(no subject)
PRIMAVERA
a birdfeeder attracts rock doves, sparrows
& a pair of parakeets.
i roll across the grass, acres &acres
to smooth out the hunch- what backing into
a corner has done to this battered, muscular back.
the landscape turns from black into yellow again
yes. alabaster. the people claim anarchy
diverting abandonements. neutral ground.
40,000. oil. drills
are noisy creatures-
they've inspired this new junk draw
on my hands
&a bag of china white.
loose my hair. forget to nurture it.
proceed to lose track of how long it takes to dry.
the motel wants us out, out
on our own. it's had enough- but not me, and certainly
not you.
dreams of nam
between running with my machine gun-
my face twitching. teeth grinding, i’ve a headache
on this pillow gone black.
deus, it’s up to you.
i ought lose just one more tooth
to feel worthy to call on you.
one tooth
to be purified again of every last sin
that told themselves to me.
bang, bang, ha, ha. every action refusing
to be translated a wound.
alabaster, black, some way out
to leave all the concrete,
to shit on the big city.
moving along, moving along.
fuck it. i say i'm not in mortal trouble.
it is the beach that is living.
venus there waiting, livid with possessiveness, jealousy.
i offer her driftwood. she throws it into
the sound, smiling.
two parakeets. one flees
the other stays, blindly starving.
a birdfeeder attracts rock doves, sparrows
& a pair of parakeets.
i roll across the grass, acres &acres
to smooth out the hunch- what backing into
a corner has done to this battered, muscular back.
the landscape turns from black into yellow again
yes. alabaster. the people claim anarchy
diverting abandonements. neutral ground.
40,000. oil. drills
are noisy creatures-
they've inspired this new junk draw
on my hands
&a bag of china white.
loose my hair. forget to nurture it.
proceed to lose track of how long it takes to dry.
the motel wants us out, out
on our own. it's had enough- but not me, and certainly
not you.
dreams of nam
between running with my machine gun-
my face twitching. teeth grinding, i’ve a headache
on this pillow gone black.
deus, it’s up to you.
i ought lose just one more tooth
to feel worthy to call on you.
one tooth
to be purified again of every last sin
that told themselves to me.
bang, bang, ha, ha. every action refusing
to be translated a wound.
alabaster, black, some way out
to leave all the concrete,
to shit on the big city.
moving along, moving along.
fuck it. i say i'm not in mortal trouble.
it is the beach that is living.
venus there waiting, livid with possessiveness, jealousy.
i offer her driftwood. she throws it into
the sound, smiling.
two parakeets. one flees
the other stays, blindly starving.