a cage in the forest

tell the blind man there's
nothing to see


let the politicians

fuck your daughters


don't settle for the facts when

the truth is what really matters




don't worry about man ray

dead now for 30 years in
paris, and i still keep
waiting for his call




i stand on the edge of the

porch roof, next to the

hole in my house where the

light pours out




look






the days are shorter now

and all of my fears that much
closer to the surface

no amount of poetry will

ever cure cancer




no man who would ask for

your vote would
ever give you his in return




these are things to think about

while you watch dorothea
undress, and when she asks if

you love her, you should smile

without answering






you should

kiss her breasts




words aren't the enemy,

of course, but it's always

best to act as if they are

four ghosts

sleepwalking

knew him when he was dead,

early spring or late summer, town filled
with the stench of decay
 

a parade for jesus on some

bleachwhite saturday afternoon

flowers and virgins, senile old men

holding rifles, and what i remember is that i
could no longer remember which
century was mine

sat next to an open window

listening to freeway traffic, someone’s
girlfriend screaming in the second
story apartment across the
street, then laughing
 

almost midnight

july maybe, maybe october

birds with broken wings, angels

caught in branches, in nooses,
and politicians, and terrorists, and all of
them concerned with butchery and power

all of them concerned with

vengeance and he said fuck this

said let’s go find a bar and i

knew him to be dead and i knew him

had dated his sister had slept with

his wife and i said wait

i said the parade’s going to start soon

and he just smiled and shook his head

set fire to the house

pulled the trigger

something stupid and dramatic and the

girls on the floats were all
beautiful as they smiled into the sun