The Inhale (13)

A Memory

for mouths. remember the taste of the burning dollar bill, the mossy ember. the inhale.
meant it differently than the other, but they were both beautiful men with spouts
one poet said, and then as if in response: charnel house, said another. one
search from time to time. in the dark off-ness, what does one find? charnel house
it was somehow meditation. felt nothing searched. still search. we still
die. later, on holly street, i used my hands to break plates against the wall and
why not others were doing it and if a man can — again, why not? and i did not
in relation to every man — an impossible task. when i was thirteen i did a thing because
that makes them special. i of course mean me, but think about my self
state of things the big ones derivative in their not caring much about anything;
i interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to wonder about the current

For Yoame

Wikipedia Poem, No. 964

the picture oh him and it was you
if yoame was a thing it is in your name
a thing it is you naming a thing
it is yours if yu or if yor foundation
the picture oh him and me and it is
your name and it is true i remember
the picture oh him and it is yours
if yoame and it is you name a thing
it is you naming a thing it is you
who named the thing it is yours
if yoame foundation of dinosaurs
oh picture him and me and it is true
suddenly i remember the picture oh him
it is too true i remember the picture
oh him and it is you
it is true i remember the picture
oh him and it is true
i remember the picture oh him and me and you