Anselm Berrigan recently gave me back a few poems I had given him in the mid 90's, most of which I no longer had a copy of. I was glad that they still existed in the world and grateful to see them again. Some I can't even remember writing. I only vaguely remember this one, written with Mikhal Koslosky in Ecuador, but the feeling comes back into sharp relief.

Sakahachi in Iburra

This town was interesting.
The Marco De Villa came by
and pounced on your shadow.

"Nine-three-six," he called
as he got smashed,
"are you practicing or
just making noise?"

What if I told him, "Oh yeah?
Wafers, carmellos, coffee
chocolate and coconuts,"
and then said, "man."

You would think I was joking.

Over-ridden by a shawl full of luggage
woven hay and beetles
as big as fifty sucre pieces.