Report
Things budge, lumber on. Old shoes crawl from ditches. Children walk beside them abandoning their youth. None of it new, none of it the same; in her dreaming forest a woman turns to a wall where snake heads poke out like flowers. Deflated politicians plan tomorrow. Sad accordions cry in the dawn. I cannot say where anything will end. How many times I am amazed! The hand putting balm into the breeze swells the news paper vendor’s face blue black red How many times things converge and fly away! Joy and sadness like birds light down. New jokes new heroes hang around the corners.
The In & Out
I go now to my money work where I must turn my head around and turn my ears & eyes inside and speak with some conviction Concerning a warehouse with 6600 square feet NW, dock & evenings 368- 6 6 78 . . . politely and always aware of time that gets into figures parenthesis, adjustments: I praise the people for their perseverance in matters un knownst un connected I sing the caffeine Blues (ah! Lark!) In front of me on the sidewalk my shadow leaps like a crow and flaps and loves A rose
Journey Of The Eyes
1. He shit so hard his eyes fell out. It left him unimportant, a bag of flesh without a word of explanation save the wind that whistled up him as they laid him on the lawn. But the eyes still saw down great pipes to the river whose mouth opened into the ocean and all. They saw a city glow like God between two rows of mountains. Birds flew from the mountains and saw the eyes below. 2. Inside the belly of the bird an eye slept or woke to see through the beak to the sky whose complexion was purple as the bruise on the leg of a woman or the face of a man whose friends have beat senseless and left on the doorstep to dismay his children.
