Two Poems

from Letters to People I Have Known

Sephaly, It is 2:25 pm before long it will be night again and the screaming red birds will come back to my dream state. people fade with burned signatures sugar themselves not even associates               me When I Was When I was Young, my toes Would ache, My heart would be on Fire. I took notes In a city of glass. Early splinters of light Through sky scrapers, Cubist forms. Now it is rush hour, a roomful Of us lying fetal and silent Listen to your voice. Pericardium Lace agate                  still Stale Como                cupcakes Ancestor “I don’t want to buy anything, sell anything or process anything as a career. I don’t want to sell anything bought or processed, buy anything sold or processed or process anything sold or bought.” Still There is almost no noise. Portals Smell of wind, face On the edge of the blanket—       all around it is nothing Nowhere familiar (space w/out location)   (or objects to grasp on to ) Winter blossoms: Lou Reed sings, “What comes is better than what came before.” Chan Marshall (Cat Power) sings the same song, “Come come come to me. . .” (Voodoo) It is an old friend come walking through the centuries of rain To visit you To locate you On this sphere in the fog Via portal, a long walk or Public transportation Busses in my dreams Carry us through the night Hello, it is an old friend come walking through the centuries of rain To visit you II. Press my body against a window Still running Marshes Dripping darkness forests Races in labyrinthine underground tunnels With your mother Through hourless (electrical) cities Chasing busses And power lines Swirling cars and angry make-up ladies Tattoo faced street kids on a rooftop island Make make make-up, your mind. Motive unclear unfurled Underneath hours And glasses Wine stains Windows Subway trains stuck in dark tunnels Underneath our skin Our   “I” Is what is what. What that you heard them they say in the pipes with hot water The people drill 500 feet deep for Close close close them eyes You heard me when I accidently smiled across the room And responded with a handshake three hours later and one floor higher. Your hand cold, like mine From the rain outside Your voice smooth, letters shaped so articulately. How many fantasies Do we have of lovers Strangers welcomed into our fields for a brief glance and a handshake. Naked but for water. Windowless Naked Detroit river Gushes (Supple breasts settlers, homesteaders, one legged pioneers. Native Americans, healing seekers Sucker searchers elk deer New age tabla players, ayurvedic astrologers, Wounded soldiers, homeless wayfarers, recovering anorexic junkies, Juice freaks, wonky eyed stiff necked holy rollers.) Hardworking lop-sided young men hoist and weld pipes Into the rainy northwest night Heading 500 feet deep into the earth’s surface Leaks Leach (Suggest boats) To run a liquid through As ashes To be removed             The solutions Conduct, direct, escort The distance one is ready to run . . . . . . The next time Winged heels Crooked mouths (A certain hotel sheets balled up like bodies ballots crumbled in the trash bodies moaning rash) A certain look That walk alone through night absolute (In an ancient forest rain dripping from above) No sight (Albeit That walk seems endless) Cooked nettles Rose hips Ginger Gulp Grip Gash Naked but for water (A common paradigm?) It’s as real as any secret. Undeniable grace, in the window You walk miles from 56th St and 2nd Ave In red high heels. Fishermen, death, the sea. Daylight— The last detail. I remember correctly it was light. (TV antennae             Bills        Money to    Susie             Calendar (2005)       Chocolate                Tampons        Dental floss) Narcotic dinner party Scattered food and music Smoke from potatoes and grease Nervous limbs twitch These people, like you, constantly ask                     push                  join                      lock                             think Let them in. There are lots of people on the roof.                                                                                     Dec. 22, 2004 1:10 pm, Portland

return to SHAMPOO 32