Nowhere Near Nebraska

Crossing Ocean Street
in the early morning fog
we are solid figures within it
as the soul is swept away

flapping into the technicolor panorama
that only reflects the clouds
I thought were beads of colored glass
in The Cantos

tunneling out thru a jungle of grass skirts

La Playa Negra

confessing our sins
no different than the ripple breeze that
pre-empts the surf

I could use a boatload of money
but will settle for a brick of hashish―
why would anyone bother to notice?

where that music went

Anything Like Forever
for Iggy Pop, Mickey Dora, & Sweet Jane

The trapdoor in the tide

sub-Cretaceous

if it were there