Speakeasy Alleys

The fan at the bar who

drank zero drinks for

hours

leaps to his feet

/baby says she’s mine/

/you know she tells me all

the time/

/you know she said so/

He flashed a fiver

and dances up the length

of the bar’s entrance

and back down again.

Pro-offered & finally

accepted.

A silver fox takes his

hand.

Howl they dance.

She dances with him

through the next three

covers.

Not a bad turn around on

investment, in this fool’s eyes.

A girl dances along-side

them and begins waving.

Then, she plays it off.

She did not know to

whom she waved.

But, maybe she will.

Ever-one jumps up and

rushes to dance to CCR.

I say: I like the smell of

your leather.

He says: you’re the girl in

the black dress.

I say: there’s some white

crosshairs on here.

He smiles; and, I walk away.

I espy the Dance Partner

give her number away

while all ages free-dance

I overhear: it is what it is

Howl yes

It is

And, the band howls:

Here it comes

/well nothing I do don’t

seem to work, <howl>, it

only seems to make

matters worse/

The bassist nails the

outro.

Then, on the next song,

the band changes singers.

They break into

Rebel, Rebel. They

miss a line.

They redeem the

recapitulation of

Ziggy Stardust

/gurl, I want to be with

you/

It is funny

Go across an ocean and

they sing southern, u.s. rock.

Come back home and all they wanna sing

is the British invasion.

A breeze blows from

The Sound

as I walk home alone.

I slept in

I slept until three p.m.

Because I could-no usual m.o.

In the pac NW 7 a.m., 3 p.m., and nine p.m. all

Look the same

Waking from dreams to remember

This is the one from which you do not know how to wake.

I imagine the world can

See and know what my mind holds

In that state.

Like there is nothing to doubt

Nothing to fear.

The cat slept on my feet.

They were not cold.


The gray summer sky

Resembles the colors of your silent eyes.

I slept by scraps I scrawled for you.

I slept by a bit of wrapping paper from a gift

Half a year old.

Oh howl, you make me sentimental.

To ask for what you hope

And to wait.

As hard as crying non-sad tears must appear to observers.

The sea is soft today.

But, í can always find a reason to smile.

I.e. “cheesecloth”

Sobriquet que ridiculoso.

Like young skin

You are smooth

Like young skin.

It is this present, separating the two.

Coarse still.

Contained infinitely

Keeps

You always new.

Presently

So í present me as í will and wilt be.

Your grains grew.

Became rough?

Hard to go against.

A backwards shove.

A cat pet the wrong way.

Your backwards glance, surreptitiously noticed.

I told you

I pay attention to your punctution.

Paints dried as fast as grass grew.

But, never as fast as the weather changed.

Everything happened so quickly

In slowness.

Living with punctuated equilibrium ages me in bursts.

The course grain leaves red rubs on skin like indian burns from childhood.

Asked for and still bemoaned.

Like saying: I miss you.

Dreamed

I ran with you in dreams last night.

There was a small bit of lace hiding a bit of my clavicle.

When you lifted it

The notation for

a song was below.

Then I remembered

The lyrics.

“Oh yeah.

I wrote this for you

Before we met.”

S/crawled

I found a word on a notecard.

Assoil.

Present it between gritted teeth,

heavy lidded. Pleas

see before my snarl creeps back.

To acquit, absolve.

Solve Loose.

I call this word how we untangle each other.

You are Unmade and in need of collection.

Soft, sweet, slow.

Until inertia overcomes.

A harsh lunar body with love that annihilates

Your self-doubt ,

Ashames with kindness.

Pains with inelegant honesty.

You

Have

My attention and pulse,

sorrell.

Kept with you and resent but a moment ago.

And, I wonder where

we find ourselves

On this reading of what I just write to wrote?

To discern the coefficient of friction.

Re-scribed an umpteenth time.

For your inexorable sea, no doubt,

remains a’wave.

Unyielding. Relentless. Assiduous.

Paramour. Swoon over and give us some room.

Aragon and lavender, salty mists of sea tides

Aroma wafting through the scene.

A contention that new tangential elaboratorations

exert mild pressure.

“You are uncomfortably comfortable,” whispered with gravity.

So came I, cloaked.

Amateur ingenue

Feminine made anew.

I sow.

Sew you a pillow case all the colo(u)rs of Joseph’s coat.

You will dream of Argonauts. You will watch legion run

head first off the cliff.

They seek demise, but you have desire and

A dexterous handle with an au gauche moniker.
There is power in having a title, because to have is

To hold(,) dear.

To become the multitudes contained

within my circles.

The circles I contain.

The circles containing me.

A ruddy red demonstration of diameter.

Obstinte and obdurate at heart

I am a junkyard bitch who sometimes likes to bark.

Your home is no show place, but you are so fine

that lyrics write idylls for you

and scheme to catch just a sight of you

blushing. I’d sooner have you stern

Looking.

Æffect & Cause

The lost cause of

how you used to be?

The wilted cæmellia

tucked behind the hero/ine’s ear?

Wilt

wither and thither.

Return to stasis,

never static, sugarfoot.

But, what you chew up and

cannot swallow

will feed your

root structure.

Poison returns if you

leave it elsewhere.

Sum it up and send it

Back to the earth

Quake for rebirth.

You saw a wryneck

Hum

In shallow waters of a

Good place to be

Candide.

The best of whose

Possible worlds?

It is how you

See the question.

Just glad to hear

The presumption of my

Body is no assumption.

Getting ready

To be fretted

For being willing

To be the bay-at-sea/c.

A cistern formed by basins of shale

Far beneath and beyond

The pale where

Sun is always shadowed

But for somme.