Something draws me to you the tug of experience
In the emporium of your remembered taste and touch.

local knowledge is to live in a place
and know the place
however barren

do you like my pony tail
I got it off a real pony who died

1956: She is the girl with the biggest
breasts in Sloan, Iowa. She will take
a backseat to no one. He is young

the biggest bore in town
arrives at my party
as if he were invited

and begins to tell me
the details of what a terrible
time he had getting here

but it was worth it he says
and I know he will be
the last to leave

and Dear Little Mother do not think
only of yourself your suffering

On the morning that lasts forever
the neighbors are playing a tape of Tibetan
monks again, somewhere between groaning

at Delphi. Some judgment! Now I've got osteonecrosis,

talk about the dead speaking through us.
The fountainhead cut off the flow to the corpus,

He winds through the party like wind, one of the just
who live alone in black and white, bewildered

Can't move can't speak can't think to wonder
why that's so. Song says I still
believe, can't think of what, who