looking both ways
on my street with houses lining it
leading to more houses and dead ends
with front porches overlooking culdesacs,
culdesacs with front porches on dead ends
watching Letterman
no, Leno.
Leno gets a lot of ****
but he has his crowd,
and they all live on my street
leading to nowhere and culdesacs

where the road departs from your destination
you find The Wilderness Of Things…
we blunder into culdesacs and -
sacrosanct steeples; twisting balloons at the Fair
to resemble implosions in slow motion.
for a quid.

you’ll find books out there that keep dark secrets poorly
and adventures that baffle your brain pan.
and every twilight fissure in the world heart.
they rest on stoic end tables with noble dust
and green lanterns bowing to shadows.
You’ll find Others-
pilfering Silver
to buy golden calves
and cherry blossoms
for no reason.

for no reason
at all.

The same **** over and over.
Pull the gun and shoot the moon.
The parade walks by, 14 nickles, still it rains.
***** knees but God is a friend
Kneel to your master .
Sun,
It.
Kites in black culdesacs, winding.