All of the great
Songs about memory
And art
Have already been
Written. I didn’t
Have the .
I forget, I didn’t
Have the power.
Picasso said it all about
War, Petrelli could fly.
And here I am feeling
So ordinary.
Let me not have to go
To work
And curse the goddam computer
And overdose on coffee cup cures.
Picasso married the dancer in 1918.
Petrelli saved the world.
I’m content taking love for granted
And writing about the Senate.
I know,
This is just another poem.
When DST kicked inThe door of NovemberEarth shook with time and temp. The river covered itself with broken clothing.The moon was but a stolen egg. Those of us suing EnergyFoamed butane thermsAt the incalculable mouth. Rabid with due datesWe had the delinquent notionTo run our ceiling fansCounter-clockwise in winter; To share the hot air fair.As … Continue reading Count Dracula Doesn’t Count
I Compare them & see.The city of youthGrows up alongside the ageless river,Becomes apprentice of its flow.The river is bustlingBut always there,Always also there.You would think it doesBut it has nowhere to go.The city respondsWith pigeons, people,Seagulls on the backs of boats,Sligo Enterprises, precocious Sligo Steel.The smokestacks of necessary factoriesGrow first, test the wind. II … Continue reading Master & Apprentice
I’m holding two pens,
one in either hand.
One pen is for me,
one is for my muse.
I can’t write left-handed
but the muse can.
When my wife coughs
at midnight,
the heater burns with
orange light.
Tonight.
I lead with my left,
not my right.
There is a tightness in my headAs if my eyes were chewing gum. Today I learned that tequila is not afraid to be its own drink.That is to say, it does not take orders. Not on the rocks.Not(e)s of coconut, pepper, and reminiscent moon. I have not meditated since last month.There is no Monastery de … Continue reading Landscape: Inferior Interior
II want to be respectedWhen it comes to smoking.I am not a chimney.I do not burn coal.Tobacco leaf, bronzed,Is strict pleasure.Not a TV set! IICocaine is OKFor gov’t purposes.Otherwise, just missiles and snow.A body.American Shoe.Impotence.This is the age of the stock market —Born and then risen again! IIISomeone moves behind a screen.Not only is this … Continue reading Ode to RJR –or– The S&P 8
My body is in
perfect balance right now
but I miss all radiators.
We’ll drink together
(said one radiator to another)
and the heating oil inside us
will go up by as much as
thirty-two dollars a barrel.
They both chuckle like wineslaves.
I awake to the sounds of a coup.
When I died my life became
Nothing but a reel-to-reel
Of all the dreams I’d ever had.
Nightmares, wet ones, lucidity and flying.
But when I got through with those, my afterlife
Was nothing but the dreams within the dreams.
And now, with that tape flickering
In the empty silence of a classroom,
I’m wishing I’d had at least one dream
Of a dream about a dream.
41
My favorite poets
Had their own problems—
How reassuring
42
This is just an act
Me sitting here stoned and drunk
In the chair
43
Hey, aren’t the zinnias
Pretty?
Let’s have another drink
44
As I watch The War,
I decide to skip dinner—
The battle of my bulge
45
Bare nail in wall
Where my painting hung—
Now I see the sun
Night as hard as
The table we sit at.
Once wood the
Table grew old,
Became a table.
Night, pressed,
Becomes morning.
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