Two Poems
Sonnet XVIII, XXX, XL, XLI
On the green boy goes
You are all loving a ghost
Lying down syntactical as apples recalled
Answering: “Deteriorating,” you said.
One red finger dips the white
Drip of love; white arrow, this
Hungry dead doctor, dream of love;
Jealousy alone can tend ten blue men
To send plum moans. Not me.
I like to beat people up.
Keats was a baiter of bears.
Paranoid: and of Martin Cochran, dead.
Occupation: Richard Brautigan, or the God of the Martians,
why am I always
Richard Brautigan
in this opera?
your integrity keeps
getting in the way
of a fine impression
of me &
anyway, what you
call authentic does
not preclude that
I sleep with her
you’re just as happy
as me when you fall
asleep and no
firm and falling
green haiku is
going to save that
