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300 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 1986
The scene changes
Five hours later and
I come into a room
where a clock ticks.
I find a pillow to
muffle the sounds I make.
I am engaged in taking away
from God his sound.
The pigeons somewhere
above me, the cough
a man makes down the hall,
the flap of wings
below me, the squeak
of sparrows in the alley.
The scratches I itch
on my scalp, the landing
of birds under the bay
window out my window.
All dull details
I can only describe to you,
but which are here and
I hear and shall never
give up again, shall carry
with me over the streets
of this seacoast city,
forever; oh clack your
metal wings, god, you are
mine now in the morning.
I have you by the ears
in the exhaust pipes of
a thousand cars gunning
their motors turning over
all over town.- A poem for record players, pg. 27
My soul I gave without my knowing
Yes more than life I gave to Love
And never knew the price I paid
I stole for Love to ease his pain
And for this theft am paying more.
And all to keep his soul from going.
No knock now on the door, no step
upon the stair; I paid the price
that Love was asking and for this theft
To Hell am paying. He's gone, will come
no more and left a memory that's too poor.
I cannot tell the day from dreaming; he's gone
and left my heart so sore.- Sonnet, pg. 90
Moving like a dream through Ibiza
through midnight cities of the world
buying dreams of men/and their hearts
to hang at dressing tables, how many ornaments
to wear for dinner, or selfish supper parties -
this sin does not show by candlelight, their children
do not hear that cry in the night, off pregnancies
aboritons are not counted, smashed faces
wrenched hearts left behind at harborside
when their ships pull out.
I speak of suicides, men dropped at tide.
I speak of sleeping pills that still our aching mind.
I speak of lovers they murdered because they are so kind.
Anything to stay beautiful and remain blind
To those men they turn into swine.- The Garbos and Dietrichs, pg. 101
1) the sensation
of 10 assorted dancers
in a crowded dining room
2) moving as one person
in unison
to a popular tune
3) during late afternoon
hip and thighs beat
with sparkling feet
4) over the stucco floor
before an open door
how fortunate, how poor
5) we were without the sign,
symbol of recurrence
of occurence
6) surrounded
by buff walls
it was not a waltz
7) only a standard rock
song, much as students
speak in rejoinder
8) to a classroom; the same decibels
happened in a bookstore when I rose
using the newspaper I had as a fan;
9) the leaves of clover
fluttering these three
unities I have known
10) as a tone to a bell's
gong, none of them
lasting longer
11) than 10-12 seconds
pressing history, light
in memory reckoned.- Stop Watch, pg. 114-115
A chair of frustrated ambition
piled with yesterday's papers
in an unpaid room draws
haphazard mementoes' heedless
acquisition, an ivory cigarette holder,
scarves from Paris, stolen necklaces,
orphan gifts from another dynasty,
scotch jiggers a propped-open window,
the final film to passion's desertion.- Inoperable, pg. 161
Perhaps some day you shall find me,
as I blow smoke out of my mouth
While you walk the riverbank
in the rain on Sunday evening.
Looking for jazz, hearing love's bellows
Beauty is mine, perhaps some day you shall find it.- Goodbye, pg. 183
For the second time this afternoon
I have seen my face in the mirror
the face of a young man
sufficient to encounter the weekly newspaper
and university cinemas, able to cope at
crowds of intellectual youth, fathoming the plots
of friends and still bent upon being loved,
through worldly success from speed
song and sexual experience.- The Face of an Angry Man, pg. 250
writing is an act of repulsion
exiling autograph hounds
although I feel better leashing
my own identity within bounds
never o'er stepping reasoning's
impulses upon sacrificial grounds.
Telling truth, better re-found two ways.
Abdicate dishonest poems.- Rubbish, pg. 267