<><><><><>

Trees re-formed and positioned for me
the docks in a tract of silence held flat on the water
kitten stare from a high slab moon
duck moan in a low harbor and the river eating
slender the cares that drape by mending
            sky's scape of murder to earth
 the rent of cerulean core
      pitch-dark fruit of ages
                      proliferating through walls
                  that fall to become their boulder-twins
                      a ditch of raspberry eyes
                pleading backwards from a path of sharper stones

<><><><><>

Riding through the aftermath
                of billions of lives
      with salt legs
            trailing everything nothing;
      spiny plant-precipice, touched & torched
               by lingering fires,
      made breath by vastness:
            how hard to carry without
      this gargoyle face, sternness
           these limbs of pepper

<><><><><>

Animal of light
tearer of sounds from the air
resound without a body
liquidate the assets of celestial crime
respond like lice to me and release my flow
into the atmospheres of death
hidden behind potted flowers on the retired avenue
the jokes of congress smitten on the air
ravages of love's abandonment
to rivulet through refrigerated land
and ozone the vulvic agitation
of time, and its anti-cancer

<><><><><>

Fearful for the purple in your skin,
    the blood that wants to get out.
   It is good for people to be honest
    with one another.  To see the way enfolded.
      You are rose pepper
        and fructose flyer, searching
         my kitchen for rations,
        marauding with silks in the bed room,
          reminding me why I was alone for so long
        and why I will never want to be alone again.


Bring me powerfully to the threshold of self
   to torch barriers and watch them hold without spite,
    impregnating us both with
          cheese waffles, rice cakes,
              and vinegar salad,
  while in the country of minutes from now
I kiss your well-trimmed flaps,
      tryingly, like someone asking
                a servant to save his life.

<><><><><>

Dandelion orb, idiocy pure
             of no perspective,
                  life-giving, rain
                      on us less,
  we can't stand it: too much
      that asks too little
         we bask wrinkling
            our brows while
              the sun wrinkles our hours
     trundling our cares
         half into sleep,
            celestially bawling
      yardless and erotically imperative
        dreamed terror of the
            error we're born to
              like a kiss
                   deflected

<><><><><>

I without a name, the centuries
    pass over me with no effect,
 the zero sum of dignity,
      emerging through the shared web of layers
  illusion kaleidoscraped
brightly lit by failure
  with no act that requires law
orbited nightlessly
  we injure things toward their true lives
     and give them infinite perspective

<><><><><>

The mission is expressed
      by a fallen bridge.
    Cables that come to the arms
           will lift and lift.
       Orbs will move away with me,
           set rails will smelt and
              imprint themselves into the earth,
          follicles never suspected
              trickle through the scalps of all
                   and give light to the aftermath.

<><><><><>

Grandson with a gun
    pummeled the fake sky chamber
       had medicine in the town butterfly planetarium
     asking nothing to flower, asking all
       to flake and ash willfully, to fall down
        simmering coils of live vegetable
  building the spaceship of the dead
   the largest melted industry, teeming
            horizon-widening hacksaw eye scythe
       soothing the masochist's duck waddle
      the path of the humble anti-electrons
 those who stamenly affect no one
         steeple the pimpled hills with corrupt cathedrals
    add genitals in gilt-edged symphonic
         sheets, scrolled in gigantic piano wire
      the forefather of sorrow
 binding up his room in a wraparound keyboard
   exiting by window after window
    heater speared and counter-speared on the winter
the laundromat a halo of soda candy and porno
  porch chairs ciggy butts and raw diapers
                              goodwill clothes and half-rotted sneakers
                                                            lapsed currency clotted in the pop of the heels
                                                         undying fury of intellect, brow's cloud inter-oriented
                                                                                                     to yellow roses and the punch
                                                                                                                of the yellow moon.

<><><><><>

I'm like a fucking child
  who can't sleep or grow.
 I beg whores to bring me sugar.
   Everything I do is practiced idiocy.
 I can't eat my lemons sour.
   More than play, I work at death,
      sorely and tirelessly, being
         begged from within
                             to fall down.

<><><><><>

There are measures that can be taken to ward off death.
None of them match the unidentifiable birds
pecking at their own shit on the windowsill,
the white paint of yesterday.


Who did I ever need to tell me their names?
And why are we trapped in space with only
our murderous science, our categories
that only kill?


Who can tell me, who can tell me?
No one has told me.
This chair alone is an empire of sadness,
of stricken lives.


