xlix

I’m not a cut-up, grandfather
I’m Water in the town of
I’m Bowling no
recruiting for an accounting firm
outside (outside!) the sun actually
I’m reading poems and when
I finish I will eliminate everyone
just to say hello to write names
Reason’s Bridges So Literal
but hey, I dropped by
the trees were down all over
who’s following art whose
moon is a cold day stolen
to lose my voice the wind
has been whipping (whipping!)
this poem is dedicated to
this mug that hasn’t seen its
day in two point five years
today I feel cheesy and fake
but he snores, too
I’m Charlotte
I’m Winsome in the stucco sheets
I’ve got five more candidates
I’m gonna take off my jacket and tie
and walk around downtown

xlviii

While I’m telephoned
Shook by accident
Had a bit of a tough
Jumped cloudfrog
And apologized
Of Uncertainty
Went to Cleveland
One window     Blinds drawn
One window     Blinds 3/4 drawn
The greatest couple
All the birds flying
Into a yellow bucket
My burger
Is now cobbler

xlvii

The hummingbirds fly in from over the rooftop
across the courtyard, coming down from Nob Hill.
I’m at the cafe in Spring Meadows, waiting. Or
I am not happy at the Bavarian Brewing Company
(the sky’s a bruise, Hotel Huntington bruised it).
He sends me a shot from the movie (“just like snow”)
but isn’t giving me anywhere near the security
(“I guess I’m just...I hate it...only the office knows”).
I marched myself up the hill (“Look! The birds!”)
and into the cathedral. She nods her head and
immediately says “yes” (but she did turn red).
Wait, the birds are now snowflakes. The blue-
jacketed man on the roof is an acrobat. These
are the kinds of events that change my whole
attitude about things.

xlvi

Well, now I seem to be a
different person who is
melting like a snowman
when I look at your forehead.
No, when I lick your forehead.
I suppose we can say
it was very much a success!
Roll over on top of me!
No, roll over and I’ll climb on top of you
and watch the mole on
the back of your ear next to
that inexplicable crease!
My teaching is going well.
Saturday it’s my 3rd real week
and I’ve agreed to help the Girl Scouts.
Now you’ve awoken.
You’ve awoken and I’m reading
Chelsea Girls but you get my attention.
That will be $50.
I do NOT remember this!
Come here, you’re getting real bad.
I think this is love.

xlv

We haven’t talked about anything serious.

And here’s David Lynch where the bugs make

so much noise. It’s the opening of a guaranteed

cure for boredom. One night I asked him,

“Are you going to stay with me?” and he said yes,

and then the camera bored into the earth.

Now it’s all stopped. Now,

the camera hesitates before a Camel hard pack.

I’m attempting to answer one final time, and

have sent one thousand pages to the left.

I know I must have patience and, unfortunately,

my best attitude has gotten lost in the scenery:

a verdant backdrop with, perhaps, a dead bird.

I’m so sad about the angel.

xliv

What you think I am revving up to write?
More or less bleat like a wool cardigan
(tan with red trim)?
Whistle like a viola for the theatre?
Sputter and I’m getting paid for it?
The words of Mr. Atomic?
What what is that on your chin edible
like home turf for the tongue a tongue lawn?
How to find the work you love?

Which means I guess that I’m not a wool cardigan!
That the angel
has already had his moment!
Am I revving up enough with the questions,
the drama of donuts, of couches, of lemons, of birds
that I’ll perhaps never realize them?

xliii

why has the angel finished these these
conversations about the lions last night
these wonderful lions last night we wrapped
they seemed more more hot than hot chips

last night’s village host I partied was fantastic
the party everyone loved the hush of it
we slept in whirlpools like water urchins
everyone loved last night it was here several

times and I called him home and paradise
with so much bawling at the sight of
Dunkin Donuts I gave in on the couch as an
angel of the dead moon uses his last money

is there no more than anything we wanted
nearby in the plastic snow beside the real well

xlii

last night’s blood orange
a jubilation wound up
in jest a dreamer
of such and such habit
who must from
the auburn grave
come winding into
buttercups of the past

the canyon eagles fly
to his house where a
pulsating party gives birth
he hustles me more divinely
and now has gone back to the trees

