when God created love he didn’t he
when God created dogs He didn’t h
when God created plants that was a
when God created hate we had a sta
when God created me He created me

Jane, who has been dead for 31 yea
never could have
imagined that I would write a scre
days together
and

these things that we support most
have nothing to do with up,
and we do with them
out of boredom or fear or money
or cracked intelligence;

I was a bum in San Francisco but
to go to a symphony concert along
and the music was good but somethi
audience was not
and something about the orchestra

this one teaches
that one lives with his mother
and that one is supported by a red
with the brain of a gnat.
this one takes speed and has been

We are like roses that have never
bloom when we should have bloomed
it is as if
the sun has become disgusted with
waiting

at their best, there is gentleness
some understanding and, at times,
courage
but all in all it is a mass, a glo
have too much.

sway with me, everything sad—
madmen in stone houses
without doors,
lepers steaming love and song
frogs trying to figure

They don’t make it
the beautiful die in flame—
suicide pills, rat poison, rope wh
ever...
they rip their arms off,

almost dawn
blackbirds on the telephone wire
waiting
as I eat yesterday’s
forgotten sandwich