Poem for Purim
















I am spitting up fir planets of spinning crystal
perfumed with weightless cherry boughs of peacock feather tips
that write my Christian name over and over again on your breasts

You are now falling into a black river that carries the image of
the city in it backwards and upside down while lemon scented mists
veil the phonenumber Daisy the Chiropractor spelled out to you
on the collective beaks of cardnials and bluejays flying together down stream

I am now waking up and remembering the rainbow balloons the clown
gave me outside the tent in the filthy grass soaked with the rain after I skinned my knee chasing my cousin with the Strawberry cotton candy she paid for with the Sacajawea coin
she found in the robin's nest under the miserable fern tree behind the Cathedral

You are now brushing your teeth and touching the freezing bathroom tiles from scratch and going on with your day

I am looking for you in the mall in front of Sox Appeal

You are now sleeping

I am now sad

You are not thinking of that

I can't think or write right now good

You laugh

I now forget th one g bir f y

You ar go ng omo ow o t k a ou m on o ce

I n h s h 3 k f

d m W s m .


d q J v



a h

?








k







.