A Mint Left On The Pillow Not a cure, more of a ritual She’s got the curve of the moon from the ribcage to the thigh Serotonin levels off, Birds dropping down the tree branch by branch Leaves and blood, A final guffaw and twitch. Sitting patiently, waiting for the newness, The change, Thoughts not concurrent Let me sleep Shit mountain Thinking of Orlovsky, Giorno, Di Prima, Skyward. Come to think of it that bird was more than just another of the unlucky knocking on the door, It was a one-way conversation in a Cul De Sac To be had over and over again Till you are the one who speaks, Hoping someone else will listen/ --------------- You Like my Costume? Bought and sold at the same time I could be land, An island unto myself Belief in a speeding train that you have no control over The Switch, the brakeman, the geography of the track, The trouble with you is that you aren’t me We may share bodies, A bed… Split the checks What of the representation? I’m in a battle There are no soldiers, and there might not even be enemies, Just love and a sense of self sabotage. Per request of the darkest nether regions We are shutting the ride, We are becoming a monster One that you will question One that you will loathe, Then and only then will the war be won It’s not for you to understand, Just live through/with. ------------- Not Gambling Right Now My air conditioner wants to cool me down, Even in the winter… I do not remove it from it’s perch, I do not cover it from the world A proud man and his electronic wonder, Nodding at each other mornings and evenings Watching me write this ode… A guy who has run out of ideas, Talking to his appliances. ------------- Thick Skin How awake do you want me to be, love? I just tied one on and I’m at some brat’s birthday party The visor of cocaine and cognac, These folks… All cryogenically frozen within themselves I meet them in a park, They all shake hands, very masonic One exclaims that she’s “read my new shit…” Real dower, This might be it. If I don’t make it to the end of this poem I’m dead, or they’ve done it. The husbands gather around me Gawking like statuesque gargoyles on lifeless buildings Waiting to hear something prolific, We all just ogle each other “What’s for lunch?” I bellow “Tofu dogs and beyond burgers” thrown at me like a steel medicine ball. Well, I politely chugged my beer and walked away in silence. Went down to the bodega, “Bacon, Egg, and Cheese… Extra cheese.” My cellular going wild, I turn it off I returned to the park, walking right past the party I found a bench about a block from the atrocity There was quiet, There was reflection There was a beautiful day. How can you beat that? ----------------- Close The Book Crook neck Feet dangling over the shark tooth, Abundant in the lack of compassion Not trying to make up for it in any way You drive Italian countryside, Si. Si. I drive morning sex interlude from talk show weather dunces. A mixed drink always steadies the shooting hand 99-1 shots coming in at Aqueduct, Doing elective surgery on myself round 5PM. It all sets in, Maybe running on fumes is just a mountain range not to be moved. A learned man once died in my arms He didn’t say anything prophetic, Just gargled and shit himself That’s the extent of our knowledge, anyhow.