The night paints inhaling smoke and semen. 
    The frail face pulses like a parachute,
    corridors of shakes melting from the boot

After the first glass of vodka
you can accept just about anything
of life even your own mysteriousness

To take up where you left off!
without a breath of separation
your new movement is begun.

Oh snows of only two months ago!
when will you fall back up into the sky
and fall down again like an airplane?

I never seem to hear much, except Tschaikovsky.
What’s the matter with me, especially on Saturday
afternoon? it seems that there’s a park nearby

You may flaunt my looseness, you know
that I go whole weeks without, so, I
get depressed because I’m so easily distracted

I’m getting tired of not wearing underwear
and then again I like it
                                           strolling along

It really is amusing
that for all the centuries of mankind
the problem has been how

We join the animals
not when we fuck 
             or shit

I sit in your T shirt
with its spots of paint
as a certain fierceness pours