This thatch of fibers, whole highways
of microscopic beings,
hurls its numbed weight under me
every time I become too tired to stand.

<><><><><>

Life on the wing of a vast sadness
she keeps pricking herself and will not stop
and her problem rests perfectly
on the foundation of our world
where I wait at the bottom in a bed
built on fallen rafters and newspaper
toothbrushing my little death in a pail
tucking in my meat browser
and she comes in a shawl of mexico burnt orange
wrapping her english grammar around the top of my spine
she inhabits with a gun the ring of flowers
she inhabits the excited reality of snakes foils and whales
reviving my bent skeleton with licensed nipples
turning my head to the dictionary of frankness
filing my paperwork in the vault-speak of human flesh
cooling an ember with two mouths
closed to the dawning

<><><><><>

A hammer that sickens the firm of the earth
trunks burst from the holes in the island
filling stories with occupied space;
 what lingers is butterflying dwindled,
  winged eyes on a barnacled mast, both worlds dying

<><><><><>

Tablecloth large as a garden,
 we spread out on pomegranate loaves
                          and honeydew cucumber rinds,
  fucking sternly, while the imaginary
     clay walls mirage off
           near the pine roots' sunshine
              taking silver for death up high
      to be played and repeated

<><><><><>

Morphing into a wall with an open slit
 charmed with error, erecting a birch
 from the body-swept bed a deer rising,
    shrinking with daylight,
      waiting for the mind-taxes
           to kick in, that plow an angle
            into one's belly,
        so that one can contain whole
           the ballet of frivolous misery
              snail-history of a kiss
                                 left to burn
         printed on the third rail
                   like a brand crucifix

<><><><><>

He's recording a scrap album in his basement
 with jerkoff fumes.
He's a fanatic with a wide-eyed vegetable.
 Forced into a view of the ceiling, he'll walk there.
  Put into a computer chip, he will fuck.
   Killed by automatons, he will
    put on new flesh and walk around wildly,
                                                        proving his own freedom.
 Later, on lakeside frozen patio atmospheres,
    he will talk with others
              about his adventures,
                blowing bubbles,
      molesting the air
                          with his face.

<><><><><>

Zapped eyes, thin teeth,
  macro-waved entity, lugubriously
       farting, cry your own name,
 beat on the cemetery tablets,
       cry your whole family name,
      fart soundly for them as well.

<><><><><>

Flung oil spattering the mini deck
with a reflection of coming planets
elated eyes finally reeling in towers of meat forest
labeled vixens trampoline on the reeking fringe
channels calling in their robes of noise
from the underground, from the colorful regions
faces spread open like recent wounds
speaking windows in mid-space
in mid-nowhere
and fucking in mid-nowhere

<><><><><>

Shiver academy bronze melted eyes
shank night snuck under your ribs
sleepover academy solemn roof lights
security shining on blanket tar
die


Summer is a rolling hill steamed to the town-top
behind the vast edifice winter intelligentsia
you can hear that hissing


Dive into the dives around the academy's outskirts
discover nothing twice and ask for a fourth partner
ream the one leaf of the sky
ream the bittersweetened hereafter

.....

Ferned yard outskirts
    cottonweed hands of archer grandma
  the table sets itself between a thousand gardens
     dandelion tea on a raw table
         dancefloor up on a mudheap
      tilting like a graduation hat
         til the bones tumble to canyons unseen
       in the dark lawn parting

<><><><><>

One's very blood--and the coming lack of it
        stricken with nothingness
                          oozing dark matter
                    handled by a fever of movement
          to the town-fountain broken by universal lava
 melted currency paving the mouth
           disorder of beamed intelligence
               parting the flower bed
                 the transference to mist

<><><><><>

Brother of rubber wheels is gone to the wild low country
   for ten slugs on the bones of Jesus:
     one slug on the skeletal vortex
          to hold the world in place
        for the bones to stay breezeless
           unrevealed and wanting: the rest
          for show of life, to ooze
              in movement on what is dead


 Brother of rubber wheels is gone
            quite raw in the head
                from all the defunct centuries
              piling on top of each other,
                to little effect: love and evolvement
            have left him out, to bankrupt
                his insides: and the meek hills
              and the shearing mountains
                  rise up in anger to cry
               the same song to the same interior


  His lionesque head
                                of healing ozone

<><><><><>

The only solution is to build
      a one-person concentration camp for yourself
         and really concentrate there


