McCarren Park #17
The trees are all like tada! but that’s their only trick
unless the wind comes with its slurry of dance moves I walk
straight home a dutiful verb reverberating
pushing no-name islands further into the ether With my remote
tongue i can’t help but kiss everything
out of touch With reality & especially lipstick
you have to wipe the corners to make the look work
When pieces of the apocalypse would slip out of our pockets
your perfume was pure ridicule ylang ylang getting away
from you with murder sailing choppily into the gurgling flesh
of my stomach All awash & thrown up so it was a wash
after all The clouds will go back underground
forming bands & i’ll only hear about them years later
as the memories of cool friends who made
a cameo appearance on the grid to say what’s up
With the trees i’m guessing there’s a kind of explosive homage
being paid (“Atten-tion!”) A toast to new constellations
Thanks for the Memoirs
I’m going to stay inside
Tonight is a way of saying thank you
to our survival of today Let’s make a toast toaster
to all of the ingredients we don’t need
to laughter riding the tricycle to the sexed-up flowers
Trying so hard to impress you i’ve lost all sense of myself-
less nature A cold robot hand massaging
My temples these giant empty rooms people take off their shoes in
The wandering in is an art that’s hard to critique
without a paintbrush Yellow gold green
the colors are in size order but the rainbow can’t see
(Me whispering to a distant place i found in a book)
A few answers to no question in particular
Yellow gold green the sun changes its mind sometimes
just because it’s on fire Doesn’t mean I’m gonna save it
These circus eyes are distracted photons carrying too much
cotton candy For the costume party i’m going to be me