Red Light Mist

       Thumb spa
       in the mtns.
       2:30 in the morn
       We stick to sunsets
          with resinous no
          reasonous no
          treasonous no
          reasonable thoughts
       Impossible impossible
                gibberish
       By the window w/  blankets
       & Jackson Pollock’s reddest paint;
       His stitches of lust my scab,

          Part of everything I want, a
       Desk & pool & sirius
       satellite radio.
       Sleep good shepherds
          wise men
       This is not Cologne
       This is not Miami
       This is J. P.
       skywriting
       This is me on the mend