having the low down blues and goin
into a restraunt to eat.
you sit at a table.
the waitress smiles at you.
she’s dumpy. her ass is too big.

I read last Saturday in the
redwoods outside of Santa Cruz
and I was about 3/4's finished
when I heard a long high scream
and a quite attractive

yes, they begin out in a willow, I
the starch mountains begin out in
and keep right on going without re
pumas and nectarines
somehow these mountains are like

we like to shower afterwards
(I like the water hotter than she)
and her face is always soft and pe
and she’ll wash me first
spread the soap over my balls

drunk on the dark streets of some
it’s night, you’re lost, where’s y
room?
you enter a bar to find yourself,
order scotch and water.

It’s never quite right, he said, t
the way the music sounds, the way
written.
It’s never quite right, he said, a
taught, all the loves we chase, al

she reads to me from the New York
which I don’t buy, don’t know
how they get in here, but it’s
something about the Mafia
one of the heads of the Mafia

was a truly amazing man
he pretended to be
rich
even though we lived on beans and
when we sat down to eat, he said,

I laugh sometimes when I think ab
say
Céline at a typewriter
or Dostoevsky...
or Hamsun...

shot in the eye
shot in the brain
shot in the ass
shot like a flower in the dance
amazing how death wins hands down