Debasement

Oh the sweet art of debasement:
to breathe the very same air
cockroaches inhale
& to sleep w/ their
decadence debris
under roaring
refrigerator's
heaven...

to lie under Eiffel Tower
& any Parisian sidewalk I'll find
effective
to radiate
with Madame Bleu
and her boys of reddening twilights:
the pursuer of noir city magic...

to throw my guts into the coin-box
spiting out verses at random
faceless landscapes throwing moons and
sunrays
and everyrays
between
for her harvest moon pleasure
where words are but ornaments
for
penetrating spirits

to crystallize the draperies of nite
saxes
wailing dead dramatists hoaxes
post meridien...

or to hear once again
the marked young man's confessions
send-up

sending you up and sending me down
shade-toxic bluntness:
must learn the fine art of debasement
to become
angels
not meat&bone&gut bags
or madmen dancing w/ fireworks
straw-men
with eyes wild on
panic buttons...

to find an escape
from escaping...