    Until you can't stand it
       and you can stand everything else


   Barriers of light and barriers
     of dark I have struck you down
       and I want to be in my body


     Flinging the money curtain aside I
       flaunt blood to nobody looking
        get pulled alongside by an illegal beauty


      Dances of floors that pop and stretch
        into memory-corners while you keep dervishing
         linked flights of bridge rollercoaster


      Over history's shit

<><><><><>

   Barriers of light and barriers
     of dark I have struck you down
       and I want to be in my body
     Flinging the money curtain aside I
       flaunt blood to nobody looking
        get pulled alongside by an illegal beauty
      Dances of floors that pop and stretch
        into memory-corners while you keep dervishing and not looking
         linked flights of bridge rollercoaster
      Over history's shit

<><><><><>

 Fossils clash, in the air
           where their ropes have broken
        slamming dead jaws together
            while their enemy coasts past
         on coats of ivory and wheels
        traffic of goon kisses
          smitten maps of battery on the body
 foundling murdered by ash, by light
 by darkness too, and rings of organic matter
   flinging their mercurial gardens
 jagged circlets of an atom genie
     through the fucked and living universe
       pulsating with error

<><><><><>

Ash on the tent, where we've arranged
        a memory to become fundamental,
   blown and fading, as the fire crawls
          all that is reaching, frond eye
       disintegrating up, up to the curve
             of planetary atmosphere,
                   to be kissed by a rain of light-year's silt,
                       in the drone of orbit

<><><><><>

Four prints on the body
          distinguish it from time.
In the rafters a sluggish network
         regenerates, wings distinguish themselves
                                                          with sound,
 and then world-frenzy,
      micro-ceiling hell where toes wiggle
    eight prints on the body
       make its electron double dance.

<><><><><>

Fulcrum of volcanic mews
   to be remembered, to have no lasting value
      to be the death of an instrument
                            a cord missing


Eruption of sanctuary
      in the valved, imaginary heights
  split hills, negotiated overpasses
        wetting and melting transparency of all


    air-craters and hollow-pockets
      crucifix windowpanes
          and the red faces pressed against
            now flowing out of my body

<><><><><>

The shield holds back smoke as the continents fade out of my footsteps
an end to counting days on fingers
black river risen to the sky dawning
bridges twang town to town city to city
ports and airways are open
but we keep missing each other
like android children


Fossil imprints appear in the undergrowth
eyes of millions in a lightyear tube
thinner than a coffee straw
humming this, this is the earth
and thinking themselves blinded by action


Silverworn, forced
a talisman blue highway
to the dusk heart of

<><><><><>

Forms of primitive love
         in the last unviewable boudoir,
 dynamite rabbit ears candling
          on the high motel's ancient TV,
   stacks of prophets
  on the coffee table, no organic light,
                  an unswallowed protest
                    hovering in the air like a law,
                  vent opens twilight through the numbered door
                  like a cop's lightstick,
tongues blight a series of searing pipe organs
                                   thistles high in the tumult's hair of destroyed melody,
                                                                  the holocaust of popular illusions complete
                                       in the baby doors of the skull, numbed authority petulant
                                                                                                     leopard-print rims
                                                                                         on the orbs of the far-seeing
                                                                                            schoolmarm machine gun,
                                                                                          unfettered barrenfoot flower,
                                         an erring wave of perfecting fire,
                                          fringe cutting inner space
                                      chronosucculent tar and feather
                                          the idol of the fallen
                                              multiplying in armchairs

<><><><><>

Adversarial to the depths of beyond
languishing in forced perfection,
                           senses polished by nuclear missiles
the speaker on the holographic box
has an intestinal tract emerging
                         from his left eye.
 His brains have been stamped in twice,
                from his own speech:
     we are his millennium
         fakes of the gas-pump
             hands on hands on hands
        stunned with the rigors of totality
      psychic bloodbath like an outdoor chessgame
      shaped like flowers by
       the observances of passerby,
           acoustic nickel

<><><><><>

Unlonely, at the level of a grave of the dead
  shining with sight, viewing
  tendrils impossible to grasp land-wide,
       tongues cross-purposed
       machinery of desireless love
                sky's curve turning


        they hammer their fists into a world-wide riverbank,
       bored of the many beautiful people
         audibly lamenting their own virtue
     knuckles' print like a genital map in the mud of the earth

<><><><><>

Rugby unit eleven hundred and thirty four
arrives on your astroturf doorstep.
Your presence, the sheer small heft of you.
Your dolled-up likeness everywhere.
I see you sneak into line-ups
and bring out a rebellion of nurses.
I see your revolutionaries
cloth-banging in a televised alleyway.
Rugby unit eleven hundred and thirty four
has a thing for you, a thing
to outperform death's moment,
balloon's lasso around his ears
high above the human current, smiling

.....

