II.

The curtains in my grandmother’s room are embroidered.

And peach.

And round and wild with wind.

A soft grey sky: Bye.

The crying I do at my cousin’s shoulder

Is not even mildly shy.

We’re yoked.

I think that’s pretty.

I hold her

For a long time and she

Pats me. There are only

Two poems:

You write a letter.

Or you describe something.

I kiss

A soft face for the quote unquote

Last time.

She said to save some for myself.

And not to laugh with all my teeth.

Strong basic love

Names a doctrine

An orientation

A location

Within a relation

An arrangement –

Strong

Basic love

In silk

As yellow

On a cake-shaped

Black cap

I will custom-make

As a shield

I hold my own hand firmly

Look at us

I am holding you in my face

Look at me

Happy Cup

I scream a note.

I scratch my cheek.

And the Christ said

Eloi, Eloi,

Lama sabachthani.

I know every seed.

I know seeds.

I had a strawberry plant, clearly.

On the balcony.

They tasted good.

I have a family I keep.

So I’m really

Happy.

Round windows, wood bracelets, Xmas broaches, little fish.

A mammal with a tongue like a pencil.

I’m not sure.

But I am sure.

The lily is sure.

The rose bush.

Then there are leaves people bleed on.

I amn’t sure.

But I am juice.

Spicy your life

The sign says:

Happy Cup Bar and

Restaurant.

You of age?

The proprietor asks me.

And then gestures

To the bathroom where stands my date.

And him?

As in the man pissing

With a dick I will never see.

The man was downstairs pissing

From what remains

A mystery.

Someone a woman says let’s hug.

I reach for her hands.

Everybody has tetanus, she says, No.

Oh I feel great.

And jealous.

Ya I feel grealous.

I have ten minutes.

Today I want clarity.

I understand the next book cover

To be my tiny little ear so

If you want more instruction, note:

I already told you

To lie on the ground or

Sit on it.

It can’t be

Saturday morning

All the time.

I defer to you.

It’s great.

I’m tired of always knowing everything.

I know I’m wrong but I wish I were kidding.

Can my new used coat be my costume?

I invented pasta.

I invented cheese.

Blood

I’ve tried being lowly.

It doesn’t fucking work.

I need

Love lest I

Be fucked up.

I look high

To receive my fate.

The world

It has not killed me.

I am after

Irreverence.

Today I fill a

Book with blood.

The problem is there’s none.

I’m foolish enough.

And healthy as a mole.

I look up

To receive my fate.

A man’s stride looses his hands to the day

Like a dollop of hollandaise.

He’s alive. I am alive.

I have to

Live.

Angels rest in the cups of my clavicles.

Because there’s no beef between stupid and hallowed.

There’s no war