Poem 6, 09/24/18


The birds are wailing in the mango tree

I never sit here

Beside me are large and little ants tracing maplines around me (am

I being mounted?) and a dog with tired pruney nipples might eat the curly shell

*

I knew I’d come for a walk like I do every morning but i didn’t want the sun down by the river I wanted
                            shade

Now I am here and the day is coming with (somewhat lofty) demands

:
MAKE YOURSELF INTO THE SLAUGHTERED                                     THOUGHT INGENUINE AMBASSADOR CHANGE YOUR SKIN BECOME TOUCHABLE TO THE ANTS           
BUY MORE COCA LEAF
PLANS, B… &?
BREAKFAST