I Am a Victim of Telephone

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.