when the old drunk dog dies
and i drink
and stare out the window
at the twighlighting streets
all the masculine poetry in the world couldn't save me.
theres a darkness in yr eyes when you get up late at night
and yet yr so wonderful
what she said.
i wake up in a sweat
i think somebody's breaking in
or im having the bad hallucinations again
everything could look so strange
in a blink.
and when midday's blanket
of fall briskly covers my lollygagging days off
i recall when every day was a day off
and think how everyone
is getting upset about work.
when i think of all that blood pumping in my creations happy or sad
i hurriedly write a poem
before walking out the door
oh --- what a liminal space.
jesus the academia that shutters in my dreams,
all those wrecked apartments of my past
with smoke floating
lolliping thru the atmosphere
all i can think is just open a fucking window.
don't even get me started on the ole schizophrenia,
that's all i'll say to that.
and i'll be on my way
down that imaginal read red road
a no-coastal machine
with all those dopplegangers chasing my soul
its ok for now.