[feels good to be born in the wild again]

 

this

on the atomic level, quark glue

other than the ghost storm dance

winter of gaseous rain

and frozen bodega coffee hands

is how i feel love for you

simple and sticky

hands

and hands

in sleep

 

 

 

[but now where to]

 

i really do want to paint with you

next to you-- why not--

the lure is more fun when

it's vaguely caught

 

i wonder what kind of job you keep

besides writing smart and angry about the

farce that is humankind 

i want to talk mind to mind

not ego to ego

we learn something from everyone

despite the pressure to act from the cast

which now doesn't fit,

everyday you have to slice the mold to bits

 

no money, no home, i've got a man far away

he's older, wants children

i'm still riot livin

where will i go next after this park

when i'm done sitting under barbed wire

behind the la brea tar pits

in stippled sun?

you're around here, black hair green eyed absurdist

but i won't call you-- what is there to discuss,

but ideas while feeling

we could have hit the ceiling that night reading the little prince

together-- ever enduring innocence-- your motto

or in malibu we ran edge to a purple ocean and

up across the ridge an orange grotto

gave us sticks and we made noises to the high cliff abyss  

mockeries of ourselves, mocking ourselves

 

 

 

[yell into dust microphone]

all the mornings you spend leaving

i stay asleep

meaning to reclaim the other world

where your brown hair

diagonal to the blaring white sky

fades into

a golden silhouette

woman god who then

introduces herself to me

with water and sun dust eyes

saying in your voice

no one

who i remember,

no one stays here:

hand to breast plate.

 

 

[hudson st] 

trashing my new faces

i kissed your mouth 

it was like a date

leather jackets

from our grandfathers

who weren't as free 

to walk around new york city

arm in arm, chains from zipper

pockets clinking

cold metal in October air

in the middle

a photographer asks to take our picture

 

[disambiguation]

i pierced my nose on st. marks 

after the three months in costa rica

where i learned to cry instead of puke

and also to have sex for a very long time

in the jungle

 

 

[during it]

i said i didn't like sleeping at lovers' houses

so he asked me if i was expected somewhere

and it was true, i had a boyfriend waiting for me

to come home for the third time that week

around 8 am