8-bit Pong
and my lightsaber hasn’t been invented yet
video pixels can’t encapsulate a proper opponent
worth the quarters I could waste to reach the credits
in the meantime I leave the vacancy wide open
stack pages of poems in place of a person
and look over my shoulder
hoping she’s caught me in her crosshairs

1 comment:

Rachel said...

My bed also carries with it
a vacancy sign that hiccups neon lights.

The left side yearns to be filled
with warmth and breathing
instead of a stray arm or leg from a
restless night's sleep.

But empty beds are better
than those filled with broken hearts,
misled emotions and tired dreams.

My bed is empty
but engulfs me alone
after a long day
and my tired soul does not have to fight
for its share of the blankets to keep warm.

One day we all hope to find ourselves
chased by or chasing that person
to fill the space
that reality left behind
but until then
I'll sit with you in words.