Some particularly dear friend
I can't conceive of
that brings your face to mine,
a well to be filled with
tossed pennies, a pair
of green bikini panties
stranded on the doorknob
is my favorite cave.
I have nothing to stop my brother:
as I
try
to predict his next move
a girl
is
blowing suds out the window.
There must be millions.
A postcard in the mud
tinkles with transparent scripture.
Sunshine came down
on the weird statues
out-front the hotel
of three worlds: your bag
of tears
is
all
you have to empty
before you enter.
On the clerk's lapel spells Roxy.
I'll never go that far again.
I'm happy it's over.
What's inside the fiddle in the meadow?
Under the shadow of the hammer
the constant flow
of the great bodysnatcher
through the chattering streets.
Way back there in the avalanche
following some ship-lover
over the horizon
