p & cheese

flattened hair, reaching back under the
coat to get a piece of cheese, "what will I write on, a co
py of dramalogue?"  breathing out, in, out. scrap
ing out, in, out. scratching my crotch, "don't wake up," sleeping a

alone, an ant crawls up p's thumb an stops
at the knuckle, little arms waving and searching for a
nother pair of waving arms, "don't
blink, don't. forget that each pair of shoes is an underval

ued piece of junk. the ants move up the scar a
cross the upper thumb knuckle and meets arms that are not mov
ing, longer and dead, p breathes a
gain, out, in. the ant asks, "remember, me?" the ant waves its arm.

"I'm your deactivated soul, wake up
and move over to the other side of the street," stomach ache,
two eyes open and float up a
bove the street light; ants have formed a line on spring street east of

second street and surrounding the l.a.
times building. floating up above union station and look
ing north; mount wilson lights: a fire
is burning pasadena: a single spot of diesel fu

el holds two eyes reflected around oil
ly colors, red and purple; the ants begin to move, car
rying eggs up to hill into
the metro and descend to: the eyes turn over in the oil.

p's eyes and ears 

Eyes open, a leather jacket with silver
Studs: stars a metallic noise; someting scraping. Not clear.
Hearing works better in the morning,
Hearing, a moth flies into P's nose - rubbing and poking. Sitting

Then standing. The moth is fleeing through the dark
Tunnel, up. A motor starts. And rests around the corner, wings
Lighting and periodically beat
Ing (P's face tickles). The motor stops and sputters for several

Seconds. Moth, "Where is this allusion to
Shakespeare, you're thinking about?" P cannot move, wants to and
The motor starts again and is shut
Off: one minute to seven, P says, "I have to re-think the cri

Sis in Lear," the moth beats harder and cannot
Move, want to! Stuck in fluid: Vibiana's bell beats seven
Times: Gone, P's hearing it again, or
Again hearing something like a hammer against a sewer hole co

Ver. "Convinced that no effort will have val
Ue," lasting or otherwise, pleasure as opposed to wis
Dom, intelligence, knowing the dif
Ference between an ant and a termite - nothing about the con

Crete is safe. One more hand comes up over the ladder, the
Ladder, the goal, the proper pace and position yielding
The pain as it pushes against the
Seams in the concave circle of rusted metal wrapped outward,

"The making of reality is the es
Cape from the hole," the release in transition and arguing
"You can take words and not mean," not once,
Open it, take one or many.  The additions are the divi

Dends: one waits at the back door, blue eyes and
Gray hair, "Will it produce pleasure?" The edge is cracked from wa
Ter and age, "Dismantle thought and go
Under the door," under the red pine trees glowing in the dark.

p & beard

the beard rests on the shirt.
among the teeth are pieces of bay leaf
across the street
a concrete barrier to protect anyone from fall

ing debris, immobile: one corner for two months
one corner for two months, "do you remem
ber how these trees
find water?" his head, at the foot of a wall

is bent to the side: snor
ing into the concrete sidewalk, stuck to
the saliva 
around the collar on the coat - his knuckles are

bruised from pushing a
way from rolling into the street, a knuc
kle becomes a
brake; head in place without feeling the tears in the

skin, the tears streaming
down around the lips onto the chin a
gain looking up
at a building an realizing my gums are bleed

ing - the eye protru
ding from the beard and away from the face
onto "my" hand.
responsible: let me tell you, a cat walks by

no longer standing free
ly and by their own muscular effort
dangle from in
visible strings, head knocked off and bent to the

sides; changing from effort.
from volition - the car drives itself down
the hill a be
ing until stopped by an oak tree; say it's

bludgeoned to a mes
sy pulp and left to rot under the leaves,
the oak leaves and
an acid residue - action does not take place.