I owe confession
these lemons once
and a saint lounging in a comf-

oranges of shaken nights
get longer as the sun dawdles
flaming red beside a garbage—

flare of the frozen apples
whether northerly the music
of weeds rising
no it is the milk of the stars
it is water under a bridge
where it runs

I have lived more
than he called me
have given unto phones
around the neck
a blushy thrust divinely consum-

fortuna-
stranger than our mothers
the summer after I knew I was just
using the memory of your blood

xli

he says he hasn’t given up at some point
too many poems know I should be focusing
on the drive to Detroit     or on the
poems on Sutter Street where first I’m still in

love     we do sleep with each other incredibly
now that the laundry is finished I explain
150 pages of Kyoto with a $50 bill
today I’m going to

today I’m going to drive to Ann Arbor
and enjoy myself     run 2.5 miles
and in the future if my efforts (after hesitation)
to teach poetry is feeling the heat

xl

what can I say to you like Jack says the
perfect poem has an infinitely small vocabulary
it’s difficult for me to muster enough

my magazines lie all over the floor and
your concerns about our problems are legitimate
but I have to close all the windows it’s

gotten too cold
we dance around whoever we are and all
the radios send me Happy Halloween-o-grams

about our problems the real issues could be
good together like putting a muzzle on the air
I did not say this and am happy about it

let me tell you that I know that we can
work things out into the ocean that Jack wants to
yell onto

seriously at giving it a try wholeheartedly
the mountain that I climbed would have to
bring me poundcake or because I can feel

no no no
I can do the love you have for me I can
try eliminating the love because you have me to

xxxix

I thought of my new favorite lunch earlier

there were white hangers one two three four five

and all the senior citizens of Halloween and Spicer

being gay is such a big part of my life in a flashy bar

with many make-up artists turning blue boxes into witches

one two three virginity

anyway my bean soup just arrived

and the black telephone is looking at me it’s very hot

three candles on top of the blue boxes marooned

he wants to fly me down to Philadelphia

I’ve also never seen so many green witches in one day

he shaves his chest scratchy which is not a good thing

my stuffed pup and black cat from Halloweens past

are looking at me like I’ve done something wrong

xxxviii

I woke up at 4am having to wake myself up

I don’t like it always to be a success

because I perpetually do this to myself

so chances are he’s there and is just not answering the door

are there butterflies in the moonlight

we don’t know the answer to that question

would you recommend blasting this bad mood

so I grill a cheese sandwich in my very own kitchen

but I’m also worried because when I called him

we made a date for No Name Sushi

he has call waiting

what a dingbat I can be

whatever sleep is

maybe he’s in there maybe he’s not

xxxvii

Bill Knapp’s bounce-out
an ultimatum he can’t muster
the radiator boy he changes
shove off smooth Masonic
a puppy dog right
bird on an antenna right
I’m going to

xxxvi

the piles of things on plates were so lavish
at the zoo that at one point I just took a seat
by myself next to the cages I CAN’T LOOK
the angels take forever trying to evaluate
a leaf folded over beside a chopstick
I think it’s just their way to dragon around
the bleachers with piles of brewed feelings
with an air of little parachutes of lemons
the limited chandeliers on their faces
cover plates of chopped lips          sheesh
the circumstances of the weekend have been
such that you are a limited coward
the main point is that I’ve been shadowy
I take out my Chapstick next to this
weekend of loss that has overwhelmed me
so as usual I act natural and eat my
magical orange over a plate of chopsticks
you know sometimes it all makes sense
something too spicy and too attractive is just so
horrible that the best thing to do is
to lose this awful sense of loss
he misses me and he loves me to death


first published in can we have our ball back?

