The moon is a little dustball
caught in the charcoal cough
of the night what functioning heart
can truly withstand the minor key
I am fundamental in my alone-
ness but not alone in my fun-
damentalism I am fundamentally
addicted to the minor key- I smile
frequently I am fundamentally
repulsed by ‘n enamored with the idea
of my death let it be said that I am young
let it be said that I once ran
38 miles let it be sad when I finish
lest it be said that I lived unalive
& didn’t appreciate the erection
of my youth
There lies man with yarmulka tilted
only half off head horizontal
on a park bench (no park for meters)
And the car nearby still hot and odd-
smelling (would it be fundamentally
unoriginal of me to compare that car
to sex that man to death) goddamn
minor key let’s see you slather original
over the background of such gorgeous
sorrow humming
& the fluffmoon
just above?
–
[i wrote this poem on my iPhone]
The Leftern Wall 