San Pedro

3

On the pie, sideways: no sides, no wall
Yes concrete slab, spread out in a receding long
Closing V (touch my toes with my fingernails)
Color can be a key, a gray envelope
And a white eight by eleven, evenly

Folded in thirds, piece of paper: writing is
Spanish: Nuñoz, Marin, Guadalajara, Chihuahua.
Place a dinner mat on the glass table and reach
For a fork - the asparagus spears form a long
Branch, the off shoots with tiny red

Flowers, at the upper third of the branch a
Dwarf or owl sits, "I wish I could turn my
Head like that," somehow the, one way a,
Signature of; take one brown leaf and paint it
This is ochre even though it has a gray tint.

What are these? Colors? H said, "Tomatoes
Are delicious," and I said, "H leads to
Head us to the same place to pee, why?"
Mulholland and I take turns shitting and covering
For each other, "I lost my cup," what was that?

Mulholland stood and sat down, stood up, sat down,
Walked to the fire to spit and walked
To the fire and said, "I alone watch this burn."
"Why," asked H? Parking in a lot with drying
Sweet cilantro flowers and eating them, fingers

Tied together, "Does it make sense," H asked,
"To plug the cable into the wall or to
Bring the wall here?" Mulholland walked to the
Fire to spit, I got up, too. "I can see it 
Burning." What is important, melanoma

And hands and burning the skin deeply enough to
Remove the cancer; H was asleep, Mulholland
Opened the last beer and stood up and sat down
Where the water moves through the street a light
Reflects against the bus. The bus, it must be five

Thirty. I can't see it. What reflection in the
Memory of Mulholland seeks to point north?
Free the guilt: one set of dinnerware is in
A sideboard that is in another room, reduced to
"Will begins in the grass blade pointed north and the

Jay sits in the elm," 

Mulholland clenched his fist and internally
Attacked his liver again, again. A
Gain, where H works for moments, I got lost in....
Lost in inertia, no action: wish becomes the
Extreme corner: the microscopic section where

The taped wall painted over yields a
Small hole: bubbled in painting, in painting,
Paint: red to dawn to yellow, a rat turd has been
Encrusted with millions of ants; tiny heads stick-
Ing out - external - out; H waits for moments

To speak; "I think I saw a big pig," when it
Looks pink: Mulholland says, "I can't force myself to
Feel your pig; your pig!" H stands up, sits down, stands
Up: the concrete wall is hard; his forehead sweats
Sleeping: fades the thought to another picture

Against the light, Mulholland has his body. Has
His grip and a newspaper truck roars by, speeding.
Without, outside I waits for force to move
Coffee donuts week old bread.  Mulholland says,
"Tofu causes cancer." H asked, "What?"

Tense, stretch out, relax. Burn a few calories, then
Relax again, "tambien, otro uno, 
Viente uno." Yellow sulfur lights up
Under a giant eucalyptus tree; the moon
Is so bright I is nearsighted, however

Taller H seems, I walks away, waiting.
Not waiting, walking away, a protestant.

San Pedro

2

Do not empty. Dogs on leash. Do not litter. You
Bastard. I doesn't see my face in the long deep
Store front window; tuxedo's, and state employ-
Ees, Mulholland takes H by the arm, "Don't focus
So hard, H," your eyes bleed sand: your ankles get
 

Sore from the journey, the concrete pie won't
Let you pass, turning around, I smells tacos, my
Mother's hand is in the dishwasher and the glass is
Clear, dark spots on my arm, H waits for the 
Signal, and slowly, crosses Seventh at Broadway.

Mulholland slips out of his clothes and lays
Down on the concrete, next to curb, next to the
Water that, in the street, is splashed by
Thousands of grinning "happy faces", slugs
And a watch band, slugs that are not snails

And know the ocean only as molecular memory
Where Mulholland went I followed and H spent
Money; money that leaked into the strug-
Gle, Mulholland ate roses and if hungry
The color of the street changed to azure,

Wait. Pushing the cart forward I slowly walked
Up Third to Hill; across the street: in the one
Minute since H disappeared; a rainstorm.
Once is happy face, created, brought up between
A thousand birds in late August and Chinese

Elm leaves, the tunnel is a place to stay;
On the other end I waits for Mulholland, waits for
The ficus to bloom, waits for the rain to end.
I is sweating, I's hand is burning after falling
On the pie; the reflection is a wed

