"Satellite dish walks" I called those long, sleepwalking dazes -- black pants to the sea, harbor for breasts, train bridges my virginity-- To remain among the lanterns, joyous dancing via Abigail Chase, my darling, I hear the glass bottles -- all her birds, collecting inside on those walks to the shore -- Cardboard house at the silver neighborhood, turning down to (kissing glitter) sing neon, snowing umbrellas, sometimes, even now birds set in watches, Gold Lazarus Jewel Box, Shuttlecock Volva, Heavy Bonnet, Sparse Dove, Strawberry top, all sea shells floating passed in a satellite dish walk. In what my father refers to as the music heartland of America, to spit songs right now, mockingbirds get drunk in Alabama, get teeth in Nashville, Tennessee -- Silver lines through gas station, at dawn, an old paralegal (of course we were wasting money on malt liquor) but he was trying to commit suicide, drink to death, me trying to gather legal council. He could be considered my late night lizard of May 7th, the rust on his trail made obvious marks on my shedding body, but underneath this night, on satellite, so weird, on seeing lightning laughing, you rain, perch at the Estuary -- trees painted static -- A 1950's surrealism, with black stinger I pull from my knuckle On these nights I would get inspired by free vacuums-- young boys, with broken umbrella, running with lanterns -- even finding pages open to cherry blossom -- Accompanied by bells -- sneak around with three of us for a night, sleeping in canopy, drums, Ushi. On the roof two cheeseburgers -- broken umbrella, running -- white owl floats by in boats during these satellite dish walks in thick fog, Sleeping hands growing with, but broken, perch at the Estuary -- Candy colored lights -- seeping back dawns ghost -- That is me, large face, reacting to the mirror -- Honey, we from mirrors, NY, I wanna tell anyone with questions -- 7 billion of us, you got options, honey, rain rinsed over, paper lanterns, feather child, you can dance at night fall in the rain -
