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

I see you drinking at a fountain w
blue hands, no, your hands are not
they are small, and the fountain i
where you wrote me that last lette
I answered and never heard from yo

we have everything and we have not
and some men do it in churches
and some men do it by tearing butt
in half
and some men do it in Palm Spring

I took my girlfriend
to your last poetry reading,
she said “yes”,
“yes?” I asked.
"she`s young and pretty",

a girlfriend came in
built me a bed
scrubbed and waxed the kitchen flo
scrubbed the walls
vacuumed

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

I pick up the skirt,
I pick up the sparkling beads
in black,
this thing that moved once
around flesh,

when Whitman wrote, “I sing the b
I know what he
meant
I know what he
wanted:

too much too little
too fat
too thin
or nobody.
laughter or

I am a panther shut up and bellowi
cement walls, and I am angry at bl
evenings without ventilation
and I am angry with you, and it wi
like a rose