New Poem for Jacob

Spontaneous combustion of several mystery elements
occurs in my brain as I huff on this duster
going "Woo Woo Woo"
I pass out for a minute
the car drifts off the road
my friend has to steer it
into the bushes

This the goal
not an abberation
we are playing a game
with a foregone conclusion
but that does not make it a failure.
Success most do not want
to understand my body
is a temple full of money changers

Jacob, Jacob
Can you hear me?
Last night I dreamed of you
exactly as you are as I love you.
I was walking in Philadelphia with two older women
I wanted to Impress
talking about Bukowski,
I was very very impressed
and I saw you, so simply,
I saw you
and could do nothing but fall
down flat on my nose
weeping laughing farting
you weren't even happy to see me
you were wearing headphones.

not much, almost nothing,
but this is what we have now,
empty pocketbooks and nothing to say
at least to each other,
our backs toward each other,
screaming on a dark slide
naked on a warm night
don't you remember.
Can you say you hate me?

You might even be angry
were you ever to read this poem.
That's why it's a good poem,
or at least that's where I am right now
in thinking about poems.
but if this does reach you,
know this,
the most beautiful poetic sequence
ever I have heard,
ever I could dream,
which I try but can't capture
is the movement of your voice
describing yourself falling
down the spiral of a phone cord.
A black phone, chained to the wall.

My whole life is but recollection
of dream congregations
all of my friends gather together
there are so many!
we are all shirtless, it is sweaty in the summer!
What it is that we gather around
cannot be seen,
but was once known to me,
or I believe that it was,
and will try forever to understand again
as simply as I did in that picture.
It's somewhere in my drawer,
underneath the socks,
next to the pot,
a book mark in the bible

dutch oven of mourning

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