Cashew Nuts and Peridot Water

tango, tango, tango

look for an Indian angle
and know Chinese so
you can tell one good line
with the offers he gives you to
sell your petticoat poems
it is the best you'll ever get
since the names of big avenues
you have trolloped along will
come back to you with fury

the pages of a book open like
the petals of a flower
the twist of words oblivious to
the naked eye

so let's get drunk on poems
send them to reviews
to tell your friends about
angels on high looking after you
have wings sticking out
like metal arrows on a
sculpture you craved
in an antique shop

will they listen
will they guard you
from rubies to rust
they cloud your mind
with milkweed pods
and float into your
consciousness like
another heavenly story

tango, tango, tango

there are menus on the road
the hero is a cop
a swing band's haunting melody
drifts out
into the sea in a small
fishing boat in Venice

and I am burning down the
novel
smoke flecking light
pitching two good yet
corrupted manuscripts into
the flames
I am one of the slaves of
adultresses
a puppet


"Found Poemings" 1999