cow-girl

my mouth is shut like a smart boy
my tingle tongue moves back and forth like sway
hips how
much will you pay to walk around my mansion
when i am dead, thirty-five-dollars
who knows
what madness looks like even if it wasn't her face
all drugged on grabby hands
wants to be wants ons
on the mirror or on any flat glass surface
for me to grind and snort
i am writing a poem in snow with my piss
i am melting prescription pain killers with my pain
laying on my side so my fat liver can fucking work
sleeping for the rest of your poem
or what i am telling you
is
how stand-still are you standing still
how is this not happening
a creative mad man
a swivel hip jive
a dick in the barn bed
rooster says get the fuck up off your flat stomach
fill those guts with guts to tell the honest lines
like i miss you always
even on satalite feeds from hawaii or where ever brooklyn is at
i cant say
i've been roaming so long
ducking the shots from east to west train riders
or native peace loving war lords
or the big scary oily birds
or the thick syrupy oily words
your life is a disaster
each skin thing a dying
each line on your hand and foot a knife spot
each heart i create another heart is needed to replace
a sinking chest feeling
a brain in the center of my brain body
how desperate is the travel
the stretch of arm to arm
to arm
to great big smiling city
to eyes in my mind of this lady's lakes
to my swimming like a dumb dog
to my surfing into outterspace
to the space between two people
to the space between two poems
to the space between two mouth moves
to the space between space
between space