Gathering independence all private-like
in my room
Still hanging out with a paradise I stole
As a young boy
Panties from a babysitter's drawer
Years and years ago.
Black satin and a fake pearl.
Genitals, the moon
A window on the ugly city
performing it's own oblivion
It's starting again and again
We hold out like an audience
hoping for a good cry

No spell enters me and
No dick, no eyes, no art
All is deflected
By my new diet of weeds, dried meat
Silence and the blood of beet
Every poet in the big book of poems
Dreams of such meager angel food
Poem: Chisel, yearn, enchant.

I walk out every now and then
on the sleeping waifs
And onward to the disinterested realms
silence on the back roads of forever
It is not so serious actually
I was looking for flowers and birds
living in meadows. Even
When death passed me by
on wheels of rotten bones
It was not serious
I called out
"business in town?"
I glanced over to shapes of society
And saw its steeples of time


This body, a wandering rooftop in time finds
crossroads beneath the seasons beautiful