black and white
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Dear Oblivion
So much light, dear oblivion, night after night; I offered up my body. You refused. I drank. Begged, really. Said my dreams, you don’t belong here. Some countable mornings ahead, crouched in the internet’s dark corners, hands reaching into prosaic brightness, not to gather, but offer: News spreads of a virgin conception. And so much…
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To Psychoanalysis
Wikipedia Poem, No. 938 after Kenneth Koch to die. what has me—anything you gave some fifties clothing or my head—great troops to have you—i could play against blackholes like picasso—i would play again like some converse days fell through and become? you look the karen horney kind all—other something screaming sobbing you gave me any…
wikipoem.org 