Spitwad

this is your revelry -- Christmas light lit,

all bodies in clothing unmoving and jostled,

cupping the sound like a hand on your ear,

a hand on your heart

but a hard slap, a hot Cuban hand on the head

of the drum will unstick like an arrow, stick like

a spitwad on a chalkboard, stick and peel off

all flat and impressed

//Blackout, Out-black/Plea for a Palindrome Prayer//

//Blackout, Out-black/Plea for a Palindrome Prayer//

‘I’M NOT HERE.’
‘I was NEVER there.’

I wake up dreaming after one second of infinite rest,

My brain
is minced
behind my eyes.

My pale hands quiver to a pallor
-fingers like so many shakey spindles

The beer is flat
and smooth.

The things which I thought were forward are suddenly backward.
-----
.drawkcab ylneddus era drawrof erew thguoht hcihw sgniht ehT
I should have spoken some palindrome prayer
so that I didn’t wind up on the other side of some looking glass.

Now

light shines
in the places I least expect
it.

(-Last half should be printed in a mirror reflection so that a mirror has to be used to correct it to be read. Uncertain as to what the title ought to be.)

//Stockholm, August//

//Stockholm, August//

A dead steady sigh on the telephone line
sizzles
the sugar in your heart.

Tea With The Moon

I was dreaming

Swilling from a broken glass

Clarity of mind and depth of soul

Honored and kept throughout

Born to break hearts

Jump cracks in the sidewalks

Through the branches of trees

Through the blades of grass

Was I not dreaming, sipping tea with the Moon?

The basis for a series of downtown handouts, possibly.

You know, to expand the public's mind.