24 hour

early this morning my kid
has the flu. he's drifting
in and out of cramps,vomitting
with out anorectic aid
each little hydro pod.


try too hard. so what. i like
to try too hard. but only when i'm writing.
this is why my writing will alwaze suck.

need a smoke. been wanting to make cookies
for a week. but cookies are not something you
make alone. there must be an audience
someone to eat the things. i would call and wish
everyone a merry new year but you know what?
u know what? they don't really want to hear from me.

b/c that would be a choice between being real
and saying nothing. everyone's sick at my house.
me, in the head, girl with bronchitis, boy with bug
the man with love. how can he deal with this
constant doubt? ok, let me put myself over
in his place cuz i was there. the age thing
doesn't matter. but you see, um, i was able to support
myself. d didn't have to worry about money on me
but i bet he tells himself that he did that he blew
everything on me. well blow it up, and start again.
i spose that's what happens.


ok so last nite i told him how hard
it is to give my love to him, his age
is what prevents it. how the prognosis
is so poor. he asks me why not believe
we'll be in the 2 percent who'll survive?
cuz ummmm, that's never been my karma?

o but look. it sort of is. surviving
perhaps b/c i don't/haven't put all my faith
in anyone else? so there's the itchy mangy
finger pointing it out. i don't know when i lost
that ability if i ever had it. faith in others
to betray me. i gained that thru s and d. because self
interest in what rulez in this world. it is in my
interest to have the man here b/c he gives me monetary
breathing room, lots of sex and lots of love.
he really does. and his return is scant.
only his love is....tiring. i need to define
what love means to me. consideration of the community
in which you live. lately he's been playfully rude
with my son. i don't like it. but it's so juvenile.
it's what testosterone does it might be what he needs.

the poor boy is so sick. it's one of those viruses
that runs quickly, strafes the body into vile vomituos pain.

last nite was new years eve. i suppose that's a good time
for introspection. then we stayed up late talking. he
wants political power. heh, don't we all? i need to help him
stay focused on getting to school. he's so afraid of how time
will pass him by on that front/ i am good for him now
becaz he doesn't have the responsiblity of family.
how is that fair to my family? but what he has is an ability
to become immediate. does everyone have that
or is that a similarity between us? join in to the crowd
then drift away from it b/c i was never really a part of it?


the deliriousness of virus is akin to what labor is like.
you float in and out of consciousness which only involves pain
and the lack of it. when it's gone, you sleep or breathe.
this is why we don't remember the pain but we know we don't want it again.

anyway, tho. i did it twice.

i wonder about that woman in arkansas
who shoots out one a year. in fact i know
i don't want to be her. but she seems happy.
content. placid and organised. a good fodder mill.


i want to talk about the fireworks but i can't.

when we got on the bridge i looked north to the causeway.
the necklace was gone. there is a darkness covering
the water like a beast in hibernation. the lights
are gone as surely as if they'd never been there.

at the boiler plant, steam joins fog. a brazilesque scene
which never looses its power to terrorise me. i went there
once with a byrd. walked the perimeter in a centimeters mindspace
learned then unlearned the inner workings of power
pressure explosive behind the valves. tubes
leaking and muscled into substitution. retrofitting the politix
of maintenence. he took me out several times but choked
on the menu at Pacific Wave. then on the bill i decided
at that point
being his whore was def a low rent
contract. no thanks. but he was good
with his tongue. cock the size of new hampshire. the inter
state is finished now through this section of pinellas.
it was the last untouched bayfront but now sports
hedgerows of condos built on depelted landfills.
commerce and industry making inroads. build
the edge of the bowl then cry when it splashes on you.


woah. i'm going nowhere and everywhere. the lanes
are cruchy but smooth. pnut butter to our jelly.
i hope the fog doesn't get worse like remember
that time on the way back from new orleans?