Letter 23 – Scare the Moonlight Out of Me

 

The smell of coffee beans in my dream she lusts over

freedom to smell & still be celibate

to indulge in sensuality   not

run

away into a skin-covered opium den of your own making

in your mind where all this starts   gathers momentum as

a

train of impulses  the baseball game is over

from changing the seats  digging the infield   poems written from

my

bed.

 

The Indian says we just want the

freedom

to be left along while he drinks Budweiser

bring me

back 7 pieces of bread & a soda when you go

to the store for eight days

like

the joke says.     I see

beings in the transom    @ night   get

that look on my midnight face   like

I have seen a ghost but I’ve

missed    seen a ghostly blur   and may rue it.

The

freedom

to  drain all your energy into gray hair & wrinkles   to

chase buxom women   or freedom to be

away from all people settle for

the

real black & white fur of your cat.

Apparitions could help you if you let them

before they scare the moonlight out of

me.

 

The

basement scene in the dream

was

marvelous   -  it suggested    an oral stage reenacted

on

a level playing field of all

white   there can be no fellatio   this way only a

wall of silence can not even trap

my

silhouette   satan-like & blustery

in

fiery garb or skin burning

dots of sun

pierced but cdn’t occupy    dots of sun

through

the skin   but cdn’t warm the

heart beating limply

by now we’re going to hell in

a

bucket and ain’t even enjoying the apocalypse.

 

 

6:33AM - 8.23.03

(Phrases taken from Andre Breton – Curtain Curtain)