eyes look out
waves of light
spin webs in limbs
a sunny side of the street gives shadows hats
exclamation
point
a yellow sweater folds
POEM
at this point in history
tremulous sweeps can be heard
by the now-defunct brooms
that have just this second become necessary
to the oncoming madness of the self
the self and its other
sets up conditions
a) as I said
b) as I take
c) as I get
music is in the makeup
at any minute arousing thoughts of flowers,
or lips that shape notes in conjunction
(like stars) with the tongue
the language times use to talk through the petals
so sweet the head shakes
the other meantimes, on a particular evening,
stares rocking in disbelief
not seeing the we for what it is without clothes
the he and she
leaving the door open to memories of nature
dynamite carried by swans
A GOOD NIGHT’S
a good night’s
sleep does wonders
for the disposition
disposes of sleep
supposes a desire
to wind up
and pitch curves
through a brain
curling like a
spring through landscape
a dream, like
a plane high
up complains to
a chair in
a hotel lobby
a convention enters
town and sweeps
past the speakers
in a gown
the speakers go
to supper, talk
awhile, go up
and go to
sleep amidst whooping
shrubs and small
comprehension-size animals
protectively colorated so
they don’t wake
if a toenail
like the halfmoon
hits the Hudson
of the window
do
they
worry
no
but
the
brain
is
a
funny
thing
WAITING SPOON
A round room
The flowers are in bloom
Sun blossoms the window
A low sound
The boom
Ray gun down
A found objection
The friend in a comb
Kills some in the town
A bone
AIR
tongue no spit tonight out
whistling between nerves
the peels urge governing bodies
without or from within
counting luckiness
the old gun back of my head
tasting of definiteness
hanging out and hanging around
seeing and being seen
going to sleep and waking
comings and goings
hello loneliness hello happiness hello
sweet caress I think I’m going to die
I LOVE YOU
I love you
So much
I’m beside myself
That’s the other me
Beside me
Passing into dust
Against the side
Of the beautiful girl
Coming to decide
I’m a beautiful woman
And maybe
I like myself I don’t
Like myself
Besides us
Passing into dust
Against the side
Of the we
We’re separated into
Something breezelike
Without guarantees
But whatever you are
That I feel home
And no getting away
From it or with anything
Without you
Everything’s everything
And me
(I can’t really
Speak for you)
Nothing in particular
No place, neither
SOMEBODY WANTS YOU
mental institutions that make it take it
easy
dressers with drawers with goals
in mind
custody built (nor those a) a shanty
behavior wrong by objective test
a desire to learn geography
a desire to plunge anywhere
particularly the personal worlds of congestion
in the ward together
for drama for conversational
play