Energy ghost needs a bath
and some affection.
god becoming.

The party from Paris
saunters by with their parasols,
mushroom caps in arousal.
the plane above flies for Boston,
warm maze of cellars below

you're a sorceress,
emissary of the green seas,
but let me keep you.
your brothers can be my guests.
palm trees claim the highways.

As the stag pants after the waterbrooks,
so pants my mind after you , O gods!
My mind thirsts for gods!
For living gods!
When shall I come face to face with gods?

Psalm 42

I want:
either your body without soul
or a soul on fire.
Nothing in between!

a sack of flesh exudes musk.
a seated man smokes basil.
his favorite program runs for three hours tonight.
beneath a comforter, couch against the window--
don't ask him for directions,
don't ask strenuous questions,
like why the tides recede,
or why the snails get stuck in the tidepools.

when he thinks of snails he sees them buttered or sliced thin for a salad.
when he thinks of the tides, they break against olive-skinned asses.
on the couch like a fishing net in the sand.
he snares nothing, and dries.

You can rise on a wafer, or take my sorry ship.
On your way, keep the bag's contents hidden.
Make 'em think it's potatoes you got,
and keep to the side roads between cities.

Memory is the groping air surrounding the tightrope.

May Detroit return to forest.
Pools of history beading,
proofs under seedlings,
theses under rubble.

Oh shit, the verb the truck is on fire! The thread that connects us threads through the old growth. Let it burn so we can meet. I light the flame tonight > charge the sigil. Let the sky set fire! May the sun fly sideways. Let the earth spin out of place. May the half moon look like an upside down bowl.

In the triangle, you have to walk like an assassin.
But after a while, the duende defers to you,
and a tantamount act of humility is in order.

Huh. Language fails me, but I take my hat off to it.
A person is a god in their own house, and that's where hats come off.