poem || donna kuhn

hotels of dog time

the tv was 11 and i was a landlord beating the night
my pants sound like u are on the phone talking to a
client

i reach for your muffinator; i eat my art and i limit conversations
u stared and disappeared, u want words and money
i am having little bowie windowpanes, hard pockets

warmer apprehension, u sleep with hippie/hipsters
it pretty much makes u a mystic muse parenting chemicals
in a song, be happy and sleep in california

breakfast was an angry lover and u don't
go away in the can't station when we're
at breakfast with hate

i try to be criminally inclined and service pudding
fingernails, my impressed q event is crying
echoes of new york; he doesn't do basement work

in hotels of dog time, u want words, words are red
i was on the roadside and i was 11 and i disappeared
while i spoke to my art and greenish tiny toilets

i was 11 and i was sleeping on sails; my face and my
money and i controlled 464 apartments; i was 11 and
i had a song

i was 11 and i slept in the phone and i talked to my face
u want words, words and queries, echoes of dog time
the tv was 11 and i was a thin friend

i will be poor in seconds but i control 464 apartments