Not the crooked mouth

of anesthetic that I took

or the hills climbing

that are sexed and bulbous

or the hallowed shacks of music

where I shook my bones

and ascended in a pale light

only the solitary benches

oozing wax at dusk

and pools of engine water

where I make my way

only the crumpled longing

salvaged by the blood

that goes in flame above

and the water of speech that stays

quiet on the tongue.

Blood surf of my bloodshot eyes

hollow tunnel of a sunrise

seen from ass-beaten sand

palms blowing to the cemetery wind

that sweeps the grey horizon

through a red clay mouth

and out a brick vagina

snails peppered round the fireplace

that fried their moth wings

a mutant salad seen

from a dog's face

the jelly of carved marble

in a pulsing thousand years

rust's lunar elastic.

Field after field

linked by corroded rivers,

vines reaching to the film

of planetary nimbus,

over fences deep

in a pit of rich soil,

dreams on the water's face

drifting toward a blue fire,

daisies sprouting through

a broken stone, blades

of a propeller's churning

chopping lard

from a trapped brain case,

pine branch's handprints

climbing to a satin veil

dropping hot between

the slide of earthly worlds.

A cleft in the hills

where the skin listens

sky scrubbed grass fades

brown to gently seething swamp

foil of fallen buildings

question marks on mud

nails from evaporated boards

like slugs on brick

a sanctuary pit

where dying organs

form a choir

and resolve in tortured avatar

strings resurrect

the bones of my teeth

a serpent series glistens

the tank full of torches

burns with sweetest oil.

These mossy blocks of brick,

thorn veils of antique wells,

this beauty on her knees gulping seed

all fill with light aged

rays building vaults in space

landing on pennies and rain

punching a steam umbrella.

These corkscrew vines and ivy haze,

mold platforms and fungal foundations,

fingers following the lightning

to an echo's panting basement,

are refracted in a maze of eager blood

a chained lung breathing.

Wings blooming in long halls

the neon orifice

anointed through a speeding web

pursed seams of universe's end

crackling toward an electron letter

windows blazing at the peaks

of concrete pyramids

the ax blade of one face

separating cream of sky

and finding home in zero.

Green hills

behind the fire of bones

canals caressing

lard painted rocks

rooms lit by the lonely

porches dripping down

a cliff face of paint

metallic spiral doors.

The street I knew

scraped bare by roving plows

that never return

to any stop or station

curbs and rutted corners

swirling in a mist

of pink eruptions.

Cloth eyes and button mouths

gone far from animating wires

the upward paths

descending into space.

Hell's favorite underling

who takes the brightness from the blood

bone plaything

boiling paint

with a transparent kettle

casting lines upon the leaden sea

head baked into an unmoving cloud

spoon mouth startled in a pillar of clay

electric dancing brows

and copper feet singing.

A clock of smashed teeth

swirled inside a ring of eyes

stuck to this foggy blade

of funneled sunlight.

A