Chandelier.

Bedtime for Toys: something like a phenomenon.

Limbo

I see life gone down,

fan blades that beat

down, raven intruders

shooting out

their articles of abandonment.

I want

[*****]

to ravage me again

with his precision

lips, undecided

fingertips subject

to denial yet holding on

all the Nola while.

Is there a bus

I can ride

to the destination I’ll never reach

the lust I’ll fail to obliterate, the

hardness I step out of

as ghost collapsing armor

Louisiana falls

California calls, promising

such thin walls.

New York waits, potent uncertain,

while I stand behind

heavy red curtain.

Our Lord and Savior? Part I.

Ah.
Lower Garden District, Louisiana.

So swampy purty.
I wonder how -

That can't be right.

WHAT THE???

You loot, I shoot.