I Heart L.A. - Subtle

i’ve got what letters one would need to spell winter

safe in the belly of a white paperpinch

i hurried folding

this is exactly the sort of mood that

i cannot watch movies in

boys nerves all yelling «arm» into the blood brain barrier

ganging up on now inside the big bone holding up my face…

my father was born in the 40's

they had just finished erecting the oakland apartment

i now live in…

since then…

two single mothers and a man who cut his face have lived there.

day after day…

this is the day after desperate

my room has filled with

day and night

and night and day

since then…

my father has called twice and left a message

the electricity is on…

these are the least of my worries

the moles on my penis remind me of skulls

and all the doctors who would quickly

cut them off and eat them

as they take down art in hotel hallways

probably to the tune of plain old heart failure on a rollaway

they hurt in the dull

at the hinge to both eyes

the no place of an ache

where you push and pull when trying to fall asleep

soon things kick in severly at the nape

of my patience

as the worm inside my spine contracts

i see me pouring cum out of

the corner of a dug up shoebox

across the hope lump of an old pet

onto a large bundle of grain

i think what’s wrong with the world

has to do with those who fell in love with new york

or los angeles or paris and jerusalem

and me of course

flagged in modern sneakers

and perfume of my morgue mouth meat adore…

if i could only travel back in time and kick my mother in the face after

a permanent

this would nothing

and feel better or worse

in the necessary softening of all my bones

there is more to life than manicured vaginas and a saline solution

the no place of an ache dangles

body all around it.

i’ve got no new spelling of the word winter

for the me on the other end of this airplane.