Rebirth

out of the shower where i rejoiced
the bath of the cleansing
of the whole day coming
through the holes in this handed-down
decrepit crown
which is my prayer and respect
like those to the grass i smoke
i make it my own and proud–
but then all washed away
my own gone on the dirt
of the day down the drain
to the sewer and locked
in a room not locked
door closed and hand and pen
fuck
maybe they won’t talk again
for sometime
like this the nostalgia
will grow like each day
on every living or dead skin
on fat flesh muscle on bone
bound by the veins of your heart
of your brain
until you summon it
–for after all the days fallen back to yourself again–
you summon her and she comes
and you deal with her
fold her up into the hide-a-bed
naked with your best friend
so your mother
if she visits
will feel at home
on the puffed-up cushions
things will grow fuzzy
the nostalgia gone like the sun
my hair grows long again
it takes time to dry
but i am newly awakened
by the water of my shower
so a new day when resurfaced
after submerged in a new moaning baptism
kicks and bubbles and the current of dying
My grandfather looks for Atlantis
in the vaginal oceans of naked crystal sucking
bodies of the ’70′s
on the deck of this rebirth-long vessel

1993