I have grown out of the sock drawer. a vagrant unfit holed structure that still somehow keeps you warm.

Right about now, the devil, all come hither and cosmic slop, will claim his corner. He’ll flash his chest muscles and grunt your entire Christian name in a way you ain’t never heard before. Ignore him, but keep an eye trained in his direction.

A teacher says You don’t know how to relax. I am afraid of hair

in the drain. When I close my eyes, I see jet pollution. A silent

monk stops me walking to dinner. If you live a long life, he writes

on his miniature chalkboard, You will be old.

executive

decisions

needs dying

in congress

I like the look of old, liver-spotted hands
Playing Rachmaninov with complete agility
Pounding out the chords or whispering the pianissimi

Because I was brown
they cocked their thumbs
aimed pasty forefingers
at me while they shouted
‍ ‍ Take that, Geronimo!