S. A. Cavanaugh

This person submitted this poetry to eastvillage.com. I know very little about him so far, but he did send me a link
and that is cavanaugh@nyc.rr.com.

"Exploding O-rings"

baggage is my trip girl
and I won't check you

laughter is my love girl
and I know you don't smile

writing is my life girl
because it avoids me death

and don't kill me if i must have many
of you girl

to avoid me life
to make me laugh
to bleed me cold
to cause me to keep writing these
bullshit poems about death love time and life

to make me read a sign on the subway that
says:
"Learn english, call 18009996677"
and wonder why it says that if i don't know
english

to let me see your reflection in a murky
puddle
and chase after an umbrella

because travelin' light
girl
it's the only way to fly

especially when you want to get away
from poetry that means something

"Moment Of Time"
by s.a. cavanaugh

All in a moment of time
I touch you.
All in a moment of time
You touch me.

Awaking on a lazy Sunday
Morning with a squinting
Hangover battling the
Sunlight screaming from
Between Venetian blinds
We roll,
Still adjoined and
Notice our position didn't
Change from the night
Before.

All in a moment of time
What fond memories flash back.
All in a moment of time
What fond memories are left to come.

Through a kissing mumble
You whisper,
"How do you feel, good morning."
And your lip touches my eyelash
And I dance,
Inside, I dance
A melodic childish rhythm
So at home and so comfortable
With your touch, breath
And your breath tickles my ear
And we roll
And your eye opens on mine
And I'm caught by the aquamarine
Glare and I fall into your
Pupil.

"Whoa, I've never seen
your eyes this color,"
You say and caress my chest.
"Such a deep forest-ness,"
You say and feel the tension in my
back ease away.

All in a moment of time
Nothing else matters.
All in a moment of time
Everything never matters.

We sluggishly exchange
Sullen words
Or so it seems from
The outside, afar,
But our words entangle
And twist life and meaning
Into a symphony of
Profound knowledge that's
Locked away in our sacred chamber.

"What's your favorite part of the body?"
You ask.
"The hip,"
I answer involuntarily...
"Me too… don't you just wish
you had a boyfriend or a girlfriend
so you wouldn't have to worry
and you could have the craziest
and most uninhibited sex ever?"
You say sitting on top of me
With your hands locked in mine
Above my head and your
Hair falls to one side careening
And covering half your face
And slides down your shoulder,
Cascading over your left nipple.

"Of course,"
How else was I supposed to answer?

All in a moment of time
The present lasts forever.
All in a moment of time
The world that I perceive
Becomes meshed with your
Illusion and we can love,
For that moment, we can love!

But, the moment quickly becomes
Another.

And I can only hope
I can only wait
Until the next time
When fools dance
And let ourselves believe
That a moment can last,
That perception through unity
Can exist.
That a moment in time
On a lazy Sunday is worth
More than all the moments
In time to come.

I will see you there again
My love.
I will not feign
Love.
I do have faith
In you.

All in a moment of time
We will be together.
All in a moment of time
You will nurse my wounds.
All in a moment of time
I will make you feel safe.

All in a moment of time...

"Flirting"
by s.a. cavanaugh

Burnt out drudgery
Sick of trudgery
I saw the fickle boy underneath the tree
day dreaming.
some say it was myself,
but I say no,
it is my nephew

I'm afraid of the mirror
I see in me
I'm afraid of the sin that
will someday be him
what happened to innocence?
destroyed by acquiescence
of knowledge,
of things...
World
li
ness.

it's good to know me
it's good to know what
can harm me
she said
she feels
because women always
feel
I think,
I'm a man
what's to drink
no need for brain cells
no need for brains,
just give me jail cells of forbidden
lust.

and the band silently
played on...

feverless fervor
in the witching hour
I didn't mean to use
that line
I didn't mean to
be cliché
but here I am dreaming underneath
that big ole tree
thinking that I think a different way...
nothing is new a foolish
sage once said to me
we've all been taught
eventually what we think
we think of
on our own.

etching and waning
scratching and maiming
what happened to that
theatre we used to attend
the one that rained
on us while we waited?
I miss those days
when will the thirst be
quenched?
when will I not long
for the next sunrise?
when will I be able
to not wear a disguise?

caught up on coattails
I strive to achieve...
then I won...

"Dot Communism"
by s.a. cavanaugh

Are you better?
Do you see?

as I stoically type
and the soft rhythm of computer clicks
guides my soul
as it gets cast,
a shadow on the wall,
only to comfort me with loneliness...

How are you different?
Who can you be?
A glowing glare
peeking from behind a cyber wall
with worshiping whispers...

"Let me be your housecat."
You say not knowing
who i am.
Not knowing that with your
purr I jerk myself off to
sleep each night...

But isn't that the point?
Dot
In this frenzied, freed communist
world of pristine free will
where we dance with destiny
in a virtual rhythm
and we lead,
this time we lead destiny...

Community has been found
in seekers of sameness, sanity.
What gets me off
is only what
matters is that
I am me
whoever I want to be
in this enlightened cave
of human obscurity...

and Marx must be flipping
in his grave saying
"I told you so...
I was just a little early
fuck the bourgeoisie
It's all about free internet access
in order to attain equality..."

So come with me sisters,
that is if you are womyn,
and finally see
that raw emotion
suspends reality,
that neglect of essence
defines existence,
that we are all better
if we log in
to dot communism
and finally see
that we are voices,
thoughts, blips, electricity,
merely saved in some
undefined directory...

databases without faces...

Do you see?
Are you better?