My hands are not shaking
they leave, and
I can assure you they do,
but only for a moment
this moment, when I am unsure
I am very unsure
of anything else
so violently beautiful
corsets of steel bearings
that hold together
that hold the highway over
that river.
We may even be carried home,
by these little bugs
that are swept into blue highway
and never have to do anything
ever,
and we will be held
to that conviction.
Now, while right now
they do not come
they may.
This is why it makes perfect sense
that I have hid from you
but I cannot hide.
I note two beetles fighting over
a brush of dead grass
they hold each other
and they look as if they are playing
but I am unsure.
I feel crowded.
Something in the air raises
and she hears me across the city.
But ignore that sound.
I acted like a child
when she forgave my hands.
We walked in the street
men in the windows
and in the wake of her legs
I joked about eating
unshaven pomegranates,
I can invent that morning so well
when I walked with her home
and I pushed her hair west to
learn how hands can beg.
I was Dylan. She was Suze.
But what is the six o’clock sun?
Now that there is no snow here
and every gladioli lives, reluctant
that I had not met you sooner.
I do not know why it was her
talking to you now in the night shade
of your porch,
and it really is a shame that
we wake up in different parts of the city,
offended by the glare in the window
every morning.
Ideal painted branches covering everything and
while Carver will never be the West Village
I can hold on to your arm
sometime soon and look down,
We can adapt, you
who I should have known would come
And every woman who lives in a southern town
with the eyes of my mother
that I have not had the pleasure of knowing.
We all could stutter our legs
down past the first second lovely bird.
But it is never you.
I have always stumbled,
afraid of my own two feet
wanting angels
to twist my head only toward moonlight.
My head does not know
the body that moves it.
I grab hold of the shade
of her body that is desire.
Should I grow fearful of myself, wanting, if you will—
that light, through the window, that we both observe now?
In mourning, we watch golden girls walk slowly outside.
Their feet light, you laugh and lay on me—we listen to
Poncho & Lefty, and we know, neither of us hurt like
poor Poncho. But I look at you, and feel I deserve more
of the dust. I abuse you. I rub my hand down your leg.
I have insulted you a hundred times, and it persists.
You adjust yourself and I blame you for Poncho’s death,
taking your hair, and watching the shades in morning air
shaking from vents on the floor. We make use of our hands.
I hardly feel deserving of his inheritance. Not when I
treat you so terribly, without even knowing, grasping
the slight of your ankle. You used to be repulsed by me.
I hear the base of your foot with my palm—and
you forgive me, when you shouldn’t have
by smiling, and saying that I tickle you.
don’t come home
let me keep wet
on my window
from the rain,
and let me
swallow the
light from my
fixture until
i choke on its
coruscations.
there are other
people in this
world, you know.
be considerate.
let me hold
the illusion
that i am alone
God bless the bird
he says—
there is weight.
I watch
this woman
I do not know.
There is weight in that too.
She puts on a yellow
scarf, and she is laughing
when a man, in a cheap suit
that will stay cheap—
says, Ladies! Ladies!
They inherit weight.
More often than not, I feel
underdressed. Sometimes
I am naked. They can see me
under heavy street light and
their clean—in this town shoes
shine themselves, and watch
passer bys for their sense
of humor—
“he must be
playing a joke”
They say.
Should I grow fearful of myself, wanting, if you will—
that light, through the window, that we both observe now?
In mourning, we watch golden girls walk slowly outside.
Their feet light, you laugh and lay on me—we listen to
Poncho & Lefty, and we know, neither of us hurt like
this poor Poncho. But I look at you, and feel I deserve more.
You adjust yourself and I blame you for everything.
But I hardly feel deserving of this light. Not when I treat you
so terribly, without even knowing, grasping the slight of
your ankle. I hear the base of your foot with my palm—
& you unknowingly forgive me when you shouldn’t have,
by smiling and saying that I tickle you.
She is dressed neatly
in dark uniform
as if she
is leaving
quite soon.
Her hair is like wheat—
order, order
1923,
a love-
ly light eats to the
ground and crawls
towards east bay,
luminately.
Damyata: but I am
not so sure
our hearts
respond well to
control of our body
and arms—
a thousand hands raise
in approval
of my confusion.
Is it awful
to want anything
to happen?
To invade a
nice home with
your dress—you
don’t wear a dress
but I mean, the way
the way you dress
is nice. Ok that’s
not really important,
but don’t think I didn’t
see you consider
me with yr eyes
off swinging yr hair
yr body, it often considers
me, I am presumptuous
and a drunk—so many things
but this does not invalidate me.
This makes me invincible.
Ok, I’m a man, I’m horrible
because I just gave another
man advice about women.
I haven’t really done that
before but now I just feel
like a complete asshole.
Ok, I think I’m rambling,
but all I told him
was to not be invasive
and I think that is
an ok rule for anybody.
It is ok to want someone really bad.
I don’t think there is anything wrong
with that.
I sit in my room
and make up the news,
the light pretends
to flicker and I think
what it would be like
if they went out,
and wish that they did.
But they will stay on
and the faucet will
not leak into a drum
and this ceiling
wont fall apart and
open the sky.
This roof is taut over
me while I search
for a comfortable
spot on my floor.
We were in a room
with wood floors
and yes—I looked
at your legs, eyes more
important than your legs
and yes, eyes invade
and do harm.
The maoist says
bourgeois a lot
and hegemony.
I know I can commit
crimes with my eyes
yet you survive.
There are some things
no matter how hard
the capitalist tries to
pervade, they will fail.
Such as, your legs.
They do not invade
your legs—at least
not tonight.
Tell me how to watch,
I want to be told.
I hope I can accomplish
a healthy watching,
as you twist your
legs wonderfully
over one another,
I don’t look at you
as you walk into
the kitchen.
