three gorges:
once gorgeous mouths

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

flow of inspiration a memory

the mouth dammed
wet concrete

slathered over the lips

no poem today
or tomorrow

deaden d