I Want the Morning

I want the morning.
The morning.
The female poets.
I need to write. I have to write.
I do not feel right.
I went to the den to watch porn,
To not listen to my thoughts,
But I heard Buddy and saw Buddy and pet Buddy,
So I left the mileage of dirty animals,
The broken joints of my body.
Satisfaction and jobless,
Certain DVDs
And the super-rich.

Shameful edification-
Elusive education-
her brain is an important mode of computation.
At the University of Texas, the waxy halls
Are trashless; bashless girls wear hair and dresses,
Thousands of hearts tacked to painted walls.

A crew cut on the foreman of a construction site
On West Campus in Austin, Texas,
A liquored-up tongue could not taste
Anything more dissatisfying.
Liquor, Janean, Jana, Ramos.
Shaving. Shaved ice. Shaved curriculum.

Shedding. Shedded tear. Shedded faculty.
More sports. Dulldrum. Thudding bass.
The Sun, the buildings. How does he have a girlfriend?
What does a female want from me?
What does my life want from me?
A detachable day. A wandering insignia.

Settle eddies, walking carver, dust mountain.
Face, wet, pajamas.
Dole lubricant, erotic erosion.
Persimmon. Her careless career.
Walk into a new time zone, grovel in your bowels.
Sickening heart rate of suicide tmblurs.
Grumble through perfect bodies.
Sex bends lowest light.
Taverns, baritones, ceramic sympathy.

I have to signal dense relief,
some emotional road maps are hard to read.