    An island in broken bottle basement
 and plenty of filth to get beautiful with
luster of fools, empty perfumes
tracking a voice along the hallways of the dead
calling universe-tent, the joke of light,
                                      to come down

.....

Bashing green sentiments
 lacework of hard vines
 a mold for the out-of-control
  sky full of helicopter trash
   dancefloors beautified by the doubly conscious,
                                           doggedly partying
          slapped flank blushing near the mirror
          the singer is swallowing a wall
         I was locked up in language
          and by diagrams and degrees
            squandered

.....

Inside the burning supermarket of memory
    all that is worth losing is still going on
   I can see your hard beauty
       and the soft beauty that it no longer talks back to  
      smiling desperately

.....

No longer destroyer, usurper uncontrolled
    an impish dragon, hedging toward dawn
       with alarmed eyes, up a warping hill
          to where reflection is ahistorical liquid
         stirring a fantasy government from the loins of fate
          developing a pinnacle of imaginary leadership
          while the gulls and rabbits and owls do not swoon
         in the frozenness of our spectacle.

.....

World lain back in the cut
     watching the nothingness sprawl
          across the wonderful threshold


My neighborhood is turning to dust
         together our faceted eyes move
              to the burning, imaginary door
          where once we left our masks to turn liquid,


          Immense

.....

  The fire that brought us into
        this life together is disintegrating,
      yet we remain connected--how?


The furnace in our limbs
      and of our cages singing
         has left its fury elsewhere.

.....

Alone in the forgotten language
walking the streets to crystal mirage bed
all doors closed to commerce
walking the streets of the high library
walking with the strides of death's unharmed
in imagination: screens flicker with parades
of the dying, masked
          winged conceptions, a landmark breaking up
          the cornerstone split into salt

.....

Now we are roped off against one another,
                          the empty air can begin to think.
  Out loud: all the settlements shall throw their millennia of repressions
                                                                           at once, with great effort!
     There shall be a new age of forced wonder.
        Gunpoint will sizzle in the re-focused eyes.
             Timeless earthfare on the bedsheets
          a warrior alive with helplessness at last.

.....

The force of life sprung
hammers the unequipped,
hammers them the most,
as if something comical were happening,
trickles into their white-tipped red nerves
and finds a home there


light-sanded, superior to its own
infinity and lack of suffering
my solitude is an eruption of echoes
friends blown off by death respectability and politics
I fashioned a weapon from my discontents
the catalogue of a well-predicted existence

.....

From the bivouac  sacked
   flip the cash-bag      wine stomach
       disturbed map        blinking
           white canyons fogged in
               past the blade of each shoulder,


     the prison-escapers  with birdhouse heads
       urging: onward the tugged bridge,
              interlocking rust,
         weirdly angled fables
                            that find canvas
       at the edge of a chopped-off city


 vapor lighting its catches
         love making in the net of echoes
                     where town after town bubbles
                       up from the crust of pustule earth


 The stellar nipple expanding
   old fond maple
     criminal in an ink dress
       slither down my name

.....

Symbiotic days of Martian freedom
     never to boomerang
          smitten blood-dark by three
            and then four forms of consciousness,


    rebounded only from birth
           and the garaged head,
       the carefully kept
           ways of being
                  about to shatter.


 My distant brother, cousin of
      the plague that strew me--pride
           flush out my emptiness,
              if you dare--I'm
                powerfully half-here,
            on the fading line we stagger.

.....

Synthetic days of infinitely heightening noon;
   blue stores by a red cube,
        the blood of a wise man:
    and after fifteen choruses in his chest
     rose weeping, again:
          "they've killed my jailer"

.....

Deep in the breadlot
shadows were screaming persons
concrete broke out like air
against their narrowed struggle
and the mad birds sang for all
strumming and striking, on which they
                         stand at an angle,
  moon-locked, politically gigantic,
                   stable as a jet blood jello

.....

