up with the morning sun

it gets easier and easier every time.
didn't you know that
the heart
has a memory?
it gets
so tired


baby's on fire

. . . . . yeah LIKE A FOX PHOENIX!!!!




state change

billy cassidy


we roped pots & pans to our calves galloped

east then west mock trials we are guilty in

honesty we fall down crunked on some-

thing speedy & unpronounceable he’s jamican

not african i think of you constantly i stutter

in buffoonery boyhood forebear superintendent thighs

she knows my ticklish why I tote in I’s

panic attack during the matinee

we soak our officialdom in honey mustard

pigroll belly-up in it cheers to backwash

i pet the dog & the dog barks twice

my hands attach to arms that’s what they tell me

the lesbians blare big band across the street

peddle walkie talkies framed stamps of elvis

elvis slept w/ 1000 ladies before Pricilla. died.

i use street signs as monkey bars

undergarments tophats

i am merely putting on my pants

the contractor plows driveways

lifts shed with metal claw


cuticles pushed down the roof meat pens

i am in a corner

in the cornerstore


saying hello


lung cancer did he smoke?

& i can still remember ripping my big toe on the

diving board town county swimming pools splash

we inhaled so much tar & feather up to knees in

prissy warm water your riddles, dixieland hasn’t

gated down yet outgrown farfetched have you far-

fetched your past? i’m not supposed to ask to be paid

for this but i’m rumbling & fed up of water crackers

somebody on the subway stuck up a joke this morning

i kept quiet & read about death death death death bas-

ketball a 9 letter word for hollywood & tanning beds


She licks the linoleum where I was standing

I don’t want love I want understanding &

Marriage welts in the water I’ve been chugged

& sunglasses now I have pimples soot instead

of sneakers the last time I saw a palm tree

was lsd’d & pink haired & inquired with a

polish woman rent a car for the wedding

festivities bring drunks! ribbons of a blast

the cake tasted like sofa the rich tan I feel

like an american! I have my opinions &

I do squat about it thanks for the pork chops

however, I gave that up I met a pig oh

yeah, the gloves the place you saw the film

about teenagers acting like teenagers on pills

the thinking someone threw something it was

a leaf leaving a tree fuck you surrealism I am

abstract & I lost my peep friends (brick sob)

(cracky goof smile) naptime in neptune I wear

my hats 8 at a time hair is pony greened rust

Don’t suck those mints! They have urine!

you are a spectral socialist and you have books books books books

i go to the reading and i eat snacks whereupon my appletree

i don’t mind i have paper work

the motor boat is jealous of the sail it’s like a model and a fat cousin

shower curtain is brown nerves are brown & my

My What A Day! Floodwatch & Sun. I saw Dustin Hoffman on the street

& another person who looked like my Uncle Thom ! How’s Angelina?

too bad families don’t understand poems nothing to understand

it’s like cutting lettuce into small clumps & then throwing it away

or difference between TV & TELEVISION the way everything

is photographed in photos tie dyed catwalks psychedelic, man

The time is 98 inches wide I’m dead

I’m back


I never believed in God but I did believe in the rabbit

really thinking carrots make you more genuine a lady

she is doing 5 minutes ago

maybe not thinking of me

I forgot your soft

heads in chest

I forget the fighting

jabbing duking

I remember Austin Texas

with all its coffee goodwill chinos no furniture

flies in vents parking garage deck lone star beer

I know how to touch a body grow a beard billiards

I can see 20 20 the icans & thronged boys

this whole thing is sad sad sad

sad sad sad

sad sad

i put my fingernails together splice hairs off a mole

murder moles with juicy fruit & hockey sticks i

played 9 innings a kid all myself with parks wall

i won & win & loss champion the kids now coming

out of jr high in ridgewood are rude gum chewers

bad beat listens fatty fats annoying great & young

before you get sick of me & this let’s go to the river!

stay up till 5am & drink not talk or look stare at the

grain do you have a car? isreali salad my pupils

are foible i’m shying away today buoy to that

lets pass out in your car

feet to head

wake up & fool

i never met you, billy, but i wish i'd had. or perhaps i don't wish that, because then this sad news would have been harder to hear. sometimes your poetry could see through reality like it was a glass of water left incidentally on a table. i hope you find peace where you ramble on.

read more of billy's poetry here.

y uno ultimo

El Futuro

Y sé muy bien que no estarás.
No estarás en la calle,
en el murmullo que brota de noche
de los postes de alumbrado, ni en el gesto
de elegir el menú,ni en la sonrisa que alivia
los completos de los subtes,
ni en los libros prestados
ni en el hasta mañana.

