POEM


I my best to confuse the audience--

Ask me how I'm losing weight. . .

Sausage!

& my hands turned into a notebook

to reach through the cosmos & scrape my face out.

The piss-light's over San Francisco like a slouch

as the modern lovers wear their incest down Market St.

like a badge--

like a send my love to you sign on the window.

I came by the way of the half-breeds & lesbians

& I'll be home with buckets of gold heart.

Cash horror & low starfire these days--

I'm guided by voices.

Is that all there is?