What kind of shore did
we wash ourselves upon
my beloved

What kind of sword did we
impale ourselves upon

I know you can feel this
shit
(spooky action at a distance
bitch)

Did you hear my
poems

Voice stangled within
you

I could have been the oxygen
in your blood

You could have been the blood
in my veins

If you loved
me you'd show up on
my doorstep hidden as I
am in Montana

Impossible demand for
an impossible love

You never knew the eagles
that were my friends or the
huge holes in my stories

Whitman and Ginsburg
can we all show each other
our New Yorks
(I'm ashamed of mine,
just kids staring at their phones)

Walt could show us wildnerness and
farms of Brooklyn

Perhaps we'd all be happiest with Allen
in some hopped up junky dirt
jazz cafe with whiskey in foggy
glasses

Take us to filth of alphabet city
then we could hide on lawns of
Union Square with the waning hippies

ROCINANTE

Sacred machine
we were made by
the same hand
the same god

My life force
flows into you
stainless metal perfection

Black thunderous
murder combustion

Blood bonded sweat
dreams fears glory
death we embrace each other
the way we understand each
other

Should I prepare
myself for the invisible
golden throne

The one I gave my
new diamond heart to
all those years ago
in India

(the ecstatic tide of your
poverty and opulence
mama India)

Fake silence
fake lives

Try to be like everyone
else with perfect fake lives

Fake lives crumbling ask me
why I'm not like them

(freedom lingers strong
this road never ends,
too stationary to follow,

I was only someone you
knew once)