1
dome
under
forms
“and love”
“my father isn’t around”
mekatooompalatanengbasoooo
Ill be around for you, boooboo
Ill be around for you, boooboo
foofoom poopswoot
whose meaning
belly ground mewling
make time for phloegm
outside youth churning
carols for Lorax
family time for Brecht’s
foundry
grey like Mozzer’s mouth
no pizza for you!
2 HOW ON EARTH DOES LIFE
turn back north
call forth Thoreau
used to feel pity
used to feel pity
yet somehow youth
appear happy
get to swim each day
on your property, V
cool river water
problem
sent to myself no
to Trish well I could
deliver to Coco or is
it a message facility of
prisoners in low-security
gathering for the benefit
of Tito Sir
sorting through stuff belonging
to us, retrieval of old tool box
suddenly our office becalms
“austerity will do it”
I only keep to myself
in rainy county
high on the hill beside
friends who squat in a home
loaned to youth unseen, V—
it is astonishing what youth
penned last June, some
kind of manifesto
“and love
and love
and love
and love”
3 GLOSSALLIARY
why insist I join Minna
demand I top
before giving head
aerate later in the
nude
by indoor pool
old friend from Manila days
re-introduce themselves
Vicente
offers new strain of lime
walks up huffing to admire
how certain fashion trends
twirl
to shin
come barreling down till
cloak fits our director of
photography
4 NOSE BLEED
in childhood home you can never return
happiness. However
enters empty closet
in greenhouse
where Mama runs the plow, rows
upon rosebush of budding produce
with sodden price tag Mama grunts
into velvet apron, onwards to the
newly-painted shed, goes to pray
over it
drawing phlegm
5 BUZZ ALDRIN
“I took my skateboard and rode the last
of the sky on that moon,” Aldrin tells
me, folding hands together
as I look up at
stairs
in space
“Put your tunnel on,” he admonishes
inside our shed, a calm Bohemian
in terry-cloth apartment. My penis at rest.
Later, when we re-visit the thrill of the
New World’s Stage, I admire hats
designed by Pablo Hidalgo
when the artist starts his fashion line
closeness between our music
images of a century where soldiers
wear such drift on their baby’s’ sleeve
airport handler loses luggage & you
have zero choice but to carry on kindly
like morning gasp of goodbye