The Geranium Hotel Poems

I can't get over any sort of past So all I do is walk in the garden I no longer write any more words My shelves are already too heavy The city's paint is still wet And the urine is salty I assaulted the stars until the sun came up And I found myself covered in sand Brilliant ocean Your floor is covered in weeds I want to walk in your garden I write no more words Look at all those trees So large and happy to be in this heatwave I will give everything away The heat in my groin The lines on my palm The salt on my lips The light in my eyes I am the drifting club of haiku borders The motherless country of Japan I will walk through the garden I, like Rome, was once so loud Now there are no more words Just Bell-Flowers and forests Churches that mean nothing And walls that decay The past is the new horoscope And I listen for the plants as they try to break free

You look down and never look to the sky again The gutter holds more interest Than the stars ever will You can step on the cracks And let yourself fall Into the canyons, grandiose and pleasing to the eye Falling is like flying Only you know its going to hurt when you land  So you have to land on someone who has wings You become the angel's parasite They are forced to be your guardian angel But as soon as you get close enough to the ground You let go And you run Because conversation with an angel  Is like conversation with a beautiful person Very, very boring So you run, and you hide In, perhaps, a doorway Lighting a cigarette as you catch your breath And you look as the Angel circles the sky looking for you And you inhale the cigarette smoke As you flick the collar of your shirt up And you look at the door that you are leaning against Someone has carved 'Waken your weapon, Waken your steps' in the wood You think about th...