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She begins, and my grandmother joins her. Mother and daughter sing like young girls. If my father were alive, he would play his accordion and sway like a boat. I’ve never been in Peking, or the Summer Palace, nor stood on the great Stone Boat to watch the rain begin on Kuen Ming Lake, the picnickers running away in the grass. But I love to hear it sung; how the waterlilies fill with rain until they overturn, spilling water into water, then rock back, and fill with more. Both women have begun to cry. But neither stops her song.

It’s my belief that every man Should do his share of work, And in our economic plan No citizen should shirk. That in return each one should get His meed of fold and food, And feel that all his toil and sweat Is for the common good. It’s my belief that every chap Should have an equal start, And there should be no handicap To hinder his depart; That there be fairness in the fight, And justice in the race, And every lad should have the right To win his proper place. It’s my belief that people should Be neither rich nor poor; That none should suffer servitude, And all should be secure. That wealth is loot, and rank is rot, And foul is class and clan; That to succeed a man may not Exploit his brother man. It’s my belief that heritage And usury are wrong; That each should win a worthy wage And sing an honest song .... Not one like this — for though I rue The wrong of life, I flout it. Alas! I’m not prepared to do A goddam thing about it.

I believe there is a song that is stranger than wind, that sips the scald from the telling, toss, toss. In the room I move in, a wrecked boy listened to each sky’s erasing, for it was shrill winter, for it was blast and blur. For it was farther from the native birds and the gray heath heather and the uncaressable thighs of the one who shook in violet. Those who fly farthest must always burn the nest. But the mind in its implacable spec- trum dims to brown. Must you die on your back like a cheap engine, rust and wrack? In the crevicing days, there are no words for prizing, be- tween the lidless moon and the silver hands of the fountain. But if it is space you must fail in, teach it din.

I broke the spell that held me long, The dear, dear witchery of song. I said, the poet’s idle lore Shall waste my prime of years no more, For Poetry, though heavenly born, Consorts with poverty and scorn. I broke the spell–nor deemed its power Could fetter me another hour. Ah, thoughtless! how could I forget Its causes were around me yet? For wheresoe’er I looked, the while, Was Nature’s everlasting smile. Still came and lingered on my sight Of flowers and streams the bloom and light, And glory of the stars and sun; – And these and poetry are one. They, ere the world had held me long, Recalled me to the love of song.

living in actual ass under the stars Josie’s experiment easy access to parking and bushes the first few times I feel awful flattened myself against the wall easy access to bulk movements of air dear souls “open themselves up, enraptured, to the essence of all things” marshmallow chimes blown on by a flamey wind we’re made of the same stuff you and I matches benzene drop zones you see this wound in my thigh a brief history of Vietfly I say screw the bag lady who called me prince and said I did nothing for my people what does a spider feel in moonlight? marriage riding its dark horse a child I tried to climb the black cast iron vine of my mother’s sewing machine to learn how to sing at the school of the silver wheel but thread-chatter got in the way bunch-talk the needle stabbed mama’s finger good we called it off pagoda of dirty dishes in the sink she threatens to kill me she’s upset I say the sea is a warning full and prompt the wave-shovels cannot pick up the dead duck fucking waves hats off to the dead duck how many reels exhaust the image history of the person it would be lovely to heal in a little muck called never mind

I came upon the gnawed torso of a seal, silver fur agleam against the sand like a coin thrown down in a losing bet. What left this bounty of meat on the beach to rot? I watched the neighbor’s small boys skirt the dead seal the way sandpipers tease themselves in the surf, dodging up and back along the body’s shore. “It’s dead,” I told their father as he ambled behind them up the beach. He called to the little boys, his voice borne toward them on the mild breeze. “Boys, come back,” he said, and they did not.

I went over the other day to pick up my daughter. her mother came out with workman’s overalls on. I gave her the child support money and she laid a sheaf of poems on me by one Manfred Anderson. I read them. he’s great, she said. does he send this shit out? I asked. oh no, she said, Manfred wouldn’t do that. why? well, I don’t know exactly. listen, I said, you know all the poets who don’t send their shit out. the magazines aren’t ready for them, she said, they’re too far advanced for publication. oh for christ’s sake, I said, do you really believe that? yes, yes, I really believe that, she answered. look, I said, you don’t even have the kid ready yet. she doesn’t have her shoes on. can’t you put her shoes on? your daughter is 8 years old, she said, she can put her own shoes on. listen, I said to my daughter, for christ’s sake will you put your shoes on? Manfred never screams, said her mother. OH HOLY JESUS CHRIST! I yelled you see, you see? she said, you haven’t changed. what time is it? I asked. 4:30. Manfred did submit some poems once, she said, but they sent them back and he was terribly upset. you’ve got your shoes on, I said to my daughter, let’s go. her mother walked to the door with us. have a nice day, she said. fuck off, I said. when she closed the door there was a sign pasted to the outside. it said: SMILE. I didn’t. we drove down Pico on the way in. I stopped outside the Red Ox. I’ll be right back, I told my daughter. I walked in, sat down, and ordered a scotch and water. over the bar there was a little guy popping in and out of a door holding a very red, curved penis in his hand. can’t can’t you make him stop? I asked the barkeep. can’t you shut that thing off? what’s the matter with you, buddy? he asked. I submit my poems to the magazines, I said. you submit your poems to the magazines? he asked. you are god damned right I do, I said. I finished my drink and got back to the car. I drove down Pico Boulevard. the remainder of the day was bound to be better.

I can’t swim because I can’t fit into the water I am two million feet tall but thank you for inviting me I am standing in line inside my giant shirt If someone wanted to weaponize me they would tell me to lie down on New York and the city I destroyed would hurt me back I eat stars It’s a riot I know my big mouth full of  their light

I care not for these ladies, That must be wooed and prayed: Give me kind Amaryllis, The wanton country maid. Nature art disdaineth, Her beauty is her own. Her when we court and kiss, She cries, “Forsooth, let go!” But when we come where comfort is, She never will say no. If I love Amaryllis, She gives me fruit and flowers: But if we love these ladies, We must give golden showers. Give them gold, that sell love, Give me the nut-brown lass, Who, when we court and kiss, She cries, “Forsooth, let go!” But when we come where comfort is, She never will say no. These ladies must have pillows, And beds by strangers wrought; Give me a bower of willows, Of moss and leaves unbought, And fresh Amaryllis, With milk and honey fed; Who, when we court and kiss, She cries, “Forsooth, let go!” But when we come where comfort is, She never will say no.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)