Taught to an Astrologer

Some say don't

write of lips, love, wheels turning in the sky.

Some say don't

speak of flowers, crosses, towers,

winds or valleys.

Don't draw red apples, smiling trees or flaming

evil.

Here’s to noodles being their noodley selves. scale soft noodle.

Like the mouse insides of a black snake insides of a wall.

Don't write of lips pressing lips,

tears pooling ripples.

Here’s to the sand in the crack of your ass

at the seashore, with your censored sunset-

painted in the grease of a greasy pizza box, all soaked greasy pleasant.

Scorned if to write of chakras, dead friends, celibacy or cracks in the earth.

“Like the sand in an hour glass”

Like the weight you gain on TV.