concerto in d major

i wonder where you are tonight


sleep ing in some junkie drag down flat
lost in toronto
are you st.ill alive

it's been over 2 years since i heard from you
can't find your family any more / every one
disappeared / gone / like you

i tuck our child in to bed / he is six now
he knows
some thing is different about him

different from the other children who fell
from my body


who's your daddy child / /








i take pills now / again
to knock me out / try to sleep

that nite lee
wake wake wake

pain. the key word


body shuts down mind
refuses to think

& all this snow
makes the funniest shadows / odd like

not static / moves constant changes
cycle back to water


so if all this condensation / this moisture
winter white / does water / cloud be come
sparse some where else / drought - -
i mean / if we have all this snow
all this snow / is some one dying of thirst
some where else in the world / / /
more late night stupid questions

kinda like "where does the sun go when it sets"

um, it puts on it's pajamas & goes to bed






i guess.





you see / i'm losing time again
it's the can't remembers / very spacy
is prolly how my kids would describe me


i for get every thing they tell me
i wish i could be a better mother / more there
in a mental / help ful way / / may be some how
it's preparation for when i'm not here @ all



see it's impossible to for get the things that change
a person / love is one of those things / anger too



i'm scared of guns / the possiblity / the finality
of 2 shots to the head / bang bang through the heart
yer dead.

yet scott says:
i think of it as a hammer / a tool? i reply / he tells me
how many guns a cop has / i'm shocked / slightly turned
on by the danger of it / & frightened for him / not sure
why / perhaps i'm looking for clues too
we change the subject to poetry &
our children




each day
eats me
a bit more
takes big black bites
out of my proverbial soul
ah but what is soul
certainly not me
i'm the big black bites
slow lee eat ing my self
i have be come
the day / lost nites / the bear er of cliche'

for this i am sad / / so i read about poets
dead ones / because i don't relate to the living ones
how sad ness & trauma ruled / out rage ous
behavior / often destitute / & i wonder why
i didn't write more than graffitti when i was young
imagine being emersed in punk & drunks & drugs
& not getting it down / i can hard lee remember any more
the names have all slipped from my mind





where is dark man
why has he for saken me