Sunday, March 17, 2024

HYMN

Let the sun scratch my face
and let there be days of slumber
let me sleep on a long rag
at the threshold of the goddess
let the leaves fall on the fading scars
my feet leave on the earth
let waves lap like grain
at the air that gives them assistance
let there be decorative torpedoes
and suits to die in
with immaculate ease
let the machines make love
to melted bones
and the foam unicorn of alterable fate
be cast on the pool that pounds.

Let the deer continue their diadem walk
stars dying into space
limbs bracketed by blankets of fire
far past lunch and riveted
to infinite things
scraped bare for the life to come
ears rock n roll for the hand's potatoes
shale shading the moonstruck mountainside
with a masklike light.
Milk laden lands
frozen with ecstasy
neon posts uprooted in the rain
left flickering and crooked
in the paths of the inner flame
that drives the outskirts

embankments of moldy money
strewn with leather blankets
and scriptural underwear
the hosts of the prophetic gleam
bowel's music in ruined bookstalls
eroded landmark towers
in puddles of half melted coin
rescued by moss and bright
animated bones shining in salvaged paint

the crossing of rubbery staircases
under knots of tied up lightning
fissures that clench and ooze
with darkest honey
in the flanks of lost
and freshly fertile earth
the serpent of the skies
is a torn heart's mirth
and a soft train coming
with oceanic windows
and wheels of sexed medieval fire.

Saturday, March 16, 2024

Lyrics of rock strips
and reefs of coral sharp as steel
cavernous rib cages
howling with the worthiness
of tarnished pleasures
the rust on a harp
twanging in twilight
while the astral corridors
across open prairies
resound with strange sneezes
and relinquish ashen wings

bricks multiply from cloud
to stained cloud
walkways
for the ascendant damned
who move between
sealed plastic offices

plucking strands of time
from vain contours
to reveal the icy light
two sets of lips in flight.

Friday, March 15, 2024

Two headless wonders
walking truncated roads.

Do you have a magic eraser
that writes, do you wear foam
shoes that sing?

Do the wires that cross your sky
bring you dreams abundant?

We will walk past
the clamor of many spirits
on planets of dust.

We will rush out
from ravished temples
to dangle from
the longest branch.

Oh lost companion,
oh absurd sculptor of the night,
whole sidewalks of conversation
will follow you home.

Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Ledges blink
with dripping living light
roots climb intersecting walls
bulbs and wires dance
in tender breezes
the void outlines
of long gone dancers
lungs of disappearing speakers
sliding out of living air
to dwell suspended in dark matter
a freak of wounded color
lacking butterfly haste
the big bang palpitating
agitated in a glass case.

Sunday, March 10, 2024

Vines write on the walls
the caps and garments of prior lives
descending into glittering graves
emit sculpted steam
clench rot with heated rocks
blood painted flowers of charcoal
surface in placid eyes.

Ponds shimmer in concave plastic
pinks and blues in veils
of amphibian green
collecting channels of pulp,
short skirted books
through thinking water,
bright gloves for undiscovered bones
going limp on a dry threshold.

The rivulet between
moon shredded coral hills
resurrects lichen veins
and solitary gravestones
are gathered in a granite strain.

Saturday, March 09, 2024

PROMETHEUS UNBOUND

I will wait in the nuclear vault
I will swim in the lake of fire
like printed letters coming after me
I will wait like mica in the rock
and I will wait like lava
at the core of all these consequences
running like mice
dragging down clairvoyant doors
seductive shadows adorned with necklaces
sanctuaries of the damned
dripping with concrete wounds.

At the dam's lever
where the forces twinkle
like shattered glass
let the ships pour through space like ass.

Friday, March 08, 2024

Pathways of shredded leaves
leading to a circular indent
brown glowing in the green earth.

A temple of glass
rising from cut rock
near the watery center
crystal after crystal in cracked rows
wind screaming through frozen chimes.

Forms leak
from these wounds in the landscape,
limbs flex like the belly of the sun
and turn into stringed instruments.

Tables piled high with vines
in a forest clearing.
Lonely voices wafting
out of cracks in trees.

Lover's outlines
floating where there was
no bronzed encounter,
figures dancing
floors a camera never traced.