it has been storming so often

in the evenings he rolls over the city

so come down and meet me;
in the rain if you must--

I am too raw to do much else

most things ***** and push

but if this is the dust of your feet
then I'd lie in your wake

on the hammock this evening
the west pasture filled with thick
mulberry clouds, framed by sheathes of
apricot mist in drapes

I am watching the leaves of The Cottonwood
shimmer, flip their golden underbellies up
like schools of danios

And I’m talking to God about being alone—
I send a couple videos to Alyssa

Somewhere on Central some young boys
rip down the backroads up Fields on
their little bikes, setting every dog off in
the copse mobile home park

it’s not that I’m not grateful

No messages. Just wind, late evening.
Sunday with the Lord.

Dear E----,

The bus crawls eastward like an insect:
silvery carapace and compound eyes,

broad-spotted blue-red with ads
as we scuttle along the curb-crumbs,

outpacing a decaying Tuesday sun.
In my thoracic seat I think of love,

its strangest colors and contours,
gentle treacheries and bridges burnt,

a wavering lawn of doubled sleep.
Tonight we dine on margaritas

in our cheap pub on the hill,
hope the questions all get answered,

touch feet under the table in secret.
I'm sure I wear at your patience

with this haircut I slashed myself,
my many stumbles of attention,

all my errors of cipher and code,
& the old hot luggage of my battles...

but you persevere. Look up -
the stars are champagne perlage

in a dark coupe, and all around
the living are dying; the dying are living.

She left me like
Brutus left Caesar
like a shark attack.
My back was bent and
bleeding, and I was well
versed in delirium.

She had the electricity
shut off the day after
she abandoned me, and I drank
myself into a new oblivion.
There were kittens in
the wall--shadows tall and hot,
and I was well-versed
in delirium.

I stole Four Locos' from
the convenience store, but
not enough to keep
the goblins at bay.
They chased me through
my nightmare--molested
me at dawn.
The elixir exorcised the monsters.
But I often misplaced it,
in the dryer or fireplace.
The meat began to rot in
the freezer, and I was
well-versed in delirium.

My moonflowered brain thought
the cat tree was
a person.
I paced the floor and
talked to it; asked questions,
sought solace.
Degradation of the
mind reached critical mass.
And I landed in the
psych ward again.
The bats brought seizures,
and cheesecake, and yogurt
berry parfaits that were
to die for.
I was well-versed in
delirium

I fill a prehistorically stained blue seat
as we pull left down Florida Avenue.

In a black pyramid of oversized shirt
a woman spreads gospel from hands

heavy with speaker cones, the chorus
warning all unmarried womens

to look out, look out for the devil.
A man two seats ahead stares out

into blurred spring-raised dusk,
shudders inwardly, cupped with fever -

the college girl who chanced herself
beside him fishes with a worried eye,

edges a thigh into silver aisle air.
Four kids without parents field

strange questions from an old drunk:
"You kids like watching cartoons?

You like them cartoons where pants
fall down and you see some ***?

I know I do" until the oldest brother
huddles them off the bus with a look

dark and hard as moonless brick.
As I exit on Belmont, I pass a pair

of construction workers, hardhats
tied to belt loops, fallen asleep

shoulder to shoulder, lulled
by the soft hunt of April thunder

that rides across the slates above,
leading lonely names into the west.