His own frame, its parts shaped like disks
their ancient taboos, dead to be mummified


Liver, windpipe, spleen, bladder and womb
a clerk for a dry-goods merchant

.....

    So that they might suffer
from each other's wounds
                            more fully,
            sympathy was taken
                  from the sympathetic
                       and given to the unsympathetic,
      those with deepest wounds
             were allowed to walk free,
                  damaging everybody,
       the action movie shared
                             like corn syrup.

A SILKWORM WORLD OF MAN-MADE PHOTOGRAPHIC RUBBER

            White noise frequencies connected to the hands of the inner pair
 characteristically soft and gelatinous equally spaced iron rods are all lumped
               in a chronology or time scale against which the products of the human workman
                 are optically reduced refrigerators directed past a strong magnet
                   building walls, and even nuclear guesses
                        they possess no true roots, are inserted blue-green, red, or brown
                                                                                                            dried    of culture medium
                                                                                                light waves of all
                                   and on cooling they will all lose their come color
             and be able to run within me so that time would pass to our lips
                         legalizer and leveler; it stands still or flames scarlet by the organism, he exists

.....

I collect chunks of coal,
 no longer hot, from
   the tracks, from
           the river pools.
 I put them in an office
     of ash furniture.
 I let molten blossoms
  begin liquidly in the
                    thick walls.


       A torch in a distant engine
     is beginning
        to come to life,
      and decisions are made
          by things in blood
 unsteady that run and run
             toss gravity to super entropic wolves,
               standing timelessly on time,
               with a force-field of hatchets.

.....

The team of bone
of distant persons
of telepathy in evening wear


marketing, rest, worship
natural rubber from the territories
pathways are similar in the cells of all


a fabric that newfangled field of plastic could move;
a nonexplosive version of the oval faith kept rigid and glasslike
the crystal framework pressed into service


the man-made giant molecule of spandex dangling in the air

.....

     Oranges rotted purple in the white pantry
         a coil in the spine notwithstanding
   machinery of days rubbing against
 other days
salts nostalgia with error
       to open this character of ice
     fling the teacups into the comet
       blindly connecting
    and flash the canyon
         slopes decorated with broken productions
       a coil in the spine is just a worm spiral

.....

             I'm in a basement full of
                 old computers, video tapes,
                     Jean D'Arc dolls, unkept records,
                         juiceless plastic, tools for the dead.


               I'm like a vampire nursing on my own blood.
                Dual electrodes don't threaten me
                       from the opposite wall.
                  My energies were led
                       and led me here.


                    Operating from the always-hot  core valve,
                  the most tarnished, most often used
                    channel of the spirit,
                   a faint technology somewhat
                    like a porch light
                   universal in shape
                                 keeps me.

.....

Prolapsed star system
        puked tableau of winking lights
      golf areas stalked by a lengthening whisper
            ice spilled everywhere
          from a cooler the poles knocked over


                  flags afire on a leaning ship
           nudging an abandoned harbor
                       stalk eyes and hidden eyes
                              and no eyes below

METHODS OF DRUG PARTHENOGENESIS CHAKRAS MUSS THEM UP IN THE HYGIENIC NEW WORLD

Female slaves hawking shoes in the airless, dusty valley
tap the spoons of sexual love
fever draws into its body some of the skin of a person
the rebel artisan spins in a pocket
winged creatures the orbital paths carry them away to their sky city


Dark green, lacy leaves are finely divided wirewalkers
the bearded, boisterous king conquest:
the throne level caged or lobed by vast antigravity
the chrysanthemum blossom with great feathery wings
beating him with a strap or a cane she flies to water days
expandable clays are a dead portion of reef


An antidote came at war's end, a poet
woven of grass, hair, and string black spells and storms with the output
edges scalloped  charted and built
predictions of war tissues of sea
faintly stirred by its future marvels
a bell each time he fed tiny grains of silver
the shark palace of extra pale bars
backbones that have hair and milk
their mustaches trimmed and their chins a thicket of glory


Men spread toward a polluted sky hanging from the tips
by shutting off the water to win the blessing of the goddess whose sphere he was leaving
demoniac force of such strength the symbol of all that drives
newlyweds with fruits rocks and dead coral
when a body falls toward the earth his televisor uses huge magnets to bring
to the surface the sister teams, the animal trainers all petted, spoiled, and flattered
plastic film is coated with gelatin machines, power lawnmowers, and bicycles
bath towels, bath blankets, eyeglass frames, piano
to treat the madonna/whore white-sewing your lips in husky ardor


Unit of a brick        ambiance or love      the mouth is simpler
mantle cavity clutch and the fluid clutch
the celestial sphere is behind the blade of a boat
acetate separates as half, the pear-shaped symmetry of


Nucleic from the pupa, ready

.....

