nga champa

india smokes out
my window, open to the trees
and the woman on the sidewalk
who converses with my upstairs
neighbor for the full time
i'm on the phone with you.

i hesistate lighting the joint
the ritual of writing

delayed until her departure.
they have a baby, upstairs
their air conditioner always runs
filling my bed/living room with machinery
between the wash of jets.
i leave my windows open

but the view is gorjus. i can see
out my window as i write now
and that will make some difference i hope
i wont' feel so caved. connection thru the screen
a fly caught between glass and metal
keeps looking for the hole that admiitted it.
down li'l fly. follow gravity.

*













at the u shaped
bar they're crowded close
no one wants to leave to hit the toilet
cuz it's sink or swim and three deep
behind us. got to get the sacred broth
imbibed, follow the pulse of bass
out to the dance writhe like
that couple kisses flame
from the floor. half moon curving S
somehow not clouds but the shape of the earth oblonging
elipsing skin bulging a long shadow from the darkside of noon


this house looks like a writer lives
here. discarded clothes, pine tree papers
scattered money, the important things
kept in the frig.
i am wearing a long white slip pulled
over my breasts. and black under
wear. last nite at the bar we had nothing
to say. we sat like a married couple
among the hormonals. faces came into focus
lonely boy poets
fashoinistas of all the sexes
the poet grrls suitably geeked no one
carried a notebook like i usta when i came here
alone those desperate nights without you.

you wish i'd pick up that girl
with the teen mom eyes

she's here with friends. not
gonna happen. i could be all these grrls' mother.
but no. that's not you tonite. you're barely between here
and interstice of sleeplessness. impulse power
scotty. and i appreciate the gesture tho my estrogen levels
where in the downgrade and i'm sloughing washing
out so really we're both in some kind of funk
detaching from all the sex around here. every once
in a while one of us leans over and tongues
an ear. bass beat humping. my legs, i'm a dancer
want to move so i get you one more drink
then we're in the green spot away from where the crowd
writhes and grinds around each other's crotches boyz n grrlz
in a semicircle get me some o that. phat. but i wanna
twirl and you want to make me. slap that ass.
up agaist the wall. don't push me don't pull
my neck like that, it's a bass attack, writhe an itchy
mass intact against the brick wall about to fall
close my eyes and grab you, pole. find the hole. anchor me here
in the middle of messy swrily sheets beet the feets
a sanguine artichoke of me/a/ets.

percy would you take that meeats and make the e and a move back n forth
pls? html is just toomuch bother.


so dancing...it's fun.
u should try it sometimes.















*





i like what you wrote re razbery chaos.
ms chaos is my fave young female writer. there was
a time when she was trapped in the unicorn's icon
weeded to gaia a li'l too tight but she's
finding her voice and how did she put it ?
casual but not cynical. ready to accept whatever game
they play o this is how it goes i can do that
and wouldn't it be great if there was like this whole
stable of ppl connected to the nexxus who
make it
who become the crest of the next big wave
oh lucious lushous us.


i mean , well. what would that world be like?
what dystopepsia could this buncha poets weave?


do any of us have a vision for a kinder world?
how to get there? i think given how we humans learn best
need i say it
thru pain
a kinder world is not in the cards.
how can that be? how can we integrate the inevitable rascal?
hodder, how did the indigenous do it? oh yes thru allowing
for vision quest fulfillment. it does no good to have a vision
if that vision is squelched when not the accepted paradigm.


so in ritualizing the entrance to rationality
the native american vision quest took teen angst
and channeled it to purpose.

or takes. i hope
that it is still practiced in their communities
at minimum.


when i say allowing for i mean just that.
not garunteeing. the fulfillment is a measure
of the strength of the awia. gotta go
listen to the crow's music.


damn he deleted it. a fit of angst indeed
his note to me. so um, i spose that's all good.
cuz i def do NOt to be someone's anything
i aleady have an anything. but a friend. i like
to have friends you know? hw to do that with
men, right djuana. i should say, like you
that they're too young. that would leave
me safe. motherly. desire a distant tit once suckled.