thinking about shaving my face



i have dashes in my throat
mashed fruits fruit juice
comb pulp through my beard
yr fingers are making me woozy
to say say say say say say say
drunk on all of yr all of  you
w/o taking time to breathe
a doozy of weekends in my
brain the tongue is blah blah
in ear of spanish oil or spanish
leather or tips of my walkers
find shelter in stormy hops
over puddle in pitstop toward
where i am not clip ship
sailor my starry meds night
to southern here & southern
as hell is poem as warm in
the winter of my fur growth