she drank too much
couldnt even walk
eyes blurred
but she managed to
make her way
down to the fence
broken down
like all their memories
touched waters
and her blood ran cold

one afternoon
in Dallas
i found wet concrete
or rather
it found me
i eased my hands
into it
and spread every word
evenly
a myriad of thoughts
of you
and loss
reign public
on those downtown sidewalks
today

My map seemed bigger when I was young.
Among many things from my youth.
How often did I hung from your tongue?
Believing words to be gospel truth.
I was, as you say, uncouth in sooth.

My map seems smaller now.
The edges closing in on me now.
Black lines crisscrossing me now.
Don't know what to do now.

My map is gone.
And I'm to afraid to move.
I could step on a percussion cap,
gain a concussion or worse.
The unknown is overgrown with death caps
beneath my feet.

My map is gone and I do bemoan it.

just one word
that bind
the ghost of men
shall
speak to me again
just one word

sitting in my seat

all I do is think

saving every breath

counting every blink

thinking fashionably about death

I watch their eyes begin to wander

up and down each others’ bodies

I close

stick a hand into my thoracic cavity

and pretend it’s a clock to wind

backward through time

like they do in magazines

and in front of well lighted storefronts

and downtown mini malls across America.

any beauty column will tell you the tricks

and what you have to trade,

every weight has a balance

and every product has a price.

hands in your pockets

chin in the air

eyes on the pavement—

almost there,

almost there

button your buttons

string your shoes

"I think I can,

I think I can”

you can’t, of course,

but the emptiness of cleared out commercial blocks

and brown brick buildings

and wide streets that are empty in the night

they all call out

antagonizing you with imposing angles

narrowing density

constricting construction

walk away from it all

hide your naked figure alone and cold in the crippling dark