from Downtown Brooklyn #5 (1996)

PERUSE THE MAP TOWARD

home so to speak of
seeking direction in
all the little lines and
circles and arrows point out
things that is their purpose
and to pierce my my
temple as I trace my
finger along the plexiglass
trying to locate yr street

on this fucking map but
seeing only yr teeth yr shoulder


WHAT ARE THE WAYS INFORMATION

is processed through the space lying
between your teeth and my
belly or through a space that
lies strung out like lights
blinking and connecting your ear
and my breathing? a question
whose answer might mark the
way to a place, a fence of
stone guarded by many dogs, a

place of blue and green edged
out into darkness by yr silhouette


AUTUMN IN BROOKLYN SPIRALS

in and out of me as I
finally admit it yes I am
the source and center of all
events in my field of
vision a deceitful word promise

fill it up to the first ding
but get out on the head
out to the highway radio
blaring to find the tank and
yr throat as empty as each
other yr voice escaped to become
my voice, uttering the line
that follows
this one