something slowly moved
through the sky like a giant whale
it wasn't anything forget it

there was a story but it was forgotten
time left muddy footprints on the carpet

the conversation was dead as an art form
now people just lied
about everything

this was seen as the new positivism
the taking control of ones life
corporations were the ideal

he looked at the window but it wasn't
really a window
it showed all the thoughts
that his friends thought were
worth lying about

the darkness creeped in
only a bit of streetlight
on the wall
he sank in to the bed
and felt instantly relaxed
he kicked off his shoes
and fell asleep

Jesus died in my arms
she said
I am mary queen of scots
I defy you
then she passed out
I dragged her to the shower
laid her in, turned on the cold water
she said she would never forgive me

the refrigerator was humming
he lay under the kitchen table
and stared at her legs
she was singing along
to the Police
Walking On the Moon
the cat was annoyed

the sketch was torn but
it wasn't a bad likeness
she left it sitting on the table
after she drank all the wine
and had to go to the bathroom
again

fuck a big
apple
she said
i been to paris france
is that your trombone?

solenoid
embrace
parker bros
fury
encapsulated
by bone-like
etruscan manouvers
"the farce is unknown"
you used to have a car
with a manual choke
and a tape deck bolted to the floor
in the rain
we listened to blood on the tracks
and smoked weed
on the other side
was the light house keeper
song
the green is gold
 we bought a shovel
and sent a post card
to chowchilla
but the children were hidden
in a buried schoolbus in a
quarry
sick bastards
no one died
i think they're still in prison
probably
Soledad

his grandmother lived at 54th st
she was a russian immigrant and had been
in the same apartment for 47 years
his grandfather had been a tailor
and then he opened
an art gallery
he knew a lot of emigres and 
he made a lot of money selling
russian paintings and russian icons
in the sixties he bought hundreds and hundreds of
russian propaganda posters from
a friend in Leningrad
most of them had rotted
in a flooded warehouse in Hoboken,
his older brother stole the rest after the grandfather died and sold
them for heroin.
he subsequently overdosed and died.
the older brother had been the grandmother's favorite.
she doted on him and refused to believe he stole the posters
even after they found several in his apartment.
" Grandpa must have geeven dose to heem."
He rang the buzzer and waited.

the one note wonder
but what a note
his shoes were failing
the snow had made his socks wet
he found a pair of sunglasses under a car
and put them in his bag
what he really wanted was a cup of coffee
he smoked the butt end of a cig
and watched the snow come down

benign
 muchanted
mush brained
bastion of eels
and polymaths
   on a whim
he crossed
himself
and walked across the street
with his eyes closed
he heard a car skid
crash and the horn blowing
he ran to the subway
and took the E train.

It's March now
we had a little rain but
it's like summer now
drought will continue

dry years will continue
and then years of abolute rain & flooding
roads will wash away
crops will fail