The brush's handle
broken between fallen walls,
a mind still painting.
Bricks soft at the corners
like the teeth of a beaten god.
In and out of porous borders
to retrieve the handle,
scratch the duct of the forebrow's eye,
popping in the grasp
of a dissatisfied priestess.
Oil blossoming on sharpened stone
in the dusk-beaten womb
of the last hour.  Frightened eyes
learning their enemies
adding dances
to the battle in a dusty mirror.
Frenzies from the core of the earth
making the pipes sing
to their broken apex.
Languishing weapons of sex
in the furnace of abandoned loves.
Countertops swivelling
on lands of wheat stock
and fertilized tar.
Bamboo shoots
sanding sockets of turning skulls
that have seen their ecstasy
plop to earth from the arse
of a disenchanted giant
whose ribs are the slaves
of biologic hate--
a fan of knives
leaking belts of blood
on the shackles of an empty covenant.

Broken-backed stoopers
painting the bridge's undergrowth
with the spit from their mouths
that flows with many shades
from behind the gums,
from the deep beneath the jaw
dig these color capsules
out with their blood,
to artfully smear the river
of concrete death and blockage
crushing past their path.

Dog food hills
doused in fire water
big green out of the hot blue earth
blades of dinosaur tongue slabs
neck-gap flossed by veins that are flying bats
barb wire teeth in cocoa butter
sunsets frilled with poisonous gills
a card signed by a severed arm on lingerie pulleys
coat hangers of frozen dust
roses of glass on the furnace gun
the hand grip of godlike forces
descending limply in water.

Pills of sealed pine
nudging lunar eyes over the ski slope
lodges packed in wind and gobbling tar
huge cans of what the field gave sealed in tin
the lingering of a hand on the ax
pathways furrowed with limp receipts
temples sculpted in craft of shadow
coins tugging strings shot through their muted faces
high roofs for the bare feet of prostituted prophets
grass mats in an oil slick
sweating from the warfare of their dim ideas
hills bulging with ice cream cannons
mated tassels struggling loose from a heap of seed pods
long lines of wire smoking on the fertilized mountains
satellite towers thatched with abrupt branches.

WHEEL, BICYCLE, AND AIRPLANE GAIA

Panties, stockings, bras--globes of Earthlike worlds
the rings that circle a gas giant a curving crescent of light
labyrinths that looked like branching antlers of the stag-horns
the vivid green band of palms and the metal was crumbly with rust
beneath polar ice and large mouths lined with a goddess hominid
a popular disc-jockey soars, groans, swings, sings, solos
in beards, babies, and beehive hairdos
on the fence between the mechanical and
nothing but a dead-black rectangle.

THE BUILDING OF AUTUMN MOUNTAINS IN THE BEGINNING GOLD

Folded hills that mist over as dough hits tables
gloved to roll day's flour and bamboo
I remember all my lost bitches fondly
log cabins wild in the dawning of high new england
caves crackling open to the hang glider's mind
fingers bobbing over cups of moss
earthen boulders burying a shopfront
thumbprint nickels that identify the sun
floors of aching vagrant music
blanket wrapped ribs and dim eyes
pool's hurricane of leaves and apples
swirling fiber optic forehead's brush
twinkling on ancient photos
seeds in the net that holds untapped
the scum of an untouched hand.

Stillborn beauties
heat-slapped
on the hearth of a radiant fire
speaker wire wrapped around the mustache slab
yelping hollow and tall
losing limbs in bags of blood
losing face in the bellowing air
stitched on granite eye-cubes
talking to a crooked letter
billowing streamside bushes that track the air
with plant knowledge and overcome the trees
the buckwild servant of laughter
slapped on the ass and running naked far;
stones on the lids that have passed
rivers through the eons under rivers
whip curling around the lips that kiss death.

Falling paths that scrape the canyon without claws
streamers of bent wheat tempting the wind
rivers of ruinous poisoned concrete
swallowing rabbits and goldenrod
steam in the vents of a broken godhead
swirling pots of alchemical death
chewing up the chainlink
graffiti hands pinched under a bridge
that emits a bubble gum smell
given by hot torches that spray
the black onto grey,
and the eyes out of the current
that have seen their prey in the mirror
and lay down their arms
on unbroken glass.

The ledge stabbed with chairs
cracking in glued air
planks drifting in mud eyes
the diamond of the anus
on the third forehead
rubber wheels drummed
by the bumping of severed arms
in their inner circuit,
cliff pouring with crawling bodies
that have tasted the filth
of an incomplete death,
split cedars grinning with hate
from a monkey crack.

The arch stretched by a bubble's mask
the universal gate turned to a doghouse
the cosmic turd lowered into a brain pain
that grinds its paint for blade-filled brushes
cutting dances into walls for rhythmic falls
that move dust like light
from the vacant mouth's
tongue of crushed eyes.

