Tender duos in mezzo piano

Dancing prone and still 
on the questionable sheets 
of rumpled motels just outside of town,
we are dirty
in our room of heat and sex, 
the smell of tar on us like the cancer
we are bound to get sooner then never,
and we are just perfectly
in awe like a blooming meadow of broken Jacquin's bottles 
just like the ones we drank
the night you and i made love for the first time,
Thank God for that sweet first time I felt heaven, 
for the first time of many
you curled up next to me
like the cat you were in some past life
and you felt really good.
(you had always felt good, it's just that one day, finally, you felt really good.)
now I look at you with disastrous attraction, 
my delirious heart 
skipping beats and my knees going weak, 
and I only want to lay with you
in that sweet symphony
of our evenings playing on our breaths 
as we pass out tangled in each other's arms, 
the sound of tender duos in mezzo piano.

The anatomy of a pocketknife

As physically ill as I have felt 
these past four weeks, 
mostly...I feel estranged from 
       emotion. 

...My ethereal has been drowned... 

The pocketknife's insides... 
spilt upon a table of my bed clothes, 
       wide-awake 
and tone-deaf to the fashion by which you commune 
with my pale white ghost... 
       The former me, 
the only me that you ever knew 
and the only me I know 
       is trying 
             to forget 
       You. 

Greatly saddened am I, 
that you no longer trust 
       dead heroes, 
or heroes no longer heroic... 

       I feel like a limp flag pole 
a melted ice cube, 
...weak in your arms, 
I am weak on your arms but I'm on my feet, 
       fivehundredfeet 
       from the ground 
and I feel huge up here 
       huge and airy. 

While the me you see is grounded safe on earth, 
        my head is in the clouds; 
the sun up here comes from a memory. 

       The real sun was an orange that you ate, 
peeled real slowly and slipped the slices smoothly into your mouth 
       while I watched and envied you. 

You, who are quick like thunder and loud like lightning 
       a rainstorm of hushed catastrophe, 
a silence golden 
       like a fleet of libraries.

On the 13th floor in room 1313...

At the onset: 
       I noticed 
       A fish with 
                       no scales 
       wriggling in the air before my eyes 
electric and brilliant, mysterious 
       and obviously 
a little horrifying. 

Then, on the walk to the 7/11 
                with police presence: 
       the brief wind of a 
               sudden ghost dog 
       --faint shadow breezing around a tree. 

(...a sudden mental sharpening or something, not really...) 

and Adam calls out to me as I write, 
               "'Ole diggity dog' 
                        -A classic!" 
in reference to a poem he wrote 
which is indeed a classic. 

(I feel better 
than I have 
...in weeks?) 

Long bramble of trains, 
train set city moving like the ones 
in the ghosts of my uncle's basement. 

is there 
       a sunrise 
somewhere in all this city? 

...out the window 
infinite drops 
of moisture... 

and now a haiku: 
                               Laughing diet-- 
                               Screaming Chinese Poets, 
                               Drinking wine. 

and then there was 
a drawing 
and it looked like 
                               clouds with faces and a floating cube 
         hovering 
                               over three sailboats on a smooth sea 
                                       and under the sea there is 
                                       a city with its very own 
  underwater sun 
                --- 
(...and its like 
       having one long 
never-ending silent 
       conversation 
with yourself...) 

I lay 
writhing in blue jeans 
on a couch 
as trains crumple dawn 
writhing...writing... 

My head, 
       lopsided, 
plundered by loud music 
and the dance of traffic 
       of whistles and car crashes 

--a flutter 
       of neon heat-- 

The voices of 
      a thousand blankets 
are crying, 
               "We need sleep too!" 
and oh God 
I need sleep worse 
but do I get it? 
       Do I get it? 
...NOPE! 

---()--- 
the dandy sun 
creeping in 
like a lion. 

the dandy lion 
creeping in 
like a sun. 
----<@ 

...rolling stomach 
thunder 
hunger 
drain brain pain 
       head gain 
               dead trains 
--reenergized lighting, 
       or 7 o'clock in the morning maybe... 
                         *Smash!... 
Finale: 
               diluted people 
               dilapidated pupils 
                mutilated verbals.