Back from an MRI brain scan I listen to a Miles Davis album Black Hawk San Francisco 1962 Where a young Latina And I grooved on the vibes
Back from an MRI and At 80
This Is the World We Live in Tomorrow
Before you enter this run-
down house, drink caffeine.
As you approach,
ignore baseball-busted
window on second floor—
you’ll never leave first. Follow
creaky path down dank hall
to third door, the only room
with blue lights dimmed. Take
a seat before the console
of your choice. Start to play
don’t stop. Don’t eat. Don’t
sleep. Let time escape
like the caged bird
from my bedroom,
the last heart-beating thing
touched by anyone
who’s ever come here.
After Dark
Steel on stone
Hydraulic hammers
Artillery like
Shake the ground,
Pulverising
Architecture
Of past decades
Too expensive
For renovation,
Too difficult
Infidelity: A Nightmare
The wife did shrill
toneless wail
some faceless image
We talked of breastfeeding
and when the milk was gone
a red water came through
A Worn Mattress
What care you where he seeks to lay his head
Only the imprint of a man remains
Restrained, restricted, weighted down with chains
In that space alongside you on the bed;
At least he is living that once was dead
His few losses are far offset by gains
For he no longer feels those longing pains
Rejoicing to be more alive than dead.
Compulsion
You will run back into burning buildings,
of course you will, despite all the pleas not
to- you will feel your skin shrink into itself
as you breathe in the heat, your lungs will
protest against the anger in the air, they