--- P E T E R   J A Y   S H I P P Y

November, I open my mouth
to allow ash to enter.

	***

"To the best of my recollection,
the deceased's last words were--
'Recumbent! not recombinant.'

"Or maybe the other way round.

"I guess it matters, only now."

	***

We talked for a few hours
and I think for a few minutes
we understood each other.

	***

He withe witness-for-tje-derisory,
deaccessioned at THE LITTLE STATION
OF TOLSTOI, although this was not
recommended by the tourist directory.

It only took five minutes for him
to turn dead and indistinguishable.

you can go there and see, still,
his charcoal outline, the brick wall.

	***

Downcast, I head to the tanks
at Queequeg's Fish Market.
I put my temple to the glass
to feel the lobster's weep.

	***

On the first of August
I think of the last and the next
	first of August.

	***

The puppy days of May
made her difficult to forget.
Plausibly alive, I went out
for a stray along the Grand
Union Canal from Bethnal Green
and up through the Lea Valley,
remembering her whose various parts
once posed variants
on all my major chords.

I was like a romantic character.

To others considering
the same walk, the same way:
I assure you that her memory
proves a satisfactory companion.

	***

The city closed.
Night spread
into my windowpanes
like dark liquor
through branch water.
I am inside often
these days.
There are the ghosts
that go round

and then there is his.
The hardwood floor has
weakened with outer space.
Naked, I lay down
over the cold worlds
obliterating behind
other walls and other
windows
	made from
a breathless glass.

	***

That dog, now gone, that gnawed
now and then, on my leg--

what was he really after?

	***

Oh, beautiful one,
just so you know--
we have chained your mighty ghost
at the edge of the green
October sea.

We needed sleep, too.

Just so you know.

	***

Later, we left
your wake, a bit drunk,
very sad and oddly
horny, too, so, we
returned to your grave
and made love
on top of it, you,
on your mound.
The sobs we had held
fell from our arms.
When we left we suffered
two types of shivers.

Did we sin?

If yes, please
add your words
	for us.

	***

Late, late
	and I'm at
the sky again.

Even the stars with names
are frightening things.

	***

November, I open my mouth
to let your ash out.