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from the notebook (11th nov 2010)

how good it feels
to stuff
the cabbage
I've tattooed
a squint
of humour
below yr nipple

watch this space
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
my fingers
touch celestial
juice
-----------------------------------------------------------
Concrete Pier (Trieste, Italy)

across from the Piazza Unita
sitting
on a metal mushroom
sculpture
teenagers in shaggy
clothing
sit on a concrete
pier
looking out over
light and ripples
bora gone quiet
a circle of blue lights from steady traffic
i write with neon
green pen
ipod shuffle spinning in my ear
this is dog heaven
my mouth is dry
I've no Italian
no major meltdowns
have metamorphosis
habit bad
11/11/2010
I've forgotten the date
for thanks-
giving
mornings serve nerves
this is the history
of punking poems into existence
ready to blow
you
into the empty spill
if you go ahead
and ask

------------------------------------------------------
cut moon, silvered
sick uhl
moon
you're all
I've got
--------------------------------------------------------------
Dog Park (Trieste, Italy)

lattice work all
around
I keep a lighter
in my pocket
my bowels full
on coffee and water
ipod still spinning
I'm ignoring yr doggy heaven
------------------------------------------------------------------
I've skipped a page
the leaves are mulching
I can see my breath
heaven to Betsy
the voices you know
wouldn't say yes
wouldn't say no
whatcha wanna do with
this wheel of history
I'm a night sniffer
a light sleeper
the voices
you know
----------------------------------------------------------------------
commune di Trieste
come on
Trieste
I'm still shooting
my wads
all my kind
they come
and go
come and go
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

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