from: “FOLKTALES”

1

Chance,
send riches riches.

I am deep in debt
to the spiritless light.

What I mean,
I am trapped

in this design.
Blow please gently,

put some hurray
in my hard hands.

Night comes,
shows its breath,

not like that.
I don’t know,

I watched
a Dulac

that incited
man hysteria

and I spent
the day outdoors

and did something nice
for my parents.

I thought about
the public

and worried about
the state

of the poet who
in 2025 is still

pleasuring himself
to angsty despair.

I played notes
through the gold liquid

sweep of the bell,
and I swore

scissors would never
touch my holy head.

But these creeps
have some real

parade energy.
I’m drawn

to the big floats
with their pensato

disquiet and
tethered humor

are speaking.
Listen, sweetie,

we are all
feeling it

how at the end
some trade.

Lie next to me
for one moment,

a tendril, without
your pants,

put your seeds
in the night drawer,

think slowly,
slower.