Can we even get back
from cat piss on the floor
our ever-broad north
a trick bridge over Taos?
I’ve never been saturate
but what warmth when the plane
pushes all your notes forward.
You went on a painting parade
fake blood, gasoline
vacillate sideshow.
You gave up the drink.
I went through a long phase
of teenage gang debs
sore throats paper lashes
Styrofoam heads.
I want to go where there’s no skin
give ultimate oral
a cold Russian novel
on the City of Rocks.
You say no owl
has legs like that.
You trust God’s answer
creek crack pipe shot.
You diagram
a certain dead hart
wrap yourself in the hide
of its hind.
I want to find
cedar squab houses pre-sunclose
be pulled through new towns
on a leash of electrical sobs