White owls in the jailhouse
 purgatories that history has written
              into our spines, whole shells
                  of blood-flecked literature,
        and the stark hurt sun on high glass,
   trickling with orange: the flame jet's
        third eye, filled with pus
                               semi-forever

.....

Underwater rivers of sand curves of a woman eating crow:  after an argument
                                       a coy male had grown into a tall tree
                                                       beach master of a harem
                             the female blocks     the female allows him to leave
                                    a caterpillar eats and grows
                                          we eat eggs
                                              vicious piercings of the animal's chest armor
                                                                                       adapted to the buoyancy

.....

Brainwashed by beauty,
gift faltering with praise,
I erred in the fertile lands,
where there are places to step.


To deepen the valley with movement,
to give seeds away to the dawn.
To escape from freedom
into the play of echoes.


Cessation is valuable unsought
fear of light is upholstered high
on the lavished tenements.
Raspberries nonexistent stagger
the peripheral forms,
the smell of universal movement,
the religion of death.

.....

I remember the onion-darkened sunlight
A torn map carving paths for the dead
Our circuitry shelved in a blue heron
Serving the sky's arc every day
Rubber tar underfoot in a maze
Where a section of graffiti coils and opens
Thriving in black dust
Through the messages of childblood
As the abattoir sings celebration of its victims
We are benches in an empty greenhouse
Out in a gravel clearing with a drum
Taking from the core's fabric
This litany of managed expansion
From a sprung zero

.....

Vined porches linked by concrete and fever bodies
       lashing for false control as the thick sky replenishes


            apartments shake with barren music
              doorways give off a scent of plaster and black tea
                    siloes sing from the sides of a canal
       their aluminum bottomless
             aurora of closed eyes

.....

History in a red powder weighed the flask


  rubber, fluorspar--the mysterious rays kept the curves of script in an ad


    birds are stunned and their throats then cut controlled
       wire floors crank again and again

.....

 Spine bowed against the curve of the earth,
  burned down to laughter by love-crime,
   eyes in the roots, mouth of sky rivershore
      climbed by fishmen to borrow
        all flashing and thriving with anger
           in the mammal's roam, convenience
             stored up in death, to make
A shrieking marauder rear up in
      the back of a cop car, brandishing
           teeth of blacksmith nails
               in the rearview
   Mirror to strike silence with
         until the penalties fall to pieces,
           until all filmed and titled wailing
               becomes the handmaiden stark
                  of multiverse bulbs welling off
     Fought gravity yielding its error of beauty eternal

.....

Rain-camels, slashed open to catch:
still they walk with the world
clopping cobblestones into place
as the acid fills the flesh dunes
making them walk, without haste:
mouth of daylight hell ahead, teeth defined
by the buildings that mimic them,
in that mouth: offices transcendent
with low-lit vacancy, their holders flown
to chase phantoms with gnashing unlatched
cases of flaming statistics, which have
the bureaucratic anarchy
of large group fucking

.....

As the white fringed orchid flogged him with a riding quirt
malleable iron castings polished to a satin finish in deep extragalactic space
sprawled out across the aqueous network of glass headquarters
a row of flashing signals on the people who became faceless


earth, air, fire, and pattern of ridge and furrow stripped at both ends
their delicate shades of blue, pink, cream, lilac and rows of tall trees marching right to the edge

.....

Whether pushing a snow wheel
       or moving three tons of guitars
         into a darkened hangar


       light that has reacted
              to what's in its way
             spreads on target


        takes the circuitry from its shields
           and places it against the sky
               to be made leather by rain


           the friendship of a changing place

.....

Hell-bent song, full of tweezers
and rage-beaten maps,
hold your coil still within me
until it can pierce
     the firmament with curses,
     until it can seethe and inhabit
          the wounds of whole civilizations,
     until all is at risk of being forever lost.


Make of me
     a melody that wrings
          the epiphanic clouds
              free of blue,
  and make the blue places
also light up, recorded or
                               unrecorded.


