hardwired Name and picture from twetch — not on-chain. The signature is; the profile is not.

the shower

we like to shower afterwards
(I like the water hotter than she)
and her face is always soft and peaceful
and she'll wash me first
spread the soap over my balls
lift the balls
squeeze them,
then wash the cock:
"hey, this thing is still hard!"
then get all the hair down there, -
the belly, the back, the neck, the legs,
I grin grin grin,
and then I wash her . . .
first the cunt, I
stand behind her, my cock in the cheeks of her ass
I gently soap up the cunt hairs,
wash there with a soothing motion,
I linger perhaps longer than necessary,
then I get the backs of the legs, the ass,
the back, the neck, I turn her, kiss her,
soap up the breasts, get them and the belly, the neck,
the fronts of the legs, the ankles, the feet,
and then the cunt, once more, for luck. . .
another kiss, and she gets out first,
toweling, sometimes singing while I stay in
turn the water on hotter
feeling the good times of love's miracle
I then get out . . .
it is usually mid-afternoon and quiet,
and getting dressed we talk about what else
there might be to do,
but being together solves most of it
for as long as those things stay solved
in the history of women and
man, it's different for each
better and worse for each -
for me, it's splendid enough to remember
past the marching of armies
and the horses that walk the streets outside
past the memories of pain and defeat and unhappiness:
Linda, you brought it to me,
when you take it away
do it slowly and easily
make it as if I were dying in my sleep instead of in
my life, amen.

eulogy to a hell of a dame

some dogs who sleep at night

must dream of bones

and I remember your bones

in flesh

and best

in that dark green dress

and those high-heeled bright

black shoes,

you always cursed when you drank,

your hair coming down you

wanted to explode out of

what was holding you:

rotten memories of a

rotten

past, and

you finally got

out

by dying,

leaving me with the

rotten

present;

you've been dead

28 years

yet I remember you

better than any of

the rest;

you were the only one

who understood

the futility of the

arrangement of

life;

all the others were only

displeased with

trivial segments,

carped

nonsensically about

nonsense;

Jane, you were

killed by

knowing too much.

here's a drink

to your bones

that

this dog

still

dreams about.

the elephants of Vietnam

first they used to, he told me,

gun and bomb the elephants,

you could hear their screams over all the other sound;

but you flew high to bomb to the people,

you never saw it, just a little flash from way up

but with the elephants

you could watch it happen

and hear how they screamed;

I'd tell my buddies, listen, you guys,

stop that,

but they just laughed

as the elephants scattered

throwing up their trunks (if they weren't blown off)

opening their mouths

wide and

kicking their dumb clumsy legs

as blood ran out of big holes in their bellies.

then we'd fly back,

mission completed.

we'd get everything,

convoys, dumps, bridges, people, elephants and

all the rest.

he told me later, I

felt bad about the

elephants.

in the lobby

I saw him sitting in a lobby chair
in the Patrick Hotel
dreaming of flying fish
and he said "hello friend
you're looking good.
me, I'm not so well,
they've plucked out my hair
taken my bowels
and the color in my eyes
has gone back into the sea."

I sat down and listened
to him breathe
his last.

a bit later the clerk came over
with his green eyeshade on
and then the clerk saw what I knew
but neither of us knew
what the old man knew.

the clerk stood there
almost surprised,
taken,
wondering where the old man had gone.

he began to shake like an ape
who'd had a banana taken from his hand.

and then there was a crowd
and the crowd looked at the old man
as if he were a freak
as if there was something wrong with him.

I got up and walked out of the lobby
I went outside on the sidewalk
and I walked along with the rest of them
bellies, feet, hair, eyes
everything moving and going
getting ready to go back to the beginning
or light a cigar.

and then somebody stepped on
the back of my heel
and I was angry enough to swear.