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Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Lines from Club Charles

xv. nude on the ledge

62 trillion in the red
the sun’s angel face
a passing fad
I saw words in the wrong
places, curves in the stitching,
L-O-V in the Braille
of old adobe,
snakes in the talons
crossing the freeway
some kind of hieroglyph
on which I was stuck

sunbathing nude on San Francisco
TAXI in the wind
as mirrors caught my beast
in every dimension.
Liberty’s invisibility today.

Liberty is a tan ass,
no word from Washington or NYC.

Because I was
and the other side of the story
always made me less brazen
I listened to my enemies converse
and saw the limits of the universe

helpless as a baby
frisked by security
in permanent emergency
and decided to impose my will what may.

Because I was
middleamerica as a crying cheerleader,
no rocketfire ministry argument stalemate
no logistics or TV timeout
would pause the march

toward quiet days we wanted loud
and louder.
Consumer piano, play over me.
One option only
confronts my day:
children laughing English, Spanglish, Japanese, Hello
canceling to traffic moving
toward 61 trillion in the red below.


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