There is a statue of

Abraham Lincoln at

East Orange City Hall.

He is in a trench coat

holding his hat

by his knee.

The Mental Health

Association building

looks like a disease,

the perfect place

to off yourself.

on a bus in transit strangers catch me better in moments of concern.  I don’t care if my stomach puffs out. I am whole and I control compulsion a river slick with oil like Saran wrap

crumpled up between NY + NJ who is this stranger on the bus? oily bird knows no better home + I’m growing old. what will outlast me?

the Universe may be

a lineage of stars

sown, tilled and plucked

in a never-ending

harvest of Godstuff*.

 

*Where God=Love=Universe=Human Consciousness, or something like that.

1.  Ask Mother how she feels, wonder.  Know, call upon her sound.  Believe without intention.

2.  Be a mother to a self who cannot love.  If he tells a story, listen to his voice.  Transcribe it into song.  Sing it.  Watch him dance.