TRIP

voice on the radio
cat inthe window seal
that word, thinking about
mechanisms that bottle wine
years to rust, a water tower
nameless as a man
playing dominoes

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a light switch
which is which
on or off
dusk or dawn
after napping

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before extending road
like how, sitting coach
you wonder how a pilot
flame hip feels looks
at the imprint present, shadows
in the desert (eons in pockets)

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North Dakota?
the moving body, power line
pole, power line pole remember
the travel darkness?
like loving your mother as
her face becomes younger
through the glass
of a car....

leaving the spineless hill-body
to appear traveling/directional
as Great Plains here (were) like
the hospital birth-bed, and
this wanting sleep, a rainless
bow, holding, like a haybail--
primoridialmomentumtowards
the soporific thought
clap towards coffee/mountains

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past Minot, lived there,
with its one glass
building and its small
river ( a treeless creek
along the railway). It is in
a small valley a child's palm
or a pause between eager-talking
train-goers' words

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ducks in the creek
along the train, there is
a storm or a mountain
somewhere past revealed
limestone, a horse stands
against a white cloud on
a hill--the oil pump is
pumping oil. Black against
white--plain against mountain,
tie against shirt, spinning
sleep against starch white pillow
the eye of a sunflower---
tunnelvision on the train
cars like pages in this never
opened book. It's raining west
of here, there is a blue
water tower too, and a sky.
It's raining a wall or a
hymn on the border
I need sleep or conversation
an apple or a town.

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almost raining, there was a
wall of raining, color of concrete
or jeans, along the Missouri
river, a birth canal the bent
leather bible, see those names raise and begot
like prairie grass, and the rain shafts!

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luck is real
hold on to my thumb
touch my eye
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pictures of streets
through the glass
once a mountain
elegantly balanced
between what's measured,
streams.
wears haze like pantyhose
and glaciers like painted nails
around 3pm the sunlight glinted
off a woman's face
as I descended on the
road down the mountain
like a T.V signal
or visions into the waitress's hips
walking like a bighorn sheep
giving me a glass of
milk
shapes like cowlicks or road-going
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Malta, MT. Outside town
cows/black and haystacks/ yellow
hello lack of distance
(I've traveled)
and Montana is as infinite as
the will to sleep in the grass
we pass on the trains moving
like the word modern in the
ear of an architect
(and buildings are the pauses
the silence of dusty drifting)
sleep, sleep, wished for in
undreams and the inexhaustible
calyx of yellow sunflower fields
a color like mourning
the cemetery spaces
places for elemental brown corpses
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adumbration of noon's
tower, the brow of heaven in
the entering light. heaven
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seattle,
the salt water?
blackberries or clouds asunder
pacific ideas dropped from
some blue source, the
smallest low-pressure moon or
hanging mobile
a white cap, speaking on trains
running hands through essays
of hair, bodies through
bays move-breath
and need novels: trees-like-seagulls
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blackberry lip, dappling
stains like farms
in Washington mountains
we've eaten touched
sternums, meters of
poems, spitting
out seeds as we long
for others ripe heaviness
the sound of black
in Seattle
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A city a city
how seattled
it sounds, across on
Bainbridge island
the traffic the traffic
how wide is America
the young professional tapping fingers
on a diner table
the land the land
how west-cities
raise up for the heaviness
of the east its iron
its crops its skyscrapers
the scale the scale

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seagulls haze
weighs regal
against real
seattle, the depths
of sound
prattle the found

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buttes and fences
clouds and horizons
nothing is touching
not a blackbird in
unison
not a story about
trains
the wrinkles on a the man's
hand
all skirting frictionless
down the plain
like oil on the pan the
train the prehistoric tongue, the
plaid man w/ glasses around his neck
sauntering bitterly down the aisle
past the sleeping sleeping the past
sipping coffee hoping for
cigarette burning--a rock jutting
through the grass (limestone)
hope or hearing
of the inexhaustible silver train
a guardrail/ needle towards
the of death or the memories
of mountains/ bitten fingernails
and "foreign telephone wires"- Janet
I met her said this
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Janet also:

Shrooms
recorder
caves
Valhalla

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hills without rivers
dream and suspire (Sapphire?)
like the officious evergreen, an ear
against my ear, sliding shadow of cloud
dance in my lung bottom, foothill the...

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alphabets made for deserts
the tongue of the land
and the sage brush punctuating
mountains. intoning
the distances

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the droning design
a cloud shifts
mechanical across the iron
sky, a desert on wheels
a serpentine train
breath and the blue veins of
impossible mountains,
2 spines of 1 God, will precede

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the w of each thought
climbing mountains or leaving
love (the hands would clasp
two siccadas dreamlessly
dying)(and the warmth of
the palm's heartbeat warmer than crying)
revealed like curls to hands yellow to flower
or sigh to haiku-

desert/ mountain
voicelessly

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insatiable valley
mountains-hands
buffered by
seas of air-waves of lovelost
travels a hesitant pilgrim
an undulating stream
a mute prayer
a mouth
and its intangible lips
.........to hear God's knuckles
.........to see God's chin
emptiness and discovery
to feel the book exhale
to taste the lilac's shadow
placed along the water
a dream once
lover floating above lover
leaf above leaf
trembling unreachables