a compelling devotion to what is.

a compelling devotion to the border.

the border, the border, the border.

i love the border.

i want the border to help me.

i want it to get me a job.

i want it to save my gay son.

i want it to protect me from myself.

mostly myself.

but the border, oh the border.

touch of evil, touch of cotton.

the feel of the border.

my mistakes are going across the border.

close the fucking border.

don't let my mistakes get back across.

hide me from myself.

i'm presently across the border.

hide me from myself.

the border is my savior, i shall not want.

the border is above me and below me.

my new book is about the border.

it's a damn good read.

the first chapter is about the border finding its birth parents.

the second chapter is the border's journey as a child coming from africa to new york.

the border lived in a tiny apartment and worked three jobs for many years.

cab driver was one.

night janitor.

newspaper deliveryman.

and now the border doesn't have to do much.

doesn't have to work much.

has a gorgeous apartment in central park west.

has a gorgeous big house, a fucking casa, in scottsdale.

the border loves life.

i am the border.

my book is an autobiography.

it's called, "my life as the border."

the book borders on satire.

the book is about taco bell.

head for the border.

the brain must remain the same 

finish an idea and move on

call your daddy

call a man who is naked on his porch, superior to the clothed man inside.

god knows how to eliminate his enemies but just keep in mind he created his fucking enemies.

that is essential

Keep your eyes on the prize. Keep dancing in the muddy swam of a stream of life, a tree of media, climbing to get free cable.

My sword is drawn, I'm a soldier and able to relax and the relaxation pushes a man to be the best he can be, fearless and deadly to his beloved enemies.

Rise rise rise.

He is livid. He is friendly. Check his references.

Writing or typing, any time of day. I'm interested in what your daddy has to say.

I'm gay.

Declare it like a nation's independence scattered onto itself.

Obviously, not possible.

Do I work?

No one knows.

I know a dream and

Spend time above ground

Loving the word "know."

Above ground I grind at

Documents and images

For when I go below ground

I'll have something to chew on.

    It's like:
   
      the moment
      they call it

   POETRY

that bums me
    out, bro,
    and I don't
    want any part of
    it.

Restless fucking heart.

Is there a lord to rest it in or

at least an equivalent?

Does anyone know?

There's only dry as fuck brush

to burn all summer, no moist trees

to let the season stick in.

PRAYER 1

  Limitless breath,

     reach into the lungs 

The lungs of God.

Did you lube the

    car wash?

You forgot to lube

the car wash.

Good deeds

left undone.

And now the

bearded man

(turned unbearded)

is going to be sad.

But of course no one could be

trusted to remember.

You remembered 

but you didn't

understand.

This is a moment
that needs recording.
A poem only just
kinda looks like a
poem is what makes
a poem is the
central fucking point.
But that's an aside.
Give voice to Sabice.
He hides. He has
no boundaries and
no purpose and
since no purpose no
boundaries.

For him it would
be enough for
there just to be
the clicking of
a typewriter. Does
that work for you?

But these are just asides.

Back to the moment.