Notebook

so_$p0oky.
there's something untrustable about the quiet
of the hartford suburbs
an unease or discomfort
in the laughter at elizabeth park
or eeriness in the bussle
of blue black square

i never felt it in the city
on the stoop
of a south downtown brownstone
a spliff by myself
or drinking with the drifters

a trail of blood to my front door
from the rotary
to the loss
of my own naivete 

i could still walk the streets
even late at night
without some paper ghosts
haunting my steps

only to disappear when i turn around
as if they were never there
++++

4_4.
no belief in borders
still clawing at the walls

& crawling on the floor

i came out the crib
& hopped off the porch

only not so ambitious

& now...

i need those o's

pop the lock
when no one's home

for some reason

the culture got me milk
& now i'm here for the honey
++++

[i]got2chill.
i still feel the fever
from ghost show to graveyard

i crossed ancient markers

slipped away in sleep

pouring spirits
of the old westcott theater

i woke up in the middle
of the dead sea

still

learning to float
while walking on water
++++