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Clear Blue Tea
The streetlamp addresses the patio
in a concordance of shades
and throws its scrim
of clear blue tea on my wall.
One foot envies the other
as tearful little infants, groomed on chump change
climb in and out of my thoughts
like fares in a cab.
I need need more than you.
The outer rings of the night reach
through sound and light to the far corners of my bedroom,
where the fierce lions of the cosmos prosper, rage, love and destruct
with my blessing.
There is a fire in the middle of the page.
My consciousness surrenders and mounts with an oriental gaze.
Tethered to nothing, now.
The dark’s tune slows to ape song.
“I remember it all, the fangs and the claws.”
The light others looked at
that plumbed the alleyways
was squandered on me,
who was its seismograph.
It will meet me again, after my ration of sleep.
Inside my squint, the city sun struck a match on the spire of a mosque.
I see you, Stewart.
You wear your headaches like a crown.
Your thoughts become time; time, age.
You are the cough woven in the recording of the piano recital by an undisputed genius.
“I think there’s a lake just around this corner,”
You go, I’ll follow. It’ll take years.
What is this life, anyway, but an absurd case of the bends?
Love wracked nerves unsung.
back here, the thwarted win
The guts of the pool flinch
as ghosts in the strobe of my memory haunt someone else.
I walk through luck.
I am almost up.
At dawn, my ex loves, who’ve gardened the void all livelong night,
sing an orgasm through the wires.
In the treetops, minnows of light…
I feel the constellations shifting miles above,
as my bare feet are kept warm by those that burn below.
My pillow begins to snow.
Live from the has been hours,
I am taking dictation.