People don't swallow bullshit wholesale like they used
People don't break into song.
People don't strike things from the record.
Nobody joins the circus.
Nobody orders Chinese take-out, opens a bottle of chianti,
and calls that a party.
Who chews Juicy Fruit?
Who swabs the decks of poop?
Who still believes that every great love is in some measure a terrible
Who still carries within their bodily frames the indelible stamp
of their lowly origins?
Do women bear stones now instead of children?
Do people still see the significance of moonlight through a frosted
airshaft window? Vaseline on stained
Do people still sit cross-legged on curbs fashioning mental movies
of the stories of their lives?
Does anyone burn with a hard, jewel-like flame?
Does anyone let all things happen -- beauty and terror alike -- unto
Does anyone suddenly, in a private hour, in the middle of vacation,
challenge the totality of
existence with a figure of maternal endurance?
Does the sensation of an insufficient lunch still prove worthy of
Does anyone renounce their cake and eat it too?
Where are the moral hedonists?
Where is the noble purpose? the patient energy required for completion?
the resolution undaunted by opposition?
What is the consensus nowadays on becoming a grotesque mirror
of one's own mother?
Is the experience of puberty still an insult to any intelligent, sensitive
Is nothingness still the ultimate simplicity?
Is anyone becoming a hero or heroine of their own imaginations?
Is laughter still the best medicine?
Are stern angels now unrequired to hear our pleas?
Why are people overlooking expulsion and retention as important
to the alchemical process?
Why isn't anyone doing the Blue Corn Dropsy under the flower moon?
Or dancing like Spaniards with an ox?
Why aren't they fucking in the furrows?
Why aren't they celebrating the sunflower hour with a moment
of duck blood soup?
Has anyone ever thought of embracing the rugged industrialist
of the secretarial sciences?
And if not, why not?
Does anyone ever get out of work early on a snowy day and look forward
to going home and masturbating?
No one sees the moon then becomes the moon.
And so the moon, sadly, becomes no one.
People don't wear plastic bags, directing traffic.
Who's giving it away on Seventh Avenue?
Hello hello -- is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear
Is there anyone at home?
Does anyone see the young, well-built excrement collector
descending the mountain at
dusk, reappearing shortly thereafter
a narrow street clogged by a shrine borne by boys,
finally gaining fame in the ranks of a family
Frankish tenors and Confucian tutors?
That's because no one ever feels shitty, oh so shitty,
neither shitty nor gritty
No one realizes that all the time spent going from room to room, tidying
could be better spent sitting
in the same chair for three hours
That's because no one knows to kill the Buddha when they meet the
A yellow gorilla is often the voice of reason.
And who among you can correctly answer the Seventh Riddle of Existence:
what is the nature and purpose
of cotto salami?
falls most heavily on the person least able to deal with it
falling heavily on.
In fact, it falls cats and dogs.
Like the night you walked toward me on Eighth Street out of fog
and said you were getting married.
Life could be so pleasant, I decided as we parted, if each of us fucked
according to our abilities.
Two weeks later I discovered Nature loses interest after sixty-five
your ass, and then your uterus falls, followed by the broken bottleneck
to the linoleum floor.
After they put me back together I had scars on my tongue and my pants
were unbuttoned, and
I was nostalgic for something as simple as your final rejection on
the bench in
the square fashioned to resemble old Andalusia in summer.
Remember me at midnight screaming at you from the prairie?
Because of you I got a bluejay tattoo. It got infected. Twice.
I know I told you you had a beautiful cock, but that was because I
and we were fucking on the floor of an empty office
diamond-high above Manhattan.
Above us loomed platters of untouched seafood, and you said,
"I'm gonna make you scream."
Nipples did not stand at attention. No one spurted to kingdom come.
Rather, in the fine cracklings of plaster that fell from the couvade,
you spread my thighs with your knees and whispered,
"The elephant is in the diamond, and the diamond is in the lotus."
It was your winsome view of the universe.
But I was neither famous nor popular, neither pretty nor influential.
All I could promise was to acquiesce, like Boris Yeltsin in the Lincoln
I had been waiting for you for so long, waiting in the car, waiting
to lick & kiss & love you, but
when you're alone like that in your car the car itself
can make you feel that way.
If women bought cars for sex, like they want to, men might start cooperating.
Anyway, my breasts were resting in your hands like small dogs,
and my irrational desires pinnacled globally, from the loftiest spreading
to the humblest agnes cactus.
I was like the giver of life in the temple of the four seasons,
a nocturnal lagoon oozing voluptuous nectars from every diameter.
You were like a team of puppet lovers and midgets, safe houses and
all rolled into one.
Bugs and fluids were gathering, forming a Calgon bath in negative
Then came the fisting, the clubbing, and the flaying.
Finally, the mute twirling and the sputtering.
"Corn?" you said, "when did I eat corn?"
What my circumstances were you knew, you to whom the gods had given
I had a humbler station in life; I still had a lot to earn.
"If you're lucky," you said, "your solitary fantasies might one day
one million realities."
"Anything heretofore neglected," I said looking out at a blurry view
"only needs that mad housewife edge."
You called me your cross Dolores; you were my youthless Andalusian.
I knew someday we'd be in Paris for the lighting of the lamps.
But after that night, no more. Nothing more.
Only long days on a mossy stained mattress with a bee sting lingering,
and red shoes tumbling through space in a dream.
I dread seeing you again, on the avenue.
Every blurry view of Jersey reminds me of you.
Is this what it means to walk naked through the world?