Through the escaping nets of trees
the unhinged doors turn like screws
to deposit eyes where the blind body sat
on rock wall's moss ridges of mineral rising
like weed through bones
the linked fingers of hooked hands
pulling magnet's taffy of blood
down to roots for the pine climbers
always ascending and falling veins
waves of pattern'd air over a cracked hive
elevators hiss through crumbling soil
a kiss opens two halves of wheat
and the sky dumps light.

Grey tips of incandescent surging,
a continent of sponge purging its underbelly
with planetary light,
roots from broken shafts
of hologrammed soil,
ring rain of the exploded earth
painting dirt in hot ribbons--

revved-up water boiling and eating,
highways mushrooming into volcanic deserts,
signposts stuck through the farting belly of man,
flowers of penile skin meeting the all-american cheese grater,
dripping onto the steel belly of a belted woman
follicles of the sky's torn birth
firing the oil of crushed nerves
through her shitted hair.

The panes of the waning staircase
fading in a far field
fog and brambles
bloody cushion the fallen body
the longest branch
eats hands and mouths
glass holds the body
and sends through its transparencies
a shot-up apple
long linoleum floors where a water cup has fallen
and viscera flows
hampers of folded rye
and the food of reptiles
languishing on the end of a sword
to store up a frockless dancer
and spill pants on the runway
she has slashed and planted.

In the burning lands,
cradling the failure of the body,
plumes dancing on the oiled horizon,
wood standing that the hands of death haven't reached,
maggots coiled in the footprints that have filled with cowardly blood,
rotten eyes slit by falling bark,
angles of ripped hair exploding from a mountain peak
at the end of a field's length
rolled by steel and steam
mating with dark water,
green stalks shivering through
the stigmata of a dead hand.

The blazing insights that cleave
one from another, could they be made
to unite?

No.

Slopes pushing lips of mud
the river pursues its canyon.
Boat's tail snipped without blood,
houses whirling on the tips of fingers,
a cricket on the nose of every witness,
a crackling in the sex and vortex
that is insectoid, troubling the oars--
rivulet after rivulet of android brains
clotting the pipeline with
reptilian thought's traction--
handhold on the suction cup,
stadium size upside down.
The eyes of a hanging dummy
shot with eternal recognition.

Pastures glazed with the honey of blood.
Screens stuck to bush branches
wobbling in a light bath.
Roads from the eagle's head
cascading in helmets and ferns
invisibly with black tar.

Dumpsters hosed by propeller hands
sunshine rust made fit for living.
Lampshade eyes hovering to scan
the nude favorites.
Trees crumpled like paper
salt packets on a wide grey
cafeteria table.

Severed legs bumping
like special effect snakes
on the aisle's water.
And the blinking numbers and quotes
that no longer mean anything but the unanswerable
question of all that once did.

Shafts of pathway breaking the night.
Human toys lost in the woods glowing.
Logging roads blocked by dead machines and live bodies.
Plows passing that have scraped bone.
The weaponry in rolled-up eyes
increasing its gushing glue
minute by second.

Even for the thrill of safety,
I don't want to live under a man-made sky.
These skating apparitions and slanting trees
will join me in the highways of the whirlpool
trading flesh for my impact crater's child,
wild of luxuries that have left their mark.

Goat body in yarn
eyes fringed with hooks
shorelines painted with animal heat,
seagull's belly held in the hand like a banana,
nets of wind holding back a universal tongue,
trapped in the mutating sneer
of a form submerged too long in its bath of birth,
acids of vitamin-drenched juice
in the buds of a flaring reptilian ear,
he listens to the sirens he will eat
when their peach figs capture him.

Woman of long cloth and hidden archways,
smiting my walk with eyes,
torching the bridges sadness brought
to this bright veiled island,
swimming the sky with untangled wires,
pulling the drum skins tight and resonant
before leaving the partial exit
of my sorry head, with a tongue
tied tight to the roof of my mouth
and a wound no longer gaping
sewn up in arabesque.

My mouth turned
into a blood ukulele.
Streets of country beauty
strafed by metals
of a fallen city.
Materials climbing the air
that had yet to taste
a human lung.
And the fettered kisses
of a crashed cab
in a twilight of black red wine
and pebbles crushed by thumbs.

Ladyslippers
turning the vagrant's forehead
pink and eyelike
stems and bulbs that
tremble to catapult
in the hot earth cold
needles on the rib's vein
that rainbows between
broke-down houses
engine torn on a stone walk
the smoking ears of
a body-walked head
whose thoughts are shot through
frame beautifully used
tagged pirate silk
pouring through the gates alone
with the shadows of dead
used friends all around him.

The slugs come up to the sugarbowl
to see if there's anything left.
I'm sleeping in a rancid hallway
frowning at the flicker over a blanket
when the nubile crackers roll in.
They remove the vacuums
and electric cords, chattering
like disrupted birds.
Their bulbs are all over
the eyelids I keep down.
The see through ceilings lower the sun
on to the greased napkins
and paper lids, our naked limbs.
And all the lights turn to paper reps.