II. Castle without King
after the leaving I shaved my head
my words squared off
I shaved my head
in dialogue
I
found
the pure joy of plumbers
V. Hotel of Lost Light
When hair covers the face like a tent of images.
When tires are broadcast in treble.
O, brother we are lost in a room with buckled flexi glass.
Our wet fingerprints refuse to dry.
The mind
is a magnet
& we cannot take leave
of our senses.
There’s too much blood
under the bridge &
the pigeons refuse to carry messages.
Never Mind the Beasts 
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