Conquesting The Kitchen

When did my lost love make her last meal?
In what arid kitchen did she roast her last hen?
Was it turquoise-tiled like a home in Navarra?
Did she throw back some sherry as the flavors
married?
The roasting of her hen is exquisite.
Young men of Brooklyn
have you tasted the salt on its skin?

Oblivion has erased us.
Time simply wallowed.
Oblivion in the alcohol we drink each night we’re
apart.
She has a forehead I breathed many mornings.
Young men of Brooklyn
have you tasted the salt of her hen?

The security of money.
The conquests of capitalism.
Or was it called love in the muscles of our bodies?
Young men of Brooklyn
find her blue eyes with the flaking subway walls
behind them,
discover the salt of her hen
in the middle of her kitchen’s daylight.

When did my lost love make her last meal?
Young men of Brooklyn
find the spices of her kitchen,
let her tongue teach you these carnal anthems.

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Ascorbic Acid Or My Everyday Sun

I snort ascorbic acid because of you
Because of you
it’s my everyday sun

This languid depression
These languid incantations
These humble blood transfusions
could not replace the hateful words
you said
to disassemble me

This lost generation
The one that’s begotten
The one between purpose and money
The one by the park earlier today
forgot the sun up there
so
I go down to chat with the homeless
man
John Two Axes
who played an Indian in
Dances With Wolves
Because I have forgotten the sun

and need something else in my blood