the golden sounds of the underground

was off work today
body breaking down, forget
the rest of the world
 in an ulcerous sleep.

lost the rx lost the drive
lost composure to survive
but the bed's too hard on my hips
no water means dry cracked lips

and i didn't die so oh my
another day to face. i should erase
this all but if this is what comes out
who am i too cry or shout

the gods come in the gods go out
like ghosts with purpose and clout







*&*^^^^^






Some publication is looking for a restaurant crit. meals on da house. yummm









&*^&















i only want half this cigarette. jazz
from the forties in my box. my belly's
beginning to ache again. my older sister's birthday
i missed it again. she won't mind, all these years dead.
sometime in the summer, from the wounds
we call upon ourselves in the name of life.
in the moving strife in the paralyze partialized, dramofied
living sometimes you fall victim to the gods intentions gone awry
how high does that fly, march, march my love, until we die.