to-night is one of those long nights
where i have a moon conversation
tell it my dreams & fears--it just spits cloud-wa-ter
back down in my face

where i climb the roof & clear
my throat--close my eyes
& pro-ject my melanchol-y toward the stars
punching the empty sky

it happens occasionally
some-times under a gibbous moon
(i don't have a choice)

where i lay on the cold grass in sweat-pants
shout & sing to the sky --or--
run a-round getting dirt in my toenails
swatting pine-cones out of the hands
of low-hanging branches

my ears & nose tip shine
under the feather orph-an
clouds

where there's still wi-fi no matter
how hard i tried to escape it

i get twitter-pated on a pretty girl's facebook
but never introduce myself in person

where i listen to mahler in the dark &
receive spectral messag-es

write scattered dew-drop poems like
ginsberg did

rock back & forth

maybe cry a little

rub one out--

finally
go to sleep a-round
dawn
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& wake again
snug as a bug
sleepy numb--reluctant
to find a ****-stain poem
w/ my last conscious fingerprint
expand-ed into cyber-space