Tell me about a complicated man.
Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost
when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy,

I want to write like a man, probing
my glitchy mind like it’s the rarest orchid.
But I’m cowed,

Ate stew, shot a man,
Bandy body spraddled, so full of lead 
Cabron can’t even walk uphill. 

The whole country is in a duel and we want no part of it. 
They see us ride, they say
all you men going the wrong direction. 

Garçon, you snore so rhapsodically but hup hup,
peach schnapps & Coke Zero
with a gumball-green mermaid swizzle stick—

A heartvein throbs between her brows: Ketty-San’s
incensed another joke’s made at her expense,
With characters of granite schist, she hashtags a ban

Alone, which has grown to mean without you,
        I sweat in our old bed. In the bay, the storm’s orchestra tunes. 
Thunder, and my next expression is one of yours.

    At the center of the city I come upon a hill, at the top of which is a very large bird. I see it resembles an eagle. Though it’s about 14 stories high, it’s as docile as a rabbit. Its foot, I see, is tied to a stout nearby building. The rope used for this purpose is thick, the knot alone having the bulk of a cottage, or a pleasant bungalow.

It is the sort of clock that in ringing might waddle across a dusty dresser and fall into a drawer of luminous socks. The sort that might escape, given half a chance.

I knew the dick size of every boy in my grade,
my measure being how it filled my fist
when I squeezed it through their jeans. In return