hospice poem
I wonder if, someday, I’ll be watching tv
while waiting to die. A son I haven’t met
yet will say ma, can you use the flicker? I’ll
watch the quiet channels, where the
buddhists are burning down villages.
how hard is it to be alive?
who is out the window
who is on the fire escape
why do men make movies
with princes then jerk
off, ruining new dresses
then take you out for manhattans
on the moon and
say oh you’re so creative
raw silk is hard to get semen out of
describe the mask
describe the noon
describe the fork
end of life care is for the birds
the world would be better
if books could get you pregnant
imagine all the cribs
all the crib legs
to gain followers I use my body then
I lose them with my poems
wat do you want a grey text says
with no question mark
I say to the wall
to be in hell
do not worry, sick-winged little bird
we all end up on the fire-escape eventually
as for me, I have all the patience in the world.
