I HOPE YOU DIE

for SY and DF

some province and its travelers it must be
in the way the active ones here tonight
stand up high among us and then
stand up and sit down again—tevs
I may become bored but don’t dwell long
in the repeat time peg farming some more
roos on tv for his iron-clad reign
I spent the first 24 months of my life
singing plainly to a cold day in April
I now have the body of an eight
foot tall naked man driving piles
if he will not stop talking
here are some things you can do:
feel capable many times, and strongly
and then they die in there
and whose fault is that
need to move a couch across town
or put on yr lipstick with no hands?
both yes and no
then a long period of time where those
answers meld and you get real smooth
then more time where this poem
is an ode to my man-pain
if it doesn’t work now I’ll mangle it later
for I appeared in the original
tiger style or, like, boomy