I wrote this just as the title explains. I like it.


On An L.A. Day Alone

I’m scared of burning silence
Thumbprints dissolved on a mirror
Through the spiral I look, me, still an ego scattered
In concrete those cracks, up through come slim green fingers-
Reach , Can’t hold but grit and oil, anything but this-
To stare till tears eventually blur the vision of rude Saints
Marching along the corroded L.A. river where cut off blue jeans
Wear themselves for pennies and nickels worth
More than their sideways faces, I’m practicing silence

Over the houses a freeway tumbles drowsy, a language
In constant moaning, forced laughter, a double speak
Trickles from north to south to east to west
The moon that hovers like a helicopter is a dragonfly shimmering
But also, so unlike a man, in here I red stamp a recognition
On your left wrist in the soft web of blue veins, come, come in-
Digits click pock marked progress as bright points in the sky
I like the smog filtering so the distance is always beautiful
Despite itself and its rugged buildings
and its bloody signage and its fifty foot women
I scour the draught packets of dust I can clip
to break open and sprinkle on apples sliced clean
Mine is distended artifice
And cars trapped in movement ever wavering through bent light

However

With it you egg drop boiled and spent
The lower intestines shrivel and flake off in wide ribbons
There is ugliness too, me, as you, can always see
We are growing awkward in thin cracks and widening in silence
Despite yourself and I too will always flower there