One Half LA: Part 1


Somewhere in this sinking there’s a map.
your sunscreen and rubber bands drown

the remaining monarchs. hardens and sheds,
scatters from windows, regroups in migraine

points. grow, whiten, sleep. overlap, increase,
threaten the highways. breaks open, weeping

blue sores swimming with reddened women.
always burning somewhere. too bright to do

anything but lay back and sigh. hotel windows,
poor mirrors, etch letters from a dream language

on the writing desk. hidden under his tan Spanish
carpet. all the flesh colors on his pillows. empty

or sleeping. overcome by their weekend sunburns.
shrivel and hold still. entitled to your own fountain.
covered with white birds, choked with ashes.
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Peeps who want their Vispo card, send me your address! Last chance: inktastesbitter (at) yahoo.com