(painted on a door in a Bushwick loft, sometime in the late 2000’s)

The Glass Boot

 I.   Amber footprints in the bottom of my belly
     Churn stories out of bubbles and foam
     Pockets and orbs; liquid air, vapor fluid.

II.  Three bottles and full-up,
     Froth brims above rim edges,
     ’shroom-head muffin-top ’fore
     Stepping heavy on my inner floor
     And pacing more like hopping more like splashing more
     Bitter broth thru the door-cracks and over-sized pores
     Of my body: of my corps, of my core.

III. And this container, this Glass Boot
     Forever fills
     Forever spills itself into
     Millions
     Of pellets and drops.
     Let’s pour together — form storms together —
     Into the same glass. Step firmly up to the line together,
     Millions.
     Let’s then stand together — drink together.
     Let’s pour and spill, stand and drink and fill.

IV. The same cup
     Passes from hand to hand and mouth to mouth. 
     Lips to lungs
     In to out to in,
     The same story. The same gulp,
     Both and all. Full, and void.

V.  Pause and listen
     For the fizzing of our collective soul-wings,
     Breaking for forever busying themselves with dice-rolling.
     Let’s stop losing chances and jab
     Blind-folded at asses with tales
     That bubble-up from the steps
     One, Two, Three-ing
     In the depths of my body: of my being,
    Just for being willing to pour and spill,
    Stand and drink and fill.