i know what Wu means.

 

 

What poem means is that you don't want your

babies to be concieved in dimly lit cold rooms or

in the backseat of cars with the engine running

from the AM refluent to stars. What poem means

is that days of impossible heartache are those days

spent in idle glory,

mending and hot.

 

If poem can mean a wyvern state of mind

of predominant dragon emotion,

then poem is a prevailing, winged attitude.

A predisposing hitchlike, like riding a Greyhound

thru Kentucky; like stopping for

cold sandwiches in Tennessee.

 

Poem means that days, good days

spent in the bosom of springtime is never

and shall never be, an overwhelming or

confusing mass on an Xray, and the matter of

fact words that follow the dire diagnosis.

 

That, poem is the heroin that allows comfort

when the retched head won't rest. The moonwalk

gliding backwards when all the time appearing to

be gliding forwards and the senescence that follows

your old age like a cat,

 

comfortable with you in the house.

If poem is that thing I did the last time with words

to sooth death, to gloss over the grisly details of a life

spent in imagination, to pretend to be epochal. To make

the open ended moments something possible and

accessibly pleasing in hight spirits. Miasma! Montane?

Mooncalf foolish/

 

If by poem I mean to convey some love. Some sensation.

Some distinguished, excitable light, then it was in fact true.

Everything cruel, enormous and unnatural was true.

Can't you already taste the salts four phases,

abstract and benevolent

below your beige breast?