Wednesday, December 07, 2016

DREAMS OF KNOWING WHEN THE PEOPLE OF THE CIVILIZED EARTH WOULD BE GLAD TO KNOW A WORLD GONE MAD

Time of the beams, and the reported odd behavior of some animals
the trail of an anise-scented bag with simultaneous vertical motions
fish-shape flames swept repeatedly across painters and poets, writers and dancers,
architects of city and suburb nourishment
in which air power would affect a museum or art gallery anywhere

Tuesday, December 06, 2016

Long walks when the world was
changing, a ringed flag on the hills.
Bit cemeteries pulsing pool light.
Flapping strides that fell through it
like the dailies.  Ignored beauty
that became a spear of eyes.
Pummeling stalk figures with the aid
of the air.  Moving through the dead streets
with the fire of blood.  Diminished time
flaring its ass and nostrils to the
female wind.  Names burned off by
salt and sand in the heat of day.

Staggered harbors, purple cattle
roaming the wounds of the earth,
ships dangling fate of naked bodies in nets.
Fertile tremors of life from the earth
new energies in space
the overcoming thing
in the quells of the heart.

GOLDEN-MANTLED ROYAL BEAVER PARK OF CARNIVORES

The points are the beast squirting chlorine
this chameleon like motes behind a faded window
mountain-framed beans and bullets a slain buffalo's stomach juices
trail junkie who made a gust of wind ripple Your web

Monday, December 05, 2016

THE JOY OF HISTORY

A gentleman powdered his hair, braided it, and often doubled
running naked through the streets, bristling with rockets and machine guns

THE SCOURGING OF THE GRAND DESIGN

Blended into a single holocaust
its subsurface layer of chalk land slumps and ground fissures
seismological data are fed into the tree-encircled old house
kingdom from having kindled a fire with seething liquid
air trembles and rumbles the mountain knee-deep with ash
three small pools of water, one hot and tasteless
lake edifice like an elevator
the levee breach lava lake's plunge of epimagma
the walls of the water and drink sell her body
for their seasonal retreats
Long plains open to gloved hands
eyes in the river boil
for height and cloud
skinny dippers running on the shore path
soil draped and pounded solid on jagged rock
hasty body climbing the veins of a mountain
hasty car from heels & forepaws
botching up on a stone fence dripping sparks
ferns trembling in circles of heat
near the yellowjacket's nest
teepee is a soured bungalow
forts are twined to saplings
in a squirrel crowd
leaves are fluttering to reach
and latex cross and fold the earth

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Under bridge paths concrete
sabbath breeze curdling rafters
of cinnamon and salt falling
from grace's caution that the deer speaks
behind hedge growth walls
next to moss rivers
near mailboxes that're never checked
anymore
fogs and tags of a gone era
dissipated into blades
tracks and tan pock marks
green seen from lush
helicopters.
It was my 200th poem of the year
bells were ringing in the deep sky
hurdles of meat froze hard
near the aching water
duck feathers stuck like light
to the eyes of my eyes.

Towers roads to universe axis
sand pebbles and piles of rubble
lips fork to fork tongues
long path to the tent scum lit
where my water tank hides
the bone brush of teeth
and the gift of a fallen man.

Slates on a load of brick
glinting back at a golden moon.
Woofers aspeak through pipes
concrete where leather lounges
cones of melody ice
that tickle the foreplane's tongue.

Monday, November 28, 2016

Clotted rope on fence post land
winding round the worms that crawl it
glinting stones on metal floor of earth
mirror for the sky that finds
suds of otherworldly paint
lapping up on the early shore
The lord of hills is in my eyes
strength of hereafter bloom
levitating in the broken present.

Green infinity calling over a ragged space.
Hustled multitudes spinning chairs
over the strobed floor.

Long diamond sashes
hiding the cracks in the wall.
Scimitar clouds in the
viewpoint of pines,
lonely manchild on a branch
reaching.
The king will be fucked to death.
His perimeter will give way
to black sunshine.

Potatoes whacked apart
like meek logs
broadcasting his nostrils
to the worm farm.

Reeds with trigger hearts
pricking pillows of dull sky
fire of stars above the rented cities.

Culmination of sea's froth
on the sainted upper lip
of a garden walking.
Slipping through the sky in a suit of armor
flashing credentials at the galaxy's fire
hung dancers stomping past
long-handled leaves,
river washing nude
man and woman
together.
Hyperspace sunglasses blink on the dashboard
daylight groans on the septuagenarian
cigarette smoke curls around the dials of the radio.

Flapping skies fall off the planet like a tarp and fade.
Booming systems compromise the telefarm.
Strawberry places guarding illusions of water.

Fences stacked into a palace threaded with black hair
mirror windows bouncing beams
off the eyes that watch them.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Grown gods on the pavement light
pipe veins, knit hats
garbage bag carrier selves
whom I march in my personal repertoire
from chimney to stairwell in cut gloves
chasing authorities over the roofs gashing
long shiny eye horns on an imploded sofa
gazing past a skylight to their bleeding run
cushion wishing for nothing
crawling through the golden catalog I am
pushed into stardom by steam mop of janitor heat
ax buried halfway into the forehead, pale
and screaming in stolen languages
more beautifully than any other.

Monday, November 21, 2016

A WHITE PLAGUE OF STONES FROM THE ROCK SKY

Pumps and channels generate membrane like Stonehenge
earthwork on a knoll open bowl where the bear has just gone over
sunken halls tidal action and orange appear in the trees
a computer programmed  with the path that American tornadoes have
from wing tip to wing tip marked from head to toe with scars Today is my birthday
microscopic nematode worms do all the dirty work I think he's trying to be a tiger
the window becomes a space of both fog nozzles and economic fluids
technologizing the body as a mirror in a theatrical setting
Sweethearts of dill
perched on the tongue-tip
of an erupting syllable
charring rims of gold
with pink flame
nibbling with pen-tips
the edges submerged
of the sacred order
bicycling melted on corners
to break kissingly into orbit
packages boot in the early mail
sailing fire from a plunger's bulge
in the late days of the ocean
when froth fizzled to a touch
rounded shoulder to the womb
rebounding on a sad wheel
to be recycled as heat.
Yards of bled-on salt
crying out for new purpose,
vocals dying against stone.
Numerals of popped rice
flaring oiled light on
a sensitive mask.
Tunnels lit by corpses
of the sun's sisters.
Blown-out ceilings of chrome
writing cursive with heat.
Split yams offering wheat
to the boxed-in mouths.
Crane lifts stripping the lids
from honed orbs.
Body breaking open
into rainbow light.
Fevered acceptance gulps up
the panting warrior of garbage collection.
And a street slams all their brawn
ejaculating cycles under the earth skin
treehouses on unclimbed boughs
forecasting the mute governments of man.