small cheap rooms where you walk
down the hall to the
bathroom can seem romantic to
a young writer.
even the rejection slips are
amusing because you are sure that
you are
one of the best.

but while sitting there
looking across the room
at the portable typer
waiting for you on the table
you are really
in a sense
insane

as you wait for
one more night to arrive to sit and
type Immortal Words--but now you
just sit and think about it
on your first afternoon in a strange city.

looking over at the door you
almost
expect a beautiful woman to walk in.

being young
helps get you through
many senseless and terrible
days.

being old
does
too.

What is the head
                         a. Ash
What are the eyes
                         a. The wells have fallen in and have
                              Inhabitants
What are the feet
                         a. Thumbs left after the auction
No what are the feet
                         a. Under them the impossible road is moving
                              Down which the broken necked mice push
                              ***** of blood with their noses
What is the tongue
                         a. The black coat that fell off the wall
                              With sleeves trying to say something
What are the hands
                         a. Paid
No what are the hands
                         a. Climbing back down the museum wall
                              To their ancestors the extinct shrews that will
                              Have left a message
What is the silence
                        a. As though it had a right to more
Who are the compatriots
                        a. They make the stars of bone