The head finally wad(dl)es through

As if written by

as i withhold my tongue
waiting for a sunny spell
to translate my loud pain
into a muted pearl

for Stanley Tookie Williams
December 29, 1953 - December 13, 2005
after the State of California
murdered him by lethal injection

Today I talked to trained professionals about my penis.

The last one said, “Oh David, it’s not the end of the world!”

resting quietly i expose myself in the grocery store isle to christians who make me uncomfortable and listen and hear nobody only the wind through the leaves in the evening i think of crab cakes the wood the pensive hill the rippling nipple the rude step

A police boat from Guadeloupe
passed starboard.
Slick cops
in ready-to-fuck wear
coughed up bits of dope
that rose in their wake
like blow-jobs.

it is probably too late for apologies –
but here goes.

Because
I ache to kiss him,
I look through him
As if he were a ghost
And deep-throat his polar opposite...