So much for last night



         —after *J*


Blue light and piano—
a tickling brook of notes—
and the damn mosquito
that browbeat us all night.
Blue light from the window,

notes by David Benoit,
and our blood endowing
us with life—and that nit
now paused on the window
digesting as I go

to get Ceramics Now,
an old, bloodstained issue,
folded. Good morning. Pow.
Here’s a wad of tissue
stained with our blood that’s naught

but toilet food. I kiss you
in the day we’re into.

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