Down Town

"Lost and safe"

Almost blooms ride bikes
wear down shoes
with paper sleeves,
knees rubbed known,
smile
on by as parade balloons
blocked streets:
graffiti peck upon foreheads.
Lemon drop
shadows entice,
made most mostly of dust.


Rundowns ask for lighters
set fires, so and “she”
him impart cues with
flicks
of the wrist;
watch to what heights this
homelessness—afternoon
delight with a doberman
gentle drop—
bears a resemblance
to empty spots in photo books.

Come senses scrape
knee &
curl nec k bac k isses
About neck
thro ugh untied noose
body noodled
ragdolled dolledup Esp
ecially we
t a ‘round’ da muskrat
to o lured
two do oils ejaculate
hits short

1, 2, 3

With about a box to-go, and coney island sets,

about a wall there rests some remains of the

second, or third to last, of my days: two teacup

kittens and a lion hung from its neck, a collage of

pigeons and limbs (a seashell resembling

its face) and grey, all grey imposed a white

wash slip; two months behind, again, three

times I repeat myself when I wish to be heard (this,

too, is a fragment pinned and crawls along the wall),

my favorite, then: an ex-lover manifesto hides

a banana which smiles, but through his hands

blue smeared marks and dead pots above the fridge,

then a fake bird juts out from a dead forest dry

on my empty dresser. Two animal heads upon the bed,

and finally a printer.

Love is

Love is unknown to a Morning Dove,
Unwanted by a wanton boy in lust,
Unneeded at the knees with a ring,
Unforgotten in the smallest of things.

The Greatest Gift Hit My Eye

Gaily (would bark?) my love a-tumbling down a wished well—starch
skin, stark:
naked loose leaf
oblong scribbled in dark.
A Turner turned over onside towards winter-numb

thumbs pressed against, stainless volt; from, or after the meal starts,
Trembling tarts
the oval eye rips ripples
(as you were) a splotch,
—danced, goes my line mumbles nothings as signs above a dot.

Birthday lists (firsts of many I’s) notebooks pile higher, adored and
mounts: moans
us (masquerade a busily boy)
with horns as Beelzebub
around a thorn bush kept secretly as pressed to mourn;

a speck about the milky white—which alter? Why, with much
fortune falters
site: imperfect device
in negatives the nightness scolders—
my lens no more as torn by a BB or foam flown inside; order.

word.

There is no fear here
ittybitty blondebird

you will perch
again as meaning

does upon a
word.

D no

Wotton mirror, our marriage
as a playnside amidupon his
mistris, the bohemian queen
like nevereverland—wood—
you (framed) ring around the
faggot tree? Nutsnbolts stripped
like a slutty trunk cut too short
toward s the knees. We dis agree.