BUT FIRST

herewith I block myself. from now on anything is allowed. step into the lake. walk on water. rearrange clouds. be merry. get out of the coffin. recharge without cables. straighten flowers. dip into the sun up to your wrist. hold a handful of light. take God to your tongue. taste his letters. wave to angels. wake up to a kiss. fly away. kiss footprints lying flat on the ground. run on all fours after mother. hug the wind. smell out scents. lock them in jars. and if you are full? you can circle the day as an important date. then back to Addictology but first… … have another drink with Bukowski…

Drama In The Attic

Dust springs up then settles back stove taken apart; from memory mosaics grown cold mud, tamped ceiling, sole supported by the roof you look down on yourself, as if you stood on a mirror white beam breaks into a dream, athwart still projector bathroom door propped up against him me it there broken glass snarls shingle slid aside is the focal point draws me in, and you this and that yeah, sure… won’t let it happen femininity inverted triangle’s empty gape impure thought flies with winged bird-clawed harpies the world is between their bony legs let’s not deny roof opened up vagina aflame dust-feathered pigeons on heat the next sound is very clean desolateness of the corner forgotten boxed solitude drama…