did you
know
that the
sawdust
of the changing
moon is
also god?

a
jar
of light
is missing
from the mountain.

when you hear it
it is a shadow.

when you see it
don’t obey.

if i knew how to say it
i would wear a necktie
at thursday dusk
stumble onto the long
drawn out highway of
night heckle the stars
then fade back home
through meadow and
on by city light
but i never came back
beat the drum
my toll is done

solitude is what i want
on a bus headed to some
shitty city just as long as i’m stoned
and it’s raining and i’m hungry
and i’ve no money and have to borrow for a grilled cheese
at the next stop only then will
the droplets on the pane
uneven birds
in the passing trees resound with any
magnificence any solution of emotion

the brave of the
city dusk
but i won’t tell it
a cursive necktie not the same
as circles but bolder than vermilion
a large stampede of
stars smiling maybe
as visible as the thread
in the satire of a dress
burdened with blue skies

swing from
high to leap
from ash to
purple leaf
be disastrous
ly pertinent
make adieu
of the usual
a breakfast apart
from the ordinary

here come daffodils
stiff as black eyes

the drunk brains of the sun
surmising a grinning nowhere
in a garden of grinning fire

here comes the moonlight
turned upwards like surgery
feasting on the petals of the sea

somehow some of our follies
will catch safe landing
and we will be sad for that