These days I love to dream, then I go hear @3Romeo Void@1. It's a gentle hell, beloved. Teen-age boys with lead guitars singing a number like there is no like, you're gone. I suck the little megawatts of my memories which are nothing exactly like mirrors in a bar in a different mentality, L.A., Albuquerque, Berkeley, queens drunk and coked to the teeth for the imprimatur of the closing bells. I imagine I do you riding toward my fascination the speedway, and the next minute the next minute sniff jasmine no one sees. I lose the image of myself the rest of the world has to catch up with. How long are you going to be the rest of the world? One long day the lover you left me for returns to sleep with you, you can't do it, it's ancient, like talking about sex and not realizing the lead singer has one leg squeezing the other around a mikestand. Knowledge is useless, @3Heaven@1 in script on a turquoise sweatshirt, with Private Clubs for Los Ojos. Where is this room? Just a sweater with nothing under it, a blanket with the design of the future. I can see how she is because we only just met. So used to living intimately sometimes I wake feelings in others I don't know. Mornings the prostitutes on Mission in halter tops and pumps ignore me as if I'm just another voluntary miscarriage of an intellect. Forever is getting faster, air traffic no one hears over a beach. You make a small gesture on that beach, love, flicking volcanic ash off a cigarette. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LONG JOHN BROWN AND LITTLE MARY BELL by WILLIAM BLAKE PENMAEN POOL by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE RIVER-MERCHANT'S WIFE: A LETTER by LI PO ZOLA by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON WINTER RAIN by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI RESIGNATION by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER |