la cuisine du chat

granite vinyl floor
false wood boxes
mac and cheese coffee tins
purple bran cereal bowls
window facing south
just the five freeway
somewhere on the fridge
the phone buzzes Van
shimmies face to face
with those wild nights
cat food plate just a few
orange crumbs left
of the meal she ate
water boiling rolling steam
tea leaves lemon and green
zen light amongst the top of tree
tail wound around her paws
a few splintered thoughts
snug between my head
two souls listening
as the city birds chirp
for her and me

can’t figure out

why we dream so distantly where the planets question who we are

black holes surrender in perplex look at each other in their deep blue eye

and say forget them

could be that in Tennessee my heart i left there beating

nature are you a conscience forcing me to look at the destruction of the muffler in my car

this morning she a strange lady clutched me in a surrender of half breed slumber

children screaming for their cereal and when i come to they were asking for some pop

patience

with warm scarlet tears

she sits sometimes she glances

rosebuds slowly yawn

hesitant

it doesn’t seem so long ago

that i smoked some cloves

was listening to the Pogues

and drifted into some world war

that i’ve only seen in film

over at Grauman’s Chinese theater

my blues are turning black

and though i opted out of methadone

it never meant that i was strong

will i ever say farewell and laser off the scars

of the circumstances of our battles

at two i’m getting up to pee

the midnight birds are wrapping up

the roosters will shortly crow their song

across the street with the old Japanese couple

i like to think that yesterday’s gash was really a fluke

but the book teaches that we must be quite honest

not being responsible enough to make a decision

i straighten out the linen closet instead

until the sun washes away my pain with her golden arms of fire

fashionably late

slowly the drizzle fell looking up at the amethyst sky i thought of my mother the swallows on the side of the bridge in their mud nests and the Cap out at the People’s Café upsetting as the day was my pencil’s lead broken a scraped knee and a love affair uncontrolled what my blood stream craved was beyond the reach of angels squinting at the stop signs i charged ahead at medium speed fearing that i had missed “A Summer’s Night Dream” the little puckish girl let me in to the crowd of on lookers and she asked for my ticket but it was Falstaff i was looking for

July 4, 1981

in the grocery cart you find the frogs down by the river

                bending in the light to where

the Pacific Bell poles rot at the bottom

in the creek where all the vagrants pee

                  it’s not lady like to see those things

but i guess i can learn faster to just look

   lucidity in their feet as the cops roll bye quietly

                      looking at the river grounds

“shut up shut up shut up!” the mantra of the

            prophetic invisibles fighting to stay in the

                      black hole

by the river Frog-town groans and the little fire fluffs

    spark here and there like in Gustav’s serpents

but Chavez’ Ravine bullies the twilight with a salute to

                   the liberation on the fourth

and we are all out of innings