Export: Writing the Midwest
from even in partial darkness
curtain curtails fantasy electric mossy dew does elicit where once one stood.
stuck sticks buoyant cement gathers wake. even kiss.
coffee water wine I’m neither dead nor alive.
sleep wishes parakeet yellow cake in which to.
“looking fleshy?” leant over desk. asked.
left lullaby. an exit. then enter.
“what do you know for sure?” behind home plate. a tiger from 21st century Harlem.
you read & she cries & she waits for death. set up sadness. old salt. middle of pretzel factory.
I sold my mother to a ship. Incomplete.
rarely state intentions. lit by electricity of peers. pears. my 2 sons
barred. gated window wrapped in velvet sun cracks night resembles egg.
in bed with 2 others no fucking this time. big Difference.
NY a city of sounds. sounds change everydayday. shakes a stick.
it isn’t easy to die. lunch over chicken & tofu big difference (?) from powered donuts, Palestine?
no electricity. every one of us looses lover. we all forget to pay bills. unless we’re buying a house.
sits in darkness. not choice. excuse.
so much loss. fire theft. somber lover.
blue Tiffany sky shot dreamcicle orange. how our fingers wrapped..
our brotherhood manifests itself in the eyes. Tu Fu weeps happily. dinner needs to be cheap.
Harry Smith conducts. Ledbetter sings. in the distance Duchamp takes a leak.
he jerks realistically that’s north that’s the Chrysler building look for it & you’ll never get lost.
asleep over water I roll into you. Disappear. it’s hard to die.
you know my name. take a good look. it may be your last. desire is Josef Hoffman’s mustard pot.
want to believe in John Lennon’s lost weekend. she’s not Yoko Ono. make sense of another’s universe.
she wants them he & she to be as lobsters. fuck whomever whenever. then settle within each other’s craw.
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