No estarás en mis sueños,
en el destino original
de mis palabras,
ni en una cifra telefónica estarás
o en el color de un par de guantes o una blusa.
Me enojaré amor mío,sin que sea por ti,
y compraré bombones pero no para ti,
me pararé en la esquina
a la que no vendrás,
y diré las palabras que se dicen
y comeré las cosas que se comen
y soñaré las cosas que se sueñan
y sé muy bien que no estarás,
ni aquí adentro, la cárcel
donde aún te retengo,
ni allí fuera, este río de calles y de puentes.
No estarás para nada,no serás ni recuerdo,
y cuando piense en ti
pensaré un pensamiento que oscuramente trata de acordarse de ti.

the future

And i know full well that you won't be there.
you won't be in the street,
in the hum that bubbles the night
from the streetlamps, nor in the gesture
of selecting from the menu, nor in the smile
that lightens packed subway cars,
nor in the borrowed books, nor in the til-tomorrows.

You won't be in my dreams,
in my words' first destinations
nor will you be in a telephone number,
or in the color of a pair of gloves or a blouse.

I won't get angry, my love, because of you,
and i'll buy bonbons but not for you.
I'll stop at the corner you'll never come to,
and i'll say the words that are to be said,
and eat the things that are to be eaten,
and dream the dreams that are to be dreamnt,
and i know full well you won't be there,
nor here inside, in the prison where i still hold you,
nor there outside, in this river of streets and bridges.
You won't be there at all, you won't even be a memory,
and when i think of you, i'll think a thought
that obscurely tries to remember you.

(transl. mine)

--Julio Cortázar, de Salvo el Crepúsculo (1984)

Despues de las Fiestas

Y cuando todo el mundo se iba
y nos quedábamos los dos
entre vasos vacíos y ceniceros sucios,

qué hermoso era saber que estabas
ahí como un remanso,
sola conmigo al borde de la noche,
y que durabas, eras más que el tiempo,

eras la que no se iba
porque una misma almohada
y una misma tibieza
iba a llamarnos otra vez
a despertar al nuevo día,
juntos, riendo, despeinados.

after the party

And when everyone had gone,
and just the 2 of us were left
amid the empty glasses and dirty ashtrays

how beautiful it was to know that you were
there like an oasis,
alone with me at the edge of night,
and you were everlasting, you were more than time,

you were the one that didn't leave,
because one pillow,
one shared warmth,
would call us again
to wake to a new day,
together, laughing, disheveled.

(transl. mine)

--Julio Cortázar, de Salvo el Crepúsculo (1984)

these poems have beautiful mouth-feel in spanish, read them like that even if you don't speak, read them aloud.

Una Carta de Amor

Todo lo que de vos quisiera
es tan poco en el fondo
porque en el fondo es todo,

como un perro que pasa, una colina,
esas cosas de nada, cotidianas,
espiga y cabellera y dos terrones,
el olor de tu cuerpo,
lo que decís de cualquier cosa,
conmigo o contra mía,

todo eso es tan poco,
yo lo quiero de vos porque te quiero.

Que mires más allá de mí,
que me ames con violenta prescindencia
del mañana, que el grito
de tu entrega se estrelle
en la cara de un jefe de oficina,

y que el placer que juntos inventamos
sea otro signo de la libertad.

love letter

everything that i'd want from you
is finally so little

because finally it's everything.

like a dog going by, or a hill,
those nothing things, ordinary,
ear of wheat and long hair and 2 lumps of sugar,

the smell of your body,
anything you say about anything,

with or against me,
all of that is so little,
and i want it from you because i love you.

May you look beyond me,
may you love me with violent disregard
for tomorrow, may the cry
from your coming explode in
the face of a boss in some office

and let the pleasure we invent together
be another sign of freedom.

(transl. mine)

-Julio Cortázar, de Salvo el Crepúsculo (1984)