6

READING IN THE BATHROOM JOURNAL

Here I have some books some catalogues
Some magazines quelques journaux.
But I am hungry
The African papers are all amazed
"Shocked so much,
They were impersonal, and no longer hated each other."
Never to be known,
Is that the good thing the Buddha
Seemed to mean by the scroll
I gave the Mott St Temple a dollar for?
I will read my day and burn it.
Awake and reading in the bathroom
And then writing in my sleep
The suckle of heartbeats
To my dismissed wax-tablets.
The free life reads me.
And then I take a phone call and find myself
Cold in the street
Reading a biography
Until I give up and seek a showerhead
Made of rubber, with stimulator crown
And a thin metal-plate fitted in.
Julie Christie sobs in the next room.
I kick the edge of the biography.
Sean and Brenda. I guzzle two beers
Echoey tu madre
The sky didn't let go itself.
I am so hungry, it's the coffee
And not this gunpowder I've been drinking
The cold my foot feels from the heat pipe
Is really cold not a burn.