eternal struggles with the permanent-
knowing where everyone lives on this street
there, and let's wonder what do these skies reflect back to the underworld
here, matchsticks hold up slum jukeboxes
where pocketbooks leak floods of found consciousness
there again, the tattered ask:
“where can we get tomato paste and Eb reeds,
a home for abused raccoons,
strange fruit swinging in the naked sunlight from some phenomenal transplanted tree ,
and a rare recording of Howlin' Wolf?”
forbidden walls once and forever:
1967