A DREAM JERSEY

Summer ululating
We pass working travelers
Some that are used to the bar team
Walking skinny
I lose track
Flirtatious with a floppy hat
West girls from Mattell
A town
A sunny day wearing people
Jazzed
Joking in a dress
His dog touching his hand
It could be south
Could be girls
Square sun everyone together
The maybe couple
We all work there
E. mostly gathered with an older go to
Michael at Mattell
Toys going to a bar
More Brunswick than me
I'm up with Princeton
On the way to girls
The bar in a Kelly
The guy communally or whatever
An old bar of Marisa
And others of the sequence.

DARKAGE

A day
Blue paint
All these memory blots
The way a sky and its shade
How impossible disturbances
Keep me up
Keep me toasting your image
Zahir
Already gone
But I'm stuck
Like vinyl with a worn groove
Ascension
Lock John forever
Balloons pumped full of lethargy
Everyone needs a seat
I'm a down bottle
Chock full of tequila
But I'm off the sauce
After I leave the bar
First thing, stop the talking
An embarrassment of riches
Zahir
Could be a coin
But your visage
Savage beyond teeth
The green blastula timers
The hopeless
It all started
This violent anarchy
My shake of resolution
Omphalos
My middle name that you can't say
Tables
How moments purpling
Not knowing
Obfuscate
Please darling don't be so dear
That's what crying's for
This precision has wounded me
I'll heal now
I promise
An energy full homespun
The lock in vision
You never call me mister
I'll never call fear
What it comes
This flutter
Remembering worse
Let it shatter

BLESSED CONTINENT OF AVALOAKITSVERA

Resin got ink
Fingerprint on a love story
The rattle
My dental
A ride pocket
How the powder
I'm steely in this retrograde
Lost
Squander all these trees
My visions
The Virgin who lifted had no bail
Nivrana in parking sentence
Take this conviction
No yellow
Wet as a railroad site
Please Mister Monk
Play Ruby for me
Where the hoboes
Russians looking for work
Me on a Chechen
I'm past tired now
Past Margaret on a thin smile
I'll use all this extra charm
I'll use it on a dime
No more interrogative
No more silt behind the question
Wash it, Margaret
These fields full of degenerate poppies
My arm beyond the law
Nothing
Nada
I'm the great hot fevers and frogs
Take this forgotten book of miracles
Hide
My notes to the outreach
In the bus depot where the blood
The soul is a debt
Don't spell it death
Remember these words

FRANZ KAFKA

1.
I am so manipulated and so ruthlessly clear in my being that I find I am a citizen of the world. Franz Kafka and I were drinking absinthe in Paris because we couldn’t find a nightclub on the Lower East Side where it was legal. It used to not matter what was legal in that neighborhood. I remember going there and copping heroin. The lines of people outside the faux grocery stores and the faux Laundromats were patrolled by cops on the take. You could get a junky escort past Avenue B. No tip was required because he got paid by the drug dealer.

2.
Sex sells. There’s nothing to buy. Every illusion that threatens to take us out of this boredom is a lie. We lie to ourselves about our deaths. I was drinking margaritas last night in a Mexican restaurant, pretending I was never going to die. I got so drunk, I missed my train, fell asleep in Penn Station. I woke up when they announced.

3.
There’s no poetry. I used to think poetry would save me from these lies, all this sex that stays in my head. Instead I’ve sold myself as I sit around bored and hoping there’s some kind of entertainment. I have always felt that way: watching Dead End kids or Bugs Bunny when I was young. Now I can’t even meditate or exercise. I’m depressed and the funny part is that being depressed makes sense.