Poem: “Blue City Drip”

Where to go to find a fix, a face, a fountain, and fate?
Where to go be early and late
In the same experience which cowards berate?
How to relate?
(You’ve accepted your fate.)
Where to go to find a sink, a savior, and sexual madness?
Where to go to chase after sadness, to hone a skill,
To kill, to reanimate, then torture at will?
Where to go to find grime on a wall, shit in a stall,
Who to call? There’s no one to call.
Where to go to be minus a spirit,
With AIDS in the gutter where no one goes near it?
Where to find freedom and fear it?
Where to go to select among needles,
To assassinate Beatles, to hear moaning and groaning
And stoning and violin tweedles?
To hear the sound of disowning,
To find human cloning and all things humane?
Where to go to find a stain, a train, a plane, and a chain?
Where to go to be crazy and sane
In the same experience beneath which you strain?
Where to go to find sperm in a drawer?
Where to go to see blood on a door?
Where to go to see three people fucking,
And two more sucking, begging for more?
Where to go to get bruises, abrasions, and complications?
Where to go to get fucked in the ass, spanked for your sass,
And raped in the grass?
Where to go to find a heart, some head, bread, and pain?
Where to go to feel sunshine and rain
In the same experience—in a pipe, in a drain?
Where to go to feel worse than before, to crawl on a floor,
To murder a whore?
Where to go to find sin and diseases,
Squirming and squeezes and tattoos on Jesus?
Where to go to be both rich and poor?
To cover a sore? Where itching increases?
Where to go to worship shame, to slander a name,
To appropriate blame, and pick up a dame?
Where to go to see God in the flame?
To be able and lame in the same experience,
For which you’ll gain fame?
(She laughed when you came.)
Where to go to abort a fetus,
Where lawmakers lie and anchormen cheat us,
Where alleyways defeat us?
Where to go to be “sippin’ at bells?”
Where to find memory that’s stronger than cells?
Where to skirt between two parallels?
Where to find a fork, a knife, a spoon, a contagion?
Where to go where birthing and aging
Are the same experience of enemies engaging
In wars that no one should ever be waging?
Where to find some skin for peeling?
Where to go to find a virus for stealing, a shotgun shell?
Where to go to join heaven with hell?
Who to tell? There’s no one to tell.
Where to go to find pills in the dark?
Where to go to find a spark, a fire, an ache, and a thrust?
Where to go to learn new shades of rust?
Where to go to be king for a day, to violate trust?
To give feelings away?
Where you’re too vulnerable to stand up say,
“That’s not okay, but do it if you must?”
Where to go shed celibacy?
Where to go to achieve pregnancy?
Where to go to find debauchery?
To be enslaved to machinery?
Where to go to find crack, crumbs, cackles, and cake?
Where to go to be honest and fake
In the same experience—asleep or awake?
Where to know what no one should know?
Where to go to know where to go?
(She said she would show.)
Who to owe? There’s no one you owe.
Where to go to find ether and cream?
Where money is God and sex is a dream?
Where to find a stable, a wagon, a hammer, and beer?
Where to go to be false and sincere
In the same experience—with courage, with fear?
Where to disappear?
Where to go where the sky can be scraped?
Where the ground can be taped,
And land can be scaped?
Where to go to find Birdland’s remains,
A hole in the ground with no blood in the veins?
Where women strut forth with—count them!—three brains!
Where to go to experience remorse?
Where to go to have sex with a horse?
Where angels and demons are par for the course?
Where death is the source,
Where life is the end, and love is divorce?
(She doesn’t like intercourse.)
Where to go to find a shovel, a hovel, a mansion, a tower?
Where to experience pleasure and power?
Where spiders don’t bite, and snakes don’t devour?
Where “forever” only lasts for about an hour?
Where a mushroom and flower
Are the same experience—one bitter, one sour?
Where to find a toilet for dinner?
Where to buy erasable paint thinner?
Where God is sinner and Satan’s a saint?
Where to go to lodge a complaint?
Where words like “oughta” and “dunno” and “ain’t”
Are covered up with conspiracy paint?
(She pretended to faint.)
Where to go find hipsters not hip?
Where to go to board a ship, to pay a debt?
To recall and forget in the same experience
With a rock that won’t skip?
Where bathrooms are broken, and dancers won’t strip?
Where you kiss with your foot and kick with your lip?
(She picks up her whip.)
Where to go to watch the Blue City Drip?
Where to go to watch the Blue City Drip?
Where to go to look under a tarp
And find things decaying and strings for a harp?
“In your mind,” she said. “It’s all in your mind!”
Such lies as these with boundaries defined
By lesser mortals that no God designed,
Taunt me with questions and answers declined.
And now I’m forced to repay her in kind.
With a tree branch, whittled and sharp.

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