NYCS

NYC 2

Perhaps it was a terrible idea, to begin with.
The lack of any beginning whatsoever.
Whatever it is, you choose to consume
your life's work & winking hour
with the assistance of a coverlet I stitched
from old cloth pieces you'd stamped.

Marked same as a tear, which does not follow the form.
In that a tear can drift forgotten.
Each of us do.
My air is another candle.
Breathe till dawn.

NYC 3

I am an American Housewife just having fun.
And the future has just as many pre-dawns.
Where you will touch to hold me,
say things,
Etc.

Physical pain has been a large part of the lesson.
As present as an attitude; it's remedy as rare
as blue in Nature.

I'm for colliding the blanket atmosphere debate.
Another fogging animal climbing the morning.
To help ones self to the fruit.
To do any cold fruit at all.

NYC 4

I want you to pull out of me
A cathedral from a distance
of 8 pole vault lengths.

Stored up there in the maxim
states: I wanted you better
Than myself.

(Feels the beautiful bike legs swimming in midair)

We faced off at high noon
Working the shadows perilously
Hitch a tattoo onto me
As long as your name shows up
Every day & has a will.

There are kings in the cold strawbales
Blinking their shiny rags at us
To this end, I squint & wonder
how we get so genial & vague &
stowed away.

(Waiting for the next seastreak to pass)

NYC 5

There is a curtain in this out-of-doors
made up of a fabric immaterial
It blows full & empties
exactly like maiden-cloth.

Clutch me dear, and I'll drop a rosary
Into the East River
That would be my incongruous action
What else, what's yours, what now

Ok,
Let the view saturate, discomplete,
let it forage for our feeling.
I swell this curtain-rag through
a period of activity, & you broke, now a shard
riven the billow.
So ends, & ends the sail.