day off

1.

Some men, myself, you, the folk concerned, between the islands
whose sister, westward hopes for him. Thick and much allowed
rapidly rotting like a fish, rowing our gently in pure sense, listens
too early in the day, old holdings as far as plenty, arrives at breakfast
call, on feet. Calls it out; the earth, the apple, the inward-outward
being, the mulch, already all that is merchandise, the sow, the sowing,
the space, the rocks, Ptolemy, the palette, the breastplate, the your,
yours the own hand and body in everything, so as birds and animals
make love, the decline from animals, the hunger in eyes, travels not
too far off into the wood and turns on its heel, celebrating nothing
sleeps, is one. Subject to feeding that night. You and the legs get
yrself caught.

In other moments my father is a landscape between me and my father.
I wait for him in the smoke, carrying blue-backs and lights.
The bay that time, clamming, young fuzz, salt lips to kiss with,
you were in a cage much larger than the one now, and the flight
has always been set. I dove under the water and swallow
sand and ancient parts. Sundays broke us. By the time I had nothing
but poetic sweethearts -- it was too often I had made an encounter
that simply, I could see myself using it as a literary device.
The order is hidden in my town so I walked over to the next and
watched snows drift, lapping each other in waves, clings to things
makes gentle sounds.

The sweethearts were as follows; woman of floating voices and large
car, the bridge crossings, dark emptiness between branches.
Clusters of flowers that scowl, upholstered van seats that vibrate.
You on the right of me where my arm could stretch out and cover
you across the metallic road southwest of home, through mountains
that didn't seem penetrable, up through the hills and the symphony
of flatland. We hit before the storm did. Under the false warmth
of the blanket, I got a taste of a different snow.

That morning I was sick and only sick. Of what I do not remember.


2.

She is unchanging   shades up so delicate
how long have I been a fool?
one last time in Philadelphia
revisited the air, country toward the river
never will I forget the face   of a year
at least three days, give me so much
of you, between arms
carrying on on the stoop

but enough of cut -- cut
what was he doing slamming drawers
in the frantic search of some remaining part of him
a measuring spoon with traces
his sister came into the room one night
where I laid still as a stone, some deep purple sleep
which had poisoned us, and he showed me the fruits of his mind

we were tough when it was good to be tough
and shy when nothing else seemed appropriate
a paper slips by, there behind the buildings was a green
solace to be grasped and by one hand we stroked the hell out of it
throwing up by the pass, some seed, some awful visage
that hung over, going hungry

clouds come from my mouth
as does tears


3.

In the big plate where we went out to steal
drink, eat, fester, outward by the grueling dog
who assumes we could talk to it
at the church I noticed the high arches
and the color of the corners of the casket
and the men, who did not weep, leapt into brisk action
by the watery streets I saw her and clenched my teeth
sometimes, I had attempted to make headway, but that
she did not weep bothered me, never once giving a damn about
her own consolation, no matter how stoic one could seem
poetic sweethearts, burnt hell-money, fish, black basement
in new york, cry for me, please, when much is gone and my poems
are yellowed. When gums are nothing, grass splits and horns
play.

Leave it down and give a cigarette at yr most vulnerable
state, to a local man w/ white hair, stopping to see
what's all up w/ the black, and the white, and the yellow.
Ramp of Broad St. ice way that caused another silly argument.
I am selfish and you are selfish. Together that made us friends.

I have a hot suspect, I got my eyes on one
I got the finger on the dial and I'm suddenly at the end
of a fast busy signal. When the calls come in I wait them away
holy mackerel!


4.

Be it that I often require a line
to give myself a-going, what does that say about
me as a writer? --That's tough.
It's indeed myself in the old poems,
when foolishly I gave myself -- too much of myself
to him, whatever names he possessed.
All the loves he had and at times, squandered
much of,
Again I go back to a place, which has been here long enough
laying on the fresh carpet w/ my cousin
now our chins grow long

chirps a laser out there n the field of all sound
and a rattle of the air that crescendos in tune with an engine
be this the engine that gets us through to noon
crooning, birds, all glory and smoke
tightened leaves where the two keys get stuck
in time, in all these times, in times, I get to it
now, and again, heaving myself in front of the typewriter
fluidly typing the top f the rusted brown tool shed
soundscape of overhead planes
the pool that s now emptied and without overnight guards
taps taps taps

and drips on each other, a note on the windshield
it comes towards you, the sound of staying still
but a trip is needed so much the text comes in at 8am
but I don't want to reply


5.

When? Give me, uh, hour . . . hour to a half-an-hour.
I'll be there at the pork, meat you there.
East-side. That's the 6th st side.
Throw me some bones, all of you. Who's got quarters?
Thanks, bud. Don't slam the door. Don't open the door
before the lock pops.

Remember when we buried the ball? There? Now where there
are flowers and dirt.

I prefer to listen to your sound and talk to you.
But I never travel, love. Not many people hand-write letters.
I am writing poems, today is my day off.
Are you working now? It is 12:45pm?

I am late, I'm sorry. Let's try and have a good sized pan.
I am always interested in the killer's motive.
Publicize me and make me successful.
Here's some love, in the form of an email.

Would you care for a glass? I could also use, hmm, about
half a cup for my scallopini.
Do you smoke before you write or do you just have a free mind?
I can't read nor write when I smoke -- can't focus.

I knew I was going to leave early, I never intended to eat
your dinner. I'm adding the veal to the pan, sir.
The boys at the lab got a fix on the poison.
It's a terrific poison.

From which I concluded, the answer was to get off my ass
and get off the computer. Here, love, read this,
swoon.