I knew a **** who traveled
traveled far and near
liked to exit casually and slip out thru the rear

I knew a **** who traveled
and became so well known
that all the intellectuals
called him "art" when he was blown

I watched the sun set
over a Maxwell Parish sky
I sat alone
isolated by my own genius

The moment, the day, the breath
Where everything you have known
Ceases to exist
The moment, the day, the breath
Waiting, dead, resurrection
The stupidity
The complete stupidity
Of a woman falling in love

boredom is the moment
you start noticing
how your tongue
lays against your teeth
and the weight of the tongue
becomes heavy, akward, and
most uncomfortable.

connections
within the human mind
jump sluggish
as bull frogs
from lily to lily
until from malice or inspiration
it quickens like a raging fire
then darts feverishly between
thoughts and words
and moments of memory and recollection
sprinting so fast that the latter blurr
becomes an image of fantasy

I don't believe
I don't believe in sandwiches, or ******* jacks
or call me backs
I don't believe in rusted vines, fireplaces
or ancient wines
I don't believe in a pleasant girdle, the hula hoop
or attempted hurdle
I don't believe in the things that sing, or things that bleed
or anything.
I don't believe in candlesticks
or the light I've lit.

Friday night and what to do
he can have any girl to *****
but his feet long for something new
beyond the old bip bam boo

alone at the table
waiting to be served
wearing a frown
still waiting
frown grows larger and larger
until a cookbook drops on my head
and out of my hat jumps a rabbit
and he does the tango with a chicken
who is running in circles screaming
the sky is falling
and I open the cookbook
and it is written in a foreign language
and I am sitting at the table waiting to be served
I am wearing a frown
a big, big frown

He lays down **** like a shadow
Thrown by a movie spotlight
He eats passion like he is
******* the juices of the last peach on Earth
He walks proudly like a naughty child
Who made a clean escape
He talks integrity like a lion
With a human child in his mouth
He pushes imagination like
A clown in a silent temple
He lays down ****
And it’s all over me

With each kiss
He takes my soul
He owns me
And I no longer exist
Except as his servant

my feet float above the floor,
and flowers fall like rain,
and furniture spins and dances
like fingers strumming a violin
strung from the moon,
my joy knows no gravity
my joy knows no gravity
my joy knows no gravity

and the day washes over me
and my retina is strained
and the dog has broke his leash
and he is talking to me in French
and the day washes over me
and everywhere I go
it turns a few degrees colder
and the colors deepen into themselves
and the day washes over me
and the man with the apron paces below
six rows of track lighting
and the day washes over me
and I think of Billy

he drank until it was safe
to mouth insults at others
it made him feel better
about being mad at himself

He is dragging me by my feet
As I am plowing the earth with my fingernails
Burnt embers of dead relatives
Flint from my head