rainbows of oil
where your f ingers t ouch
leave mar ks on marble
leave ma rks on slate
leave waves in wa ter

and I know you can touch the surface bec
ause I pulled you back from goi
ng deep
before you fell too hard to rea
ch the bottom

--
--
--
--

I imagined your fingers reaching up

I knock my head against my head
in the grey hole with my head in a wall

and then I remember steve roggenbuck telling me to market the moon
and that walt whitman existed and he smelled his armpits and rejoiced
and then I have to say I am a poet, I am not bound

to be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poetto be a poet

"MAN WALT WHITMAN WOULD APPRECIATE THIS"

to
that
head against head

you-blunt-smoking-instaweed-post-on-facebook-****-smoker
you-blon­de-at-the-cvs-pharmacy-that-had-a-high-school-abortion-and-was-os­tricized
you-proud-and-sober-born-again-praise-the-lord-believer
­
that posts
pixilated baby photos
peach-flavored blunt wrappers
a bad picture of a lonely flower

who are you

you are looking more aged every year
I don't know who is sadder.

I am sorry I speak poorly of you

I do not know what happened to me
I do not know what happened to you

sorry for nothing-
---you stupidshit
sorry for nothing-
tightfisted-----kid
sorry for nothing-
for nothing, at all
sorry for nothing-
now---don't---call

Aspirin sticks deep, hot in my throat
while I choke it down, up I cough,
speedily burning up all my thoughts
into the power of steam and smoke!

Pulling at hair, I must retract all I wrote,
all these scowls, and these scoffs,
the running, the running, and pushing off,
that came with the want to sow my oats

The pain, oh the burn that taunts my head--
for I took my trust from your hand,
now I am awake, with regrets, in bed,
for not seeing you--at once--as an awful man.

I may not be all contented
but at least I can be alone

not roasted with my skin crackling by boredom
in the presence of a long-winded nerd who's cringing over enthusiasm brings out
the mildly grey abuse of power in me.

I curl up in the dark, alone.
But I will find contentment sometime within me.

curled up with La Dolce Vita
and all I'll admit to is how I missed holding your hand at night
and your seeming naive affection for Tarantino.

And how you got offended that you weren't my muse,
baby (not baby) you rocked my world.

I came from your mouth and you inspired jealousy
we can be friends that **** but by God,

we are both too stupid to do as much
because I want to snort coke off your massive ****
and remember that you know nothing about Kantian ethics
from what I said
and what you did

and how I felt

from breaking up with my boyfriend'
to *******

and your expression
when you found out you were no longer my muse