hung out with Penn
drinking 7’s at The Mermaid
3 am with cheap tacos
on the corner
as cars hiss up
the avenue
with faces
unnamed as clouds
as death
moves lipid
through darkness
looking for
the next customer
hungover
in a one room
bleeding Ezra Pound
with dreams
of butter blondes
and birds
eating seeds
from my hand
as my
words
crawl back
to
the
dark