this is the perfect grey day
vomiting among the wild zinnias
secretly touching two apples
from savage height
invisible
in stratosphere
*** bare
****-tickled by static electricity
or an underfed spanish girl
hair permed
home alone

desperate spirit between my legs
dealing drugs in the garden to
a scorched lizard intent on creation

savage torpedo almost drowned
special noontime drunk
strange eyes filled
with tragic summertime dust
clothes chopped off delightfully
by car horns and lady-whistles
cigar smoke streams from cheek
clouds green on magenta leaf
aftertaste of lament
dissolving
on the kingdom of tongue

i only climbed down here to think
and hide
my own brown skin
and recover
from the sun
and read
my own poems
in the wealthy river
oil stained
denim jacket in my wake
yellow from the muddy gutters
dead dried palm trees
made into boat oars
against the white sun
high
and low
and, lo!

i got high again