Water Closet

A hopeless addict remembers the pain, and looks for a way out.....

Sprawling syrup...
a squall of warm sound...
Saxophone sending
penumbras of atavistic
jelly-eyes
to my sutured
memory.
Dark cast-iron
furnaces
hiding in
homeless basements,
licking their industrial-
lips,
rupture their carcenogenic
whore wombs,
fingering an
eternal fix....
What I need
now is-
a quiet Chapel...
far from the
menagerie...
the slippery streets,
Motels of
cindery flesh,
whittled junky teeth,
and zippers of
restitution...
in subway-
water-closets....