When I lie down to sleep dream the Wishing Well it rings"Have you a new play for the broken down theater?"When I write in my notebook poem it rings"Buster Keaton is under the Brooklyn bridge on Frankfurt and Pearl..."When I unsheathe my skin extend my cock toward someone's thighs fat or thin, boy or
Tingaling-"Please get him out of jail... the police are crashing down"When I lift the soupspoon to my lips, the phone on the floor begins purring"Hello it's me-I'm in the park two broads from Iowa... nowhere to sleep last 'em in the mouth"When I muse at smoke crawling over the roof outside my street windowpurifying Eternity with my eye observation of gray vaporous columns in the skyring ring "Hello this is Esquire be a dear and finish your political commitment manifesto"When I listen to radio presidents roaring on the convention floorthe phone also chimes in "Rush up to Harlem with us and see the riots"Always the telephone linked to all the hearts of the world beating at oncecrying my husband's gone my boyfriend's busted forever my poetry was rejectedwon't you come over for money and please won't you write me a piece of
How are you dear can you come to Easthampton we're all here bathing in the ocean we're all so lonelyand I lie back on my palette contemplating $50 phone bill, broke, drowsy, anxious, my heart fearful of the fingers dialing, the deaths, the singing of telephone bellsringing at dawn ringing all afternoon ringing up midnight ringing now forever.
