Whenever you call me friend
I fall down on my knees and cry
because I know it’s the only thing
never to happen before in this
life is something you can’t see
it’s a pillow under a hook shot
I want to tell you something anything
but you are there and I am here
we are trapped inside ourselves
and the distance is too far
you are something that I would tell
would be nothing before too long
you are not the finisher of dreams
you are the beginning of nightmares
or waking but I’m not sure which
this letter is for you in the future
it will lead you on the path
of goodness or of rightness or of
wrong people and right meanings
or the meaning will be hidden
or wrestling the demon I will have become
restless under the starlight
it’s too bright here to think
the negatives would be pitch black
darkness of a silver mine
there are no trees here
where have you been where are you now
I am no longer here or there
you are anywhere or are you
up in the clouds is a ghost
he is white and blue like a cloud
he paints with his teeth
he paints the rainbow before midnight
that you can see from your window
staring out under the sunlight
through the gauze curtains
over the high mountain far away
that is covered over with snow
past the rivers and forests
that lie awake under Orion
hunting the bull that runs forever
just out of his reach
pointing the way for the two of us
to join together in song or dance
or that other thing and sing
the Grinch down off Mount Crumpet
his heart breaking his chest
thumping with the beat
his little dog too running running
with the bull full of laughter and blood
he can’t see it anymore because it’s become him
we are trapped he says we are
trapped in ourselves it turns out
that all along it wasn’t you or me
but he and her or her and him or
he and he or she and she or they
even they tell us that nothing has happened
even they know that it’s a big joke
one more thing to know before the death
we are crying like crocodiles
before their loved ones’ coffins
we are bellowing with grief like buffalo
on a berth of wild oxen
we are wailing our clothes are in rags
we want we want we want
but never can we get
what is it
we don’t know what it is
but it’s something it’s anything
it’s too many people or not enough
it’s too few trees we need more
beavers to build riverdams we need
grapes too or plums from the ice box
or an ice box even would be nice
all I have is this cube isn’t that right
or is a sphere a cube a donut a coffee
cup your hands in mine yes that’s right
now bring the water to your face
clear and cool and
full of something
what is it wanting
or yearning
I can see in your eyes they’re clear now
they are as clear as a running stream
or the sky that’s clear right
or the water that is in the Bahamas
because I hear that’s clear
you’re as clear as the sound of a bell
you’re as clear as the braying of horses
you’re as clear as the glass in God’s eye
and I
I’m as dull as an ox plowing
through fields in his yoke
I’m as dull as clouded amber
I’m dull as you find me
tonight after dinner
I’m reading the crossword
you’re sitting beside me
you’re watching TV.