Untitled In 1-27-90
I sat in a kind of wasted skin stupor and
try to make sense of my reality idiom in pisces
blue A minor sequence aqueoushumor blind sigh-ted
by a dubious passion to be a teacher of pious on
metaphors to go to the holy innocents of a yestertommorrow
I talk ramble by day of the slammer sociomenace
while they glassed eyed park their sick l cells in
unneutral and (in double park synapse in tow---let me catch an old
glimmer of naked frenzy-taut as a stretched, cracked
brittle rubber band praying for one last turnstretch to
flipfly a higher band than the last cloud pattern, given
to the raised eyebrows of montoya clammerings of hocus
pocus Jekyll/Hyde explosive endeavor trick or treats
without the brownwhite wrapper or the righteous look
pinch pout pocket of a boy dowell. Keep the false faith friends,
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