We see the stars, that twinkle
That´s our impotence that,
we can´t see the stars that doesn´t twinkle
but they exist.
They exist in that dark universe
lightening their surrounding.
There comes a certain time for star, to
twinkle for universe,
but not every star has that potential.

and yea I am a star,
and I am fan of myself.

Body of a woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like a world, lying in surrender.
My rough peasant's body digs in you
and makes the son leap from the depth of the earth.

I was lone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me,
and nigh swamped me with its crushing invasion.
To survive myself I forged you like a weapon,
like an arrow in my bow, a stone in my sling.

But the hour of vengeance falls, and I love you.
Body of skin, of moss, of eager and firm milk.
Oh the goblets of the breast! Oh the eyes of absence!
Oh the roses of the *****! Oh your voice, slow and sad!

Body of my woman, I will persist in your grace.
My thirst, my boundless desire, my shifting road!
Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows
and weariness follows, and the infinite ache.

the lady has me temporarily off the bottle
and now the pecker stands up
better.
however, things change overnight--
instead of listening to Shostakovich and
Mozart through a smeared haze of smoke
the nights change, new
complexities:
we drive to Baskin-Robbins,
31 flavors:
Rocky Road, Bubble Gum, Apricot Ice, Strawberry
Cheesecake, Chocolate Mint...

we park outside and look at icecream
people
a very healthy and satisfied people,
nary a potential suicide in sight
(they probably even vote)
and I tell her
"what if the boys saw me go in there? suppose they
find out I'm going in for a walnut peach sundae?"
"come on, chicken," she laughs and we go in
and stand with the icecream people.
none of them are cursing or threatening
the clerks.
there seem to be no hangovers or
grievances.
I am alarmed at the placid and calm wave
that flows about. I feel like a ***** in a
beauty contest. we finally get our sundaes and
sit in the car and eat them.

I must admit they are quite good. a curious new
world. (all my friends tell me I am looking
better. "you're looking good, man, we thought you
were going to die there for a while...")
--those 4,500 dark nights, the jails, the
hospitals...

and later that night
there is use for the pecker, use for
love, and it is glorious,
long and true,
and afterwards we speak of easy things;
our heads by the open window with the moonlight
looking through, we sleep in each other's
arms.

the icecream people make me feel good,
inside and out.

~

I have stood on aging avenues
watching walls crumble
while destiny’s debris
collects
at my feet

pieces of the past?

I have heard the laughter of babies
and the wail of the homeless,
opposites in a
straight line of
what is
and what might be

voices of the future?

I have stared into the portals of
left over meanings,
methodically
laid out to rest
on long tables
of bad intents

visions cast of shadows?

I have knelt before a dream,
clutching my chest
with indecision,
the pain
a reminder of my
fragile heart-
opened

memories of lost love?

I have cried
without a witness,
empty streams of
dense forgiveness,
requested of no one
and answered by the same

and nothing remains?