xxxv

I’m better these last two days
except jealous to see them together
they look so good hooking up

after my rehearsal where they
lick on each other for hours
no I mean hours

fuck man writing makes sense
think about it and reminisce
it counters this huge coldness

with a capacity for extreme confidence
it’s not just a charmer but it
has poise

oh to be a big lunk
and sit on disaster and
never end up feeling

why does that big sign have to be so bright


first published in can we have our ball back?

xxxiv

I don’t believe a minute that it hurts
but he walked out the door I gave him

what a false sense of relief
even though I have to be the kind of

person can’t handle this stuff
there’s a word for it like supermuffin

he ties his hair up with my underpants
and I lose everything about myself

it just happens
then he tears my head down into little smokes

and I have to go and do stupid things
like call him up in the middle of the night

it’s a fascination with leather
I’d rather not have

in the elevator we kiss like
angel jailbait and then I walk

out of the party into the night
where I personally know the cockeyed moon

it’s telling me something
force yourself to concentrate

it’s an oracle that cockeyed moon


first published in can we have our ball back?

xxxiii

Yesterday I had an actual date.
I kissed him all the way through

the movie. Let’s see, I met him at
Gratzi. We walked down the street

with the small sidewalks. Which kind
of wrecked my nerves. After a drink

and some cheap dinner, we rented a
movie. We just walked around.

I tried to take him to the arboretum,
but we never made it there. The moon

was full, seriously, and the city so
quiet. It was a place I’d never been

before. No previous memories.
I was nervous. He sat back against the

wall, smartly looking up at the ceiling,
and I couldn’t take my eyes off his

face. His olive jacket, his hair in a way
that I’d never seen. It was very unique.

A million strange things went through my
mind. I finally had to ask for a fork.

I love the way he takes apart his
sandwiches. He left me a message

saying that it was all so very nice. Trying
to remember it, I took out my diary.

After lunch, I’ll probably go to the
water tower to learn some more of my lines.

xxxii

suppose I figure
what we’ve done here
rental a movie and
house to the feet
where in love
hits a little cart
before a horse
or hits snow more
like a role in the hay
hee hee was only
too wreak
that I had the leash
whatever-his-name
driveth me to the couch
where I crashes
he had nice linens though
some sort of
amazing comforter
hive under it during
a tender moment
that wasn’t so mine
it was the cowboy’s
own cold hands
a cigarette that
worms his heart

xxxi

at the Hotel Huntington people take
Cheetos out of their pockets
I’m having tea again
in a presspot at Grace Cathedral
where the fisticuffs are radishing
wait three minutes then press and pour
the board meeting was tender
and rehearsal was okay
see one of those sentences and it’s hopeless
like single file the orange clouds
again and forever
fart on the floor’s clean bed
belly-button lint check
just can’t seem to make anything
work as a diversion
slipped a rocker
waved my frog
blah blah fucking blah

xxx

what a peaceful surprise this is
solitude with a backdrop of
last night’s movie and dance
like entropy enhanced by that
song over the loudspeakers
here’s three men I look into
what do I see in this one
I’m with him (a hummingbird)
my eyes it’s been church bells
not just the sound of them
like longhorns belching a clean
medley whilst chewing cud
nor the sheer terror of a good
horror flick (don’t answer)
all my nights I guess I’ll go
but make this heartfelt
and Sunday quiet
okay one more try
if he’s sleeping with his
little frog turned on I could
crawl in take him unawares
wipe the sleep from his eyes

xxix

he says it probably isn’t cancer
that’s off to a good start at least
he called and we made movie plans
he’ll probably continue to ignore me
the cat was singing into my telephone
she has found a new home on the
shelf next to the courtyard window
I sure hope things go well there
she was singing so nicely I couldn’t
think of that prospect for a moment

xxviii

works very well
no phone
whatever he wants
honestly
what a dumb thing
for us
boy that stunk
miserable rotten
solid cornerstone
foremost any self
okay I can do this
look how fucked it is
that love always trees
don’t fall down
less than one
whispers
some control
try to clean it up
to absolute shreds