for kevin opstedal

 splayed out at the foot of mt tam

 i mucked about in the mud of the minus tide.

 i spun about
 swirled and danced as if

 i was free

 as if

 i

 was 

 faery

i know things. type. letterpress. alchemy. witchcraft.

Some people say the world is coming to an end. That the vein burst and we are bleeding to death. I think we are. There is no triage for this. Stuff the leak with poems kevin

That what I say.   neruda    cummings    sze     plath   di prima    corso   ferlinghetti

rimbaud

             blake

whitman    kerouac    ginsberg     bukowski   snyder   patchen   mcclure

             yea that’ll stop it.