For I have been in holy sections
with my consciousness smashed in like a bank account
let me be now unblessed,
complicated and compounded
                   ten thousand fold
 by the song at the root of all songs
 by the library that sings in a cliff
    and the ocean a line lovingly
                                   inattentive.


Dance into
              a protected scope,
         scatter the astral video of leaves
            blowing that lives there,
                in a cabinet hallway,
                     saying "monster".
  Scatter my partnership
         to the arabesques of out-of-control gardens
        so that I might see
             someone coming with water.

.....

She lounges on a mushroom
     with her hand on the hatchery
         of unforced feeling, root-music
            of elms withstanding
       a century of disease
   where they hum on the land
                    in strong droves,
          silver-bronze lamps, in the soil


She thrills the envelopes
           underside of the thawing bridge
      He blankets a field of horror ants
    with denim and lank form
      they are on a hunt for
                          miraculous  eyeglasses,
     unattended lavish banquets,
        things that fish for
                                the dead

.....

The spill of the centuries
      flows vein to vein
               in these limbs,
     a danger is carried in it,
       cell to cell it laughs,
      making the chemical structure of chaos,
             the body an emblem high
          on the mantle of crushed things
       travelling at the speed of solar system
                 moving families of rifts
                             into smaller rifts
                       large rift by rift

.....

Wrought-iron railing around the pane of glass
a mantle of glaciers by the slope of the land
a disc of silver, a disc of paper or cloth


to reshape a complete body within a few hours
a brand-new hydra drawn together at a load ring
the soft pulp of the optic sun star


blood leaks between the chambers as the sound of the univalved animal
piles and bulkheads and gravel catalysts
magnetic force throwing slaves into water stairs

.....

          Music or other human minds
the blissful electric bell aware of the order


                                 out-of-body loudspeaker king
                                           butcher in a house of worship
                           cholla cactus gashed by an imploding bulb
                                              a flockmaster's industrial chain-mail


                                                 bright rim lighting silent floor of the capsule
                                                          heat flashes between clouds develop these powers
                                                                                                                        not the future event

.....

If you and I cannot speak
   to one another's souls,
     nothing is lost; the fault of time
       is permitted.  But the rift it opened:
     completely faded afterworlds,
   incubators broken in long rows,
 the weather planned down
     to a glint on the pillow.

.....

Just as, when young, I saw
      different beings begin
  to drip over their edges into one another,
     so I see them now
  amalgamation atop amalgamation
 the radiance of friction in flesh


  Just as, a prisoner like
     the rest, I reached out
  to be entangled, I reach now
     to be solved by some miracle.

FALSE BEARDS AND PADDED COSTUMES MIGHT SLICE INTO THEIR CONSERVATORY

Ends of a magnet are called from a whiplike mold
hauled to the surface in white satin caps


the flight deck silhouette
birds of coal, oil, iron, film, and fingernail polish


big terminal buildings with fixed wings
mum entropy and its shadow of doom on well-cut linoleum

.....

Let the silver drop away to reveal
       the silver engine.  Tasks of daylight
                  to be done away with
   that lead the eye in the woodpile
     treed cat watching a wire
         move in the contempt of your soul
               to paw the wood
    stacked on the stacked fire of its being
             grained to sing with microcosmic flight
                    in knotted crannies
                      whose still refusal
                                   strengthens the tide of the trees.

.....

Face me from summer,
arrived in the bright cold
to be held and nourished
by the trickle of void's musicality
just above silence.


While the thickets seal their stems
melt command with response
so that when the flower of language drops off
there will be conception.


Tell me with the test of a limb's hinge
how much we are holding.
Trace clouds to size
the shape of the brow's
focus on aimless treasure.

.....

The blackjack thickets on strips of windswept height
gravitation shattered across the surface of a pond receptacle
and the anal fin black with a gill cover placed like a blown fuse.


Notched silhouette, sungrazing ashwood and boiled leather
a big-boned war-horse painted over with ritual bath,
a new cloak, and a blow on the wing tip
while its mirror-image was inert
from the translucent intestines.

.....

