Saturday, November 12, 2016




okay so white
plains i’ve seen
your trees aching
like some carpenter’s
unfinished business

this gravity’s afterthoughts
sliding toward the hudson
(that’s a river)
the ice mask of your rock faces
danger

failing some dope view
from fart coffin tower
this broadway stretches
its rubberneck

*cough&*

how is who a hamilton
& what are frogs

how to get a-
heads don’t talk to one another
and so form no center
of no owned universe

starburst and feminine hygiene
i swear

the front seat bickering of these drivers

leaves me tired
and roadside

empty wallet’d and an open mouthed

in yawns dreams of beach street
some vagabond refu(g)(s)ee

your seasick sailors are nailing it to the church
doors at 7:30?  8?

what horton hears is not a who
but steep and winded
cellar steps

dry rot near the mrs.
in the countryside

adheres not at
all to these code

if i shudder ‘neath these lamps
and hold still still breathing easy

what dreams
what bests will come
to feed upon
the beast of me





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