Linuses (at Santa Cruz)

©1998 townee
You in one mind
using your own nose
to smell the pine
of green flower children in love
their open siren mouths
sing on gargling beaches with sea-tongues

Speak to rollercoasters of fear
regrets riding sunsets there
warm hell fires
where horned animals
burned guitars,
and unfinished works of art

My differing senses
puke for three blocks
a painting on a cliff-face
golden, waiting to happen
wacky sidewalk of unamusement park—
an inhuman machine scene

A kraken of possessions
then armless larve in cocoons
we’re uncurling for beer
butterflies that would later rise in a forest
things which did not let us sleep
as cars passed more ocean than waves at high-tide.

50th Anniversary

©1998 townee
because my mind
married you for the fourth time
before we even talked.

The most beautiful one
on the verge of Jewish womanhood
seriously idealistic, and
hotly hoping for more reforms.

Wandered nine thousand, one hundred,
twenty-five nights in a desert
over our closeness.

I was a fetishist
with each exploration of an ankle
or, the way a dress fits
all six scaled-miles of my biblical world.

Wore the pale blue of a liberal
comfortable cotton fabric shirt
wrote this poem, where at last we traveled
while you sat right as you were.

delicate neck

©1998 townee
knocked up
at my door
lips pregnant with drink
to receive me
just the vaguest memories
of your bitch’s kiss
and, that ass
in a red dress
these are enough to make any one come
to your
bones known ‘round as the wagon
wheel upon my arrival
I was led
to the bravest roof
the first night I met you
a shiny head
that rested on flat softened stomach
didn’t care the stars were liars
to spot your waist
as you bounced
brought down
sexless hips
from the woolen trampoline
like a swan lake scene
that had lost its constant chase
drowned in the skinniest of dips

how many men
are content to have slept
in your bed alone?!
[click to view introduction]