where my boys at?



a culpable thing is happiness

a theiving moment

dusk over water, gold-brown water

or else a timeless scene in a culvert

a stagnant one, one slated for demolition

vis a vis and pending

some fucked airport construction



I was insane on the bus

someone said later I stood on a seat

and proseltyzed -

I always knew I had nuts.

Big ones. I should have been a brawler

a loudmouth I should have fucked shit up

in the days before -



it's impossible to view an airplane now

as anything other than a death vessel dream

like dreams I used to have in Brooklyn of fire craters mayhem

but those weren't prophetic. spend some time in Brooklyn

if you can't feel me. vodka in a blue bottle. some fucked

puerto rican kid trying to lure me to the ATM - take out all your money -

spend it on girls - he crazier than I in his junkie garb. you,

motherfucker, are going to die trying -



happiness. here now gone. I see some everytime it snows.

and I mean bad.

drink a beer out there in the shelter. but I get so sad when the sun

comes back