9:05 lost in Chinatown

assimilation is unfortunate
I contain the shudder urban cramp
the smoke pole
a too hot latte
peer’s book

farewell French sparrow
me time is always here
when you need it

condensed packet sounds
like a tax receipt
motion distracting
the borrowed barista ink

inky smudge finger/smudge
on my hi five-r
too late to avoid this pen type
from the burning lip beans

it’s not pleasant
somebody diarrheaed here
pounding iron, Texas
sheetrock planks
cold and burnt
air and oxygen container

you seldom know
tested it for me, disparaged
I guess
you should remember twenty
plus years and grasp, it
that okay?

this my available conversation
and stop opening the fucking door
she asked “Poet or fiction?”
I point: stage left
she suggested returning two-fold
revisit the classics
check page three
review the neglected submission
relish the error.

No parking sign
pre-paid parking feed, bye

synthetic down spread, bye

narrow cup for soy, bye

tenth floor windows and chairs
Chicago Cultural Center, bye

tenth floor: wood, stage, chairs
Columbia College, Chicago, bye

lowerlevel bookfair
Hilton, Chicago, bye

Mambo. Artists. Dunkin. Descartes, bye

Milkweed, Poet Lore, City Limits, Graywolf, Orion, Mandorla, Dalkey

bye
bye
bye
bye
bye

Six degrees of communism

Kriemhild in-love with Siegfried
every wit as much
as Gunther in-love
as much as Gunther seeks Brunhild
equally as does Etzel, with Kriemhid
where Siegbant of Ireland
seeing Ute, the Norwegian,
as Hetel of Hegelingen that of Hilde,
of Ireland
not foregetting Siegfried of Morland
Harmut of Orman,
and Herwig of course, well, Seeland loved Herwig.

i lie prostrate

after a week, i lie prostrate


i come down to
this last hour
this last journey
lilacs and bronze

you afforded me
i watched up up
together together and a part
and apart
and widen and part

then together
gone! a
nd together
this pole

i looked clear that day
sleeves of my sweatshirt up
let it be mine again
i shrieked isis, agape

shrieked it
lying prostrate

thing is

still hearing the last goodnight
making it through a morning
reading isis, agape
squinting for poets
grasping for friends
not making it through morning

reading you love me in the morning
reading

holding onto each other

Tom Collins

To and from Avis,
we take the bus.
The navigator or our journey
is a man filled with Jesus.
He does please us.
Las name Collins, first name Tom.
He listens to gospel
on a CD Rom.
From the looks of his skin
he could be a member
of the nation of Islam.
He's got a mixed drink named after him,
for a good time mix sweet, sour, and gin.
He's quick to help
when he parks the shuttle.
My bag is so heavy, he busts a nuttle.
But he's a trooper
no time for rebuttle.

Lime chips

When I eat lime chips
I feel like shakin my hips
They make me so happy
I know it sounds sappy,
But I crave them when life
gets crappy.
Sometimes they are crispy,
sometimes stale, but either way
They would be my last meal.
In jail.
Thank you Lays, for you have brightened
my days.
Hey no joke, it's seriously making
me broke.
But like I said, they make me smile
For them, I would walk a mile.