Tuesday, February 25, 2025

Splinters of smashed armor
fumes of evaporating blood
from beyond oblivion

the rim of a cracked plate
glinting from an open door
knives hanging in rows
from the night's horizon

logs floating downstream
with the features of laughter
to the rings of a distorted place.

Monday, February 24, 2025

Solitude with cards of steel
pipes twisting the suckled headpiece
a beast driven out of the dark by winter
with a scrap of light torn on his face
giving passage to the bleeding of the air
flowing over orbs atremble and
the levitating slabs of distinguished sleep
unknown sisters and brothers of a lost root
cliffs winking with cherry couches
bones collecting on their cushions with jewels
all wrecked wings of a single body
stem raking an embroidery of scales
for a flower that failed.

Sunday, February 23, 2025

Red threads of light
through gray clouds flashing
sockets pouring snakes of stone
forked tongues of a giant eyelash
planets push volcanic lakes
docks running over fragmented miles
oceans of sand that glow like oily fur
and the wind wrapped in unseen wings
the plinths of exposed foundations
scraped bare by an emptied
annihilating mind
capped poison sending filaments
of frenzied gold
in ransacked water
bubbling hallucinated tools.

Saturday, February 22, 2025

Dusty arrows
lose their patina in bitter air,
flying over scented aisles.
As they land in green sod
they tremble til they're living bones,
their feathers become eagle wings
that unfurl dropping juniper berries.

A pressure washed porcelain demon
walks furrows of crushed bramble
across the bird song of ancient woods,
planets overlapping like discs of molasses
gashes deep in stone sleep
the trickle of inky pebbles
catching electric reflection
bronze heat of eager faces
awaiting the machinery of day.

Tuesday, February 18, 2025

The star within the star
pours its red milk of fire.
Shores recede from bathers
who are making love, their light
enters the water.
I see a whole ancient temple
at the bottom of my coffee cup.
It is not yet in ruins,
cornices shine like daggers,
altars in front of circular thrones
conjure faint electricity,
a blue fog wraps around
my crown of paper reborn as metal.

Soil is sweetened with feverish seed,
dripping from a dark valentine
skin jeweled by honeysuckle
and bronzed by a lunar beam.
The trees blown back rattle
like tinfoil and ripple like cream.

The map of happenings
is silent and distilled
inactive as an unobserved electron
all the roots in one fallen petal.

Sunday, February 16, 2025

I walk back and forth
in a house of ice
trembling at the blades
of electrode rays
that come through the floorboards
casting all my dreams
upon the wall
taking me to ships
that cross the caverns of the earth

the soul speaks in old books
lost in the rhythm
of a classic record
all the tombs are turned inside out
a voice flies up like a flag
above the colored waves of sand
above the sheets of metallic paint

the ghost of my bones is in
these harvested hills
nestled in their question mark green
around their wearying waters
what flourish do we bring
to the dance floor of all erased rails
black lights on a blood blue door.

Saturday, February 15, 2025

Curves of light breaking
on my body,
lifting me into the realm
of the remembered dead.

A sidewalk paved straight
through a celestial sky,
birds of sound without bodies
scattered from the throat of God.

To where the blade is speech,
and me in acid rain
the lonely remainder, bereft
of all companions in the glow
that our kind make of night.