Like a proud chicken
      one side alive with dragonflies
           the ovum with an old set of instincts
       with a lantern in the pores of an eternal clock
     an inverted saucer that pushes the continent apart
   abyssal plains all brass-colored hot black wire
 spines beneath the eye a velvety phase reflected
supernova remnants running over limestone shelves
   the water-lily leaves watching stillness propelled by three moons

SAUNA-LIKE ASTROLAB

     In the master's metal coat: the pits
            waist-length braids spilled out of her hooded mantle
                                                                    she had read the classics


                         known to dive well beyond relatively thin sheets of flesh
                                    and the plow and the drainage ditch and the egg clutch
                  their introduction into the drier areas constantly reloaded with thousands of tiny cattle


                          when the vessels are closed with the care of diamond cutters
                                  and the heat is carried off in scarlet cloth
                                                                  with armor and trappings
                                                                            gradually extinguished

.....

Peaks with stone cities     white neutral wire
         bathhouses, tables, barbecue     spray out icy matter
              as a small disk of light     served in primitiveness
                         to a tank of hungry living three-prong plugs     through you.

.....

His sacraments were light to her moving blade in sculptural poses
     the animal with four legs bunched tripping all twelve shutters in a row
         abundant fatty shrimplike enemy of the soul grown almost to look like
                 the bones of our wrists, hands, and fingers flat and broad flippers the wings
                     and huge paws with heat
                                 shields, on top of
                                 the mantel

.....

Shot from a corner, the feel of surmountable force


full-fledged systems: impeccable old baskets
of lowly creatures denied a combat role
shining out of the same star field by a female cook,
sleeve to rail
hex socket
double handful of bones
the roar of the library of congress

.....

Another lake-dwelling person, coming out of a lighted house
caught in deep strawberry marks
climbing rose pattern as the light slowly becomes dim,
staining the sandstone cliffs geranium red through amber to white


swirls of gold braid on the sleeves produce sounds ranged in a spiral track
plasmid ladders on moving trucks, and balloons of the dark water

.....

Steel darkened warm mineral springs--the wide
                 trackless trains of liquid world city to city
                   fuse goggling eyes, lolling tongues, and the victims dancing on the scaffold,
                            calling out undulating dark lines
                                                            fish-like far and wide
                                             the rest of the body is cream carbon
                                    odd-looking bones right through the muck down
                                          thundering frog chorus under the clouds
                                                                             far away from the old system

.....

We kept the summer in high rooms
     pancaked the outside
  tall glasses on our arms watching stones parked in the river
       shine clasps on a moon that would not come
         plummeting to the deeps of the street
                            to chase life, to experience the favor of drifting molecules,
                                                          to shatter the radio mirror
                                                             in an artificial wood,
                                                           to disown silence
                                                       watch the trucks like a thought,
                                                                cumulus lit up,
                                                                         stoplights striking in error

.....

Thousands of years to the light in the brain for two kinds of worlds
             light; the slender rods mains-powered aimed at saving and promoting life
                    skin is sanded off, to produce needles or special instruments stained dark by acid
                          overhanging trees phosphorus ooze around the mouth and eyes  
                                these diagrams raised in a man-made pond
                                    where they resumed their perpetual ceremony
                            shoots of autumn wheat in black ridges tunic and boots to a meeting
         glass framing sections and his thin flesh and the rough wool of his leg
     she declared as a doorway between the spirit and the rejuvenated earth
  the coastal silver that includes
    seeds for winter wheat that buried the village of semiplastic rock
           petrified cattle ranches lost scratchings indifferent land
                there is a wide strip across the full range of the earth's palette
                    whimsically bricked oval frames, reached for in music

.....

Certain brilliant hummingbird feathers are created by ridges in mother
                 oil-groomed spermaceti in the bulbous head of gold leaf
                            the despoiler 6000 bulls of variegated color
                                        restorer buoyed up by the edge of the sea
                    downward cleaving first the air when they are out of water
                       we are rough men mixed by the wind
                          a hank of hair on their entire and
                           like most substances, fall asleep quickly
                              tube-rack upon rack of them--condensing
                                 sealed by massive, hinged lids filled with trouble because yellow has
                                                                                                added to the red light
                                  lead-colored drums radiate their stored heat into the rooms
                                    the curvature of the drop refracts so that the tank sits on a firm, level wall

.....

Just one prison bar.
 And I closed my eyes
      and leaned my face against it
          for half my life.


That metal staff could stand
   in a forest, an empty avenue,
             an embattled glacier;
         still I would mute
            my features.

.....

The primitive beaut
slaw cutter


A heart-shaped mirror a wooden portal
tilt-top tea layer by layer an old child will shelter my soul with color


Greek houses are whitewashed red rust--to best hide and deflect the evil
milk paint iron doorstops, idle art chockablock with American