“on patti smith”


warrior with your words,

you
sought

freedom,

release, release.


freedom, it calls to you

it calls to you.

and i, too, seek confessional.


jesus never died for my sins
either, patti.

but in the name of the spirit and the soul

the holy holy soul,
i say warrior and i say vanguard,


crusader.


rock and roll is for the people,

rock and roll is for the power,



and your poetry is for god.
she

herself, may muse to you tantric
rhapsode.


you invent prayer for

wholeness of existence - tragedy of birth - guttural virtuoso


each word white hot
crackling on the tongue
that licks your clit
and clicks in your mouth

your belief in rimbaud,

in robert,

in love for sonic,
in your dreams,

in your climax,

in rite,

both you and i:

soulful, release.


punk

is one of many words
that it could be
but i call it beauty in jarring sensation
of your creation.

human, your order.



discovery of the unfamiliar.
human, the new words for



ancient needs.

human, “don’t fuck with the past


but fuck plenty with the future.”

human, seeking nerves under
your skin.

your guitar and your howls become
your instruments of battle

tools to carve the groove
i groove to. live on.
feed on. patti.