BumsIJust for everything you've done.I want to live in the past.I want to go out there and meet the people whobreak down on some of those huddled traffic burdened streets—with dark and crouching scraping shadows of gangly skyscrapers—gangling in wind because of the wind—walking amidst too many people and over four foot squares of paved walkway separatedby lines—step on a crack and you'll break your mother's back—so forth down ways I haven't quite beenyet it is so large and in those crackssometimes are weeds cutdown by the trampling hooves of the great suited in black men and womenof the business world in this cityanywaysor the raggedy black man bum with a ribbed orange beanie cap,becoming grey stubble mixed with some blackthe way pubic beard of a black man sometimes grows sheathing his face all curly thinprobably the same on his headonly under the orange beanie thereisn't any way at all to tell so then wemust assume that is how he is unlesshe's straightened his hair
3 SonnetsThe RatHe wanted some to eat but only withFood which could just sustain his need forAll of the goodness of the rat and pith.On one dark day he decided to borea hole to the merc'less heat of the world.It was not complete in a day, so fora time twas sore, and what to heal? not cold.Our rat, sigh, flawed without the heat to storeor any fat to keep his body warm,was left alone tonight by the crone moon.Rat tried t'keep blood up, but to alarmas he lay cold, the sun came up to swoon.With one big warm face, in the fastest way,toil'd; with dark he'd not spend another day.The BirdThe lovely birds sing and paint on the wallBut only because they have lots of paint.So to that parakeet I gave a call"Ho, you! Bird! That paint is odd and too quaint!""I shall slaughter you with my BIG BAD BEAK!How dare you mock me and my quaint colour!As if you were a meandering snake,With all my might I'll squander your valor!""If you had eyes to be that I do seeYou would know that you are al
I see I amI see-I am-I see-I am-I see-I am an sesquipedalian.
LeafsWhat is a leaf when it lolls up on storm drainsor lulls up in the gutters? It is a sighing eminentfrom the start. It is the singing about the boughsAnd bushels in the trees on a wet, angry day.The leaf is a simple deliberation of its symbol, in thesalutitious and amiable wind, and in it's ownsolitary gloom, has begun an inquisitioninto the root of it's plan. A leaf is it's ownlonely man.
The PastureI - THE PASTUREThe traces of soot can be tasted in the mistAnd barbarians have been known to fleeThe tongues of air that taste the animalsAnd carry them to far, often, and away places.The sky night's sweat stifles the smellOn these Holy landscapes, and of themselves,Dream on blind horses running above rivers.They can eat the tall green grass or glideTheir heavy hooves hardly above a harlequin's dream to jest his king's court and exact his plan to appear aFool but to run like a horseAnd in the end be said, too, "neighIt is a fool's fortune to run without tireOr to neigh-say on a nice night 'the bungalow is dropping the bungalow is drooping O weary we of thechild's dream do we dance under the pale call of a yellow moon andunder the smells of the wind's wild breath…,'and are inebriated in shriveled Poseidon's salty wineunder the whine of the withering stone menwho can't walk under the stone weightof the stare of the sliding shock-headed snakes."The same men who wed Inf
Salt and SleepThe world is turning their lights out with their lipsTo the moon and their own wavy sun ray vision.It makes me think in the pit of my yearning stomachOf apocalypse, tic, toc, tic, toc,The end of the world comes before the end(When the world blows up we won\'t know itBut it\'s the fact we knew and knew all alongThat it was going to blow up)At the hand of the three sisters or the one mans,Or none but their own, or the forces of earthsNot of their own, or of their own disobedienceFrom father's punishment,After Sodom and Gomorrah,Sodomy's illegal in AmericaAnd golden copulations last only long enoughTo comeFor sin and drunken orgies to repent.Sleep is boring.The illusion of symmetry is as dizzying as perfect symmetry.Right before I decided to sleep I forgot I made that decision.When you roll out of bed you forget what's happenedBecause that is what has happened.That you won't have woken up.It's not fair.Bring your bread and wine and fish for the blessingBrings fat