The postman showed up ready for Miami so I slung his bag around my shoulder & set out down the block. All the neighborhood dogs loved me but the little Asian lady on the corner admonished me to love her Buddha tacky flowers and faded yellow junk store haircut. In the gutter I found an old drunk redneck yelling: “Hey, you seen any ******* ‘round here?” I told him no and he asked: “Are you sure?!” & hopped up on a bag of bottles/ flew away. Down the liquor store the man there never smiles just sells his greasy chicken and tobacco, asks me where I been and I say “Oh, you know.” He keeps his floors polished and argues with his brother when you turn away. I ask him how much for tonight & he answers like a jackal, says I can’t be hustling deposits here & kick me out on Tuesday. I *** home & cat ***** on my shoe. Clean it up & pour oatmeal on his head just nice. He purr & coo & I go “aw, aw, kitty, no.” He bundle up in the room where I don’t know & trail spaghetti markers to my bed. I rent my lamp out to the city in exchange for unknown pleasure & get tackled in the bedsheets.

She’s dancing incognito
Beneath a vaulted space
With arms spun into circles
Pulling light across her face

Blue beer can on the highway
Like a sapphire in the sun
No motion
Where it’s resting
Machines roaring
Caught in endless transit
Ferried to the ends
Of city blocks where
Torn-up asphalt
Burst out of
The cobblestone dream
Return back into dust
Call up some
Urgent memories
Some fact forgotten
Some tired plan undone
Recast in pebbles

The was no joy in her dance
As she spun around the pole
Hips like icebergs
Carving up the scenery
Thick with
Ammonia and bleach
She wore
Black lipstick
Underwear and eyeliner
Like a wounded dog
Eyes sunk into a marsh
Looking out at nothing
As I sit and watch
Her loveless display
And wonder
Why she can’t be
What I picture
In my mind
Her *** is like a
Tiny sun
Swaying in the void
Warping gravity
Bending light
Fixing gazes
Earning dollars
I want to
Take her arms apart
And build her
A blue island
There is no one else
But me
Watching her
Loving her
With museum love
The way you love a
Picture
Or a concept
Knowing full well
What it isn’t

Your body now
Is like an ancient ocean
Full of strange life
& unfamiliar motion
Call me to rest
Down in the silt & salt
Among the primal patterns
Of your skin
Images of light
Bring me across the ages
To a face that I have seen
One trillion times
In dreams
Of nowhere
And of now
Your chest is
Like a wildfire
Feeding on the dark
Bring me down
Into the badlands
Of your fists
Send me snaking
Up your shattered cliffs
I’m painted well
Around your spiral
Wear me like a chain
And I’ll find all the ways
To move along your collar
& roll your bones
Around my brain
All the cobras
Of your hair
Waiting to be known
Your own inventions
What is shown
Take me to the
Forests of your eyes
& bury me
Beneath the tree of vines

Where the tangled images meet
& mercy spells defeat
For a time
Where hurried thoughts are stirring
Rushing out to greet
The open air
Intercepted by a demon
Who hungers for the mouth
That only speaks despair
There is a time for planning
There is a time of rest
The hour of no decision
Is the time that you like best
It is raining in the alleys
All the streetlights
Now are broken
You give to me your beauty
A humble winter token

like words
sold in churches
dissolved like a
communion wafer
on the tongue
of the infinite
like an
empty banquet
beneath a gothic arch
there is no conquering
it is the art
of no conquering
she said
and showed me
a bowl of fruit
some rotten
morsels in her ribcage
in the winter
parking lot
buick town car
we are riding across
the pavement of the east
and that’s the same ***
everyday he’s greedy
for my images
i keep them in the glovebox
with the receipts
i don’t look at him today
i can’t
see him in the mirrors
cutting up the scenery
something is misplaced
i’ve left it in
the bedroom
in the boxes
you are taking
down south
your precious hedge clippers
and crosby, stills
nash and young
do you really
need them?
down south
where they’ve got
horses
and go karts
and snakes
and tvs in their showers
and biscuits and gravy
and dust
and rodeo
and milk crates
and model ts
and model as
and all the other
so called
necessities
you say my cousin
my uncle
all are happy
your father
unknown as you are
unknown
this is what
is before me
he is closing
his eyes
and speaking:
“hana”
“dul”
“set”
repeat
“hana”
“dul”
“set”
it is the art
of no-conquering
he says
and smiles
beneath a ripped-out ceiling
beneath a vaulted space
return
he says
to breath
look through the images
he calls us
into our own bodies
into our own spaces
“hana”
“dul”
“set”
the absolute reality
he says
is where we are all god
“hana”
you shouldn’t be trying
to feel any certain way
“dul”
i came up with the idea
for flavored crust pizza
until those *******
at hungry howies
stole it
“set”
he is lighting a cigarette
she is pouring tea
she is taking off her underwear
“this world’s gonna keep on spinning”
“i wish i-“
“man i’mma get mine”
“aw **** it”
“no better than the man in the moon”
“need to get some new drywall in here”
“santa’s not cheap”
samsara
is
samsara
return to breath
“hana”
“dul”
“set”

The stench of stale tobacco
Has seeped into the plaster
In the time since my departure
The oven needs a washing
Noodle bits hang on the burner like time clings to itself
& memories unrelenting haunt me as I walk the hall
Where claws tore holes in carpet leading to your room
Where the bushes outside your window erupted under an unnatural sky
In the summer getting drunk on heat
Springtime turning into winter’s bones where banks of snow were catapulting
Cars in slow motion volleys of thought which showed
Something unutterable in their stillness
Hot tea shoveling that white Indian
Headdress of yours I found
Hung on the broken oil lamp now busted by some drunkard
As the springtime turned into windows
Sheltered neighbors in the spray-painted garage
And you never swept the floor
In the morning the cat would make it known
That he was only animal seeking freedom of the soul
And in time he and I would yowl in unison
Deliberately writing off those subtle energies
Too difficult to define in images
Met me halfway in the garden
Where your weeds and roses twist
With your hedges overgrown
& the grassy clover crickets
Uncut all year long
I want to clean your dishes
I want to sweep your floor
I want to vacuum up the crumbs we both left on the floor
I want to scrub the toilet and the sink
I want the smell of Lysol in my pores
I want the bleach to **** the mildew
I want to cultivate a habit
I want you to let me get to work
But you refuse my offer
As you light another smoke
& throw the pack to the floor
Your ash tray is overflowing

I don’t know where to start