INFESTATION
Just another conflagration; for
investigation of the infestation.
Nothing is more certain than that,
for we are haunted by our pasts.
I sit around all day, reading books
and counting rhymes; leaving scratches
and numbered all carelessly about.
-
I see behind me ten million histories.
From the old Mississippi to the St.
Louis Arch; to the serving window
at Franchini's on Fisherman's Wharf.
I died in the window once, with
Michael McClure.
-
Now there's nothing buy dominos in
that window where Ferlinghetti used
to be. Some Spanish punk rages by
his noisy, tiny car - small Japanese
crap with megaphone pipes and no
gas in the ass. All noise and 4-speed
shit. We specialize no in miracles,
oh Maria Magdalena.
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