Blue Flesh, Smoke Lies

Sometimes I see you standing there, Sometimes I’m free

Lyric from ‘Down Here Below’ by Abbey Lincoln

You cannot

 See your own calm eyes

 Speak  lust

 Of the ages

 livid sex has

 Nothing to say

 So I want to possess it

 “So we are cast out.”

Joe Dracula on the way to the Village-ball, 1963.

Behind my cigarette

Every inch blue light

 Swirl near death

 Making bent shadows pass on your face

“You know all my deceits.”

 Gravelle mumbling and drooling on City Jail wall, 1958.

 Stretched on

 A panther,

 Blackblue Hair,

warns and beckons

Wet torso

Never still await

For any serenity to impose “Forget to listen to forget”

Lanston leaving the Village 1938

Rip apart text

Of previous days

So the words fall

At our feet

No more real

Thought separates us

 Cold sheet

 Warps your stomach

 it watches your erections while you

Sleep to the pulse in the room

I think you are dead

It is 4:29 and ‘Blue Gardinia’ is on Nightmusic

I smoke Pluras

and realize you are really burying me

I hear you murmur “let’s go out.”

It’s Halloween in the Village 1978 last night

for last night.