How do you find yourself in literature?
All blue-eyed, drinking from green bottles.
Do you think I’ve done the sky right?

How do you find yourself in literature?
All blue-eyed, drinking from green bottles.
Do you think I’ve done the sky right?

You didn't light my cigarette.
Offered your lighter so I could light it myself.
Recall the white room I took you to

The orchestrations of sunrise
much like the tune, abstract from the outset,
(this is the nature of music)

This place, too, has its own integrity:
split, ruined, abandoned
walls of chipped blue cursed

it’s impossible for me even to guess
since as they say
he really has no country of his own.

three wars ago, pleading for her bambino,
expecting to see him young and warm

Picture me now, my breath hot
on your kitchen window,

He feels the catheter as penis,
is pleased with its sudden growth,
and goes to great lengths fondling

You and I, when we sleep, we’re like whales
because fish swim out of my mouth
and you dishevel the seaweed.