h. & earth

she lives on Sundays & nectarines


an end to her means

somewhere in tangled ivy

light breaks o' the balcony

climbing through

this Paris morning

& a volume of Keats

have you seen

her shampooed hair

a flag

down to there

beyond                       that blue-bird tattoo



at intervals

—I might be a dumb old world

but I may just shake you off

like a collie

coming out of a pond

you're so proud of the deals you've struck

with your devils & your technology

I'd like to have you meet my good friend

who goes by the name of gravity

so we will see, won't we?

when all the buildings and bullshit

are tossed into space

only trees & flowers

will stick like glue

as for the rest of you

take a deep breath, hold it in

you might make it to the moon

in all your years here

how many times I drew


of hope                        in hieroglyphics   But

you didn't look up

so   —enjoy the silence...

how were we Ever

the way we were?     so

caught up

I remember

it stayed with me today &

robbed me of last night

my arms around that

impossible love

you're still full length in the dressing room mirror

those images you left in there

& how I'm not able to

walk outside or go anywhere


pulled so close together

i felt you breathe through your skin

so close

i can't reach   that


your motion

                  your time                        & some vista

but that was

fearless with

crazy energy &

you & me



you and me

you                 and                                       me

how we knew and went ahead

how we knew and you

went ahead...

I've been ghostwriting today, looking over my shoulder

running to catch up

and twisting free

you'd  be

sleeping shotgun

for a thousand miles

Now there's medicine-man bones and madame x

Monday to Friday and all that mess

but you're

some yesterday morning


thief of Baghdad

in cotton pants

—for all the diamonds

Gold! and broken glass

spread across Queen Anne's bed

there is

an engraving on a single

rusted bracelet

cut from my heart                   

i can still feel it

the way cat spirits hover, afraid of the

silver crucifix on your black dress  or—

the finely draped sanctuary of your last address