easing into
                    my imagination
crumbling cities not foretold

we simply can't give up.
          shortcut to daybreak.
          she walks alone

          across the unencumbered vista
          hastily
                    and without fear

and back down the stairs she comes

too much activity at 3:15am

down the stairs
          up the stairs
                    down the stairs

          the bathroom   the kitchen

drama at 3:15am

Tuesday, early morning.

my clocks drift off without me into
permanence;

meanwhile, I buy a lawnmower.   the cat
seems less scared of it than the vacuum
cleaner. grass resists, mother nature seems

to be fighting back. the weeds wrap around my
ankles the thick grass tries to choke off
the mower. maybe she is revenging herself

although she is more powerful, has other
ways, does she not?
she sends legions of blades
          into mine—
what's this
                    in the corner of the yard?

          a raspberry bush and a sunflower
struggle to hold back the weeds.
          they fight
                    and i realize
not all of nature is one.
          even she fights herself.

I live in the hood.
I would rather live in the Cape,
which surrounds the body of humanity
but the hood covers the head,
and the Yorubans say
you must never lose yours.

I cannot fall back to sleep
listening to so much slam poetry
has caused me to lose my voice.
I am laryngitic.
          Voice must be found
                    and I have no Lassie.

My hands still smell of cut grass.
My body sore from the awkward
reading position earlier. Even
a pair of nuproxin tablets doesn't
help much. The pillows
seem to hard to sleep on.

A vision of myself driving
through southern Denver
          last summer
                    pillaging used book stores
I stopped at a Safeway
   in a seedy neighborhood
and tore out the yellow page
   containing the list of used
      bookstores
Sadly, i thought, it looked new
and hardly looked at.
   I did not think anyone there
      would miss it.

where was I this time last summer?
one year ago and nine hours ahead
          no, eight hours ahead, in London
my third day with Julea-
          she let me stay in her flat
          while she stayed with her fairly
          new boyfriend, Steve—
they've been together well over a
          year now—
it would be almost noon.
didn't keep a travelogue of
the day's events
maybe I went to see the Tower or
tried to sell those books
that mysteriously came in handy
all these years later.
Still can't believe
   books I bought back east
      in a small shopping mall
         at a small Antiquarian Fair
            for 15 dollars
               got me 200 pounds.

testament
          to my skill   at used bookstores.