three gorges:
once gorgeous mouths
open
sails travelers floods silt
slow words flowed muddy
prospering with phosphoring organisms
patti still pours mapplethorpe's
ashes through her fingers
two losses: you and the song
all that I feared comes to pass
ashes and bone bits sink
into stagnant water
I thought he had to be alive
to do that slow fuck
muses do
turns out
you can fuck yourself
use energy from the past
for awhile
how long depends
on your obstinacy
/loyalty
flow of inspiration a memory
the mouth dammed
wet concrete
slathered over the lips
no poem today
or tomorrow
control
safety
deaden d
.