Ing dress, gown: anxious feeling in my feet where
Each toe is black, my pants are black, shirt is black.
I looks in the window; the mirror reflects the
Cars behind me on the street "El Jesuchristo"
Universal redemption, a marriage;

Couple walks past into Elvira's wedding chapel.
This is no marriage; no reconciliation,
Years, minutes, days of love, but abandonment, where
Alone: the room is square, in the closet are
Fire crackers, on the dresser is a bowl

Containing flies and chameleons, dying just before
The trip through New Mexico, Arizona,
To Los Angeles, Sepulveda road, "thinking
That San Pedro would be the perfect spot for his
life to end," but forced to a house with

Another yard and death in a motel in
El Paso. A small grain of sand is rubbed into
The corner of Mulholland's eye; next to the
Nose around the curving lip of the tear duct, into
The hole, plugging the hole, so I saw a face

In the window and H pulled I up.
H walked toward I; homunculus: the man
With little legs looked at I from the street, no
Sidewalk level, (my eyes sideways) sweating
And drooling on the ground, I is drooling…

San Pedro

1

Approval is the stretch between Slausen and
The one ten; harbor I can't sense a bay
Or a harbor or a sea, from brown and
Black stucco lies in a stair step that has a wood
A plywood pile. H stops. Here he sits, green pants

And small baseball cap sweating cart garbage
Truck haulers; with a tank turned over behind a
Rusted fence the wood is ply and torn corners
Piled on the stairs stucco with red pencil
Lines airbrush pictures of geese flying in long

Lines; gray night twilight the light stays until now
11pm this city sits; a basal
Cell cancer on H's head, spreading ever out
Ward eating away at never evolving piece
Of wood some burned, some burning others fresh from

A fire circle that smells like burning plywood and
Oil, eating an apple; trying to think of
The antonym for laxative to press crowd in
H sleeps lightly; no, and there is yes "no, and."  The
head isn't what this is all about and it

Implodes in crystal slabs, one sitting down and
Easy to talk about. How incorrectly, to
Ward the blackened trail head, yes blunt and skew
Ed sentence, the "third" person in a poem.
The lie, the all, the lie's where points might be
 

Made. The tall grass growing in clay, where no notice,
Loud raising of eyes in wooden stairwells
Slowly going away to death and a variable
System of deduced non-verity or what?
Truth? You ask "Till the sand is tamped down hard,"

Packed with iron and one's actions
Translated into fate, ah! fate "destiny" in
Inevitably, crouched behind a low wall wait
Ing for you one dead man and countless more under
A layer rocks, gravel, clay: the two year old is

Screaming  this is a schist, a parallel, the
Direction you turn when facing the sun at sun
Rise, brushing his hair H faces south, the blue
Line is up some stairs someone is playing: marines
Hymn and the piano is out of tune dust

Layered into the corner of the stairs
The south side, the cracked stairs, ants flow out in a
Single line, baseball cap off and rubbing his head
H mumbles "figure this out, once I didn't
Wake up, I was forcefully slapped awake

And someone with blue eyes dropped me on my head,"
Parting the wigs on the left H stood back; a grin
Across his stomach protruded "happy face",
Laughing happy face. The donuts disappear
And the portable toilets fill up; fill ...

Higgins Building Pissing

Shut you up you asshole shut you you shut ass
Hole up fingers pointed at the ground then pointed at
The ground it's not a moment where you say figures
It's only figures tightly between thin tightly held white lips
Shut you up asshole you shut shut you you asshole
Up mutter at the hotel sign while pissing on the
Wall the corner one way pink the other gray angled
Vertical plaster ripped away between streets disappearing into deep tunnels
The rails signal to the objects the objects describe themselves
Detailed on a 3x5 card, shut you up asshole

No form here			Say goodbye and disappear
Blank table			The cigarettes and sunlight as
Cloth of white			They choke down choked
Linen D waits 			Down those words approved
By the door No			By the deed
One walks out			Excised removed expelled to
"No money no			Follow home the repellent
No honey" singing		Hangs from the wall the

Circumstances H swears under his breath "shut up you ass"
Impugned against impulse while waiting for for each letter that
Resides on the table to appear definitions are read out loud
"Humiliate, demean, degrade, debase, abase" synonyms you know well that
Knew steps from the kitchen to the bathroom from the
Cardboard bed to the portable toilets catching words flying through
The air in a long curve one, arm, length, wise, at,
Right, angles, paired, with, a, pencil, note, book, scribbled, writing,
Read, it shut up you up you shut you you
Asshole hole ass up you shut you up you you
D stands up the wall leaning against the door

Broadway

4

The broken concrete is placed three inches from
The wall and two inches from another
Broken piece, the gutter placement sits low to
The roof and the water pours over and onto

The road where the sign to show the road has been lost
In mud and vegetable debris,   where
The last piece of decomposed sediment
Rests,  while Goodyear rubber splits and careens away

Tracking and bobbing along the highway, Sixty.
Tulsa is in the past the past, the small
Stone from the crushed concrete rolls over the
Tulsa moon, Tulsa sun, on my way to Dallas

By way of Little Rock, I took my Pepsi and
Sat by a window, window with panes, the
Trees sang until one thirteen a.m.

Broadway

3

The lack and/of chicken head. Where for $1 I can get
A key made and a watchband put on at
The same time, something rings on the light, central
To the smell, dead pork flesh; polio skin, "¿dónde hay,

Buen?" This is a watch face or a concrete pillar 
Or cotton faded from the pants leg up
From the shoes and heels collide. Hear the reason
Some art work is banned and death comes to those who

Remember to clean the flood control grates on north
West corners. With paint, a signature is
My symbol, my life today is a rougher 
Version of a 35mm snap

Shot taken when asphalt is poured and raked.
The curb is broken here; one sign says "men
Working". The 2 by fours are in place and the
Cement truck is red and the giant bucket spins.

The scrawl swings by repeating what looks like the word
Nor, nor what? ¿dónde hay, buen? The lack
Of a chicken head sits by the door and blinks
At my inseam, and I scratch and scratch the lumps on

My head. Where J.J. Co. rang sales ringing the skates split
Splinter into metal shaped around the
Sidewalk. The sidewalk is glue, I'm glued to
A poster, against a tight leg and smell equals...

My head poking up from the moved cover, I
Am a sensation, no bus rolling or 
Finger crushed and a trapped arm under
Gum dropped in the afternoon sun, squirming to 

Get to 2nd street. B gave me back the mirror
And... The key goes in and/but pulls back to roll
Open. The cylinder is wide and round and 
The neoplasm works its lines on the curve  

Under the ear. Hearing what? No relative ease, 
Yes, tumor in conjunction as a 
Celestial sphere, a basketball game for
Speakers wrapped in a tight wad, spat out where

Drops sit on the counter next to the phone/address
Written on a pink post-it and where dust
Has settled lightly on the water surface.
There is still a red dot reflected from the white

Volvo parked on the street.

Broadway

2

I frame things in black aluminum. That is, landscapes
Portraits and parking attendants; the door 
To the store is open slightly, a result of
Earthquake damage, it locks and unlocks and opens

Breaking a figurine set on a pedestal
Placed 22 millimeters from
The edge of the cement grouted between each
Ceramic tile. In the tile ants are lined and

Moving in out of the sun, a weed sprouts missed
By the giant slasher. The line of ants has 
Slipped and split into two lines: on up
The walk, the other into my glass of orange 

Juice, Ring it! Ring twice! The door isn't open,
My finger is gone. My notes are gone. My.
Ring it! Ring  it twice, again! My finger, my
Notes, my head, my finger, my notes, my finger, my

Steel, meat packing, ready-made clothing, equipment
For agriculture, my silence will now
Continue to forget the craft, the work that
Blends several groups and isolates them all by

Never forming into puddles because the hill
Slants to the NE instead. Where to the  
NW, where to the SE 31st street,
I close the taxi door, pay the fare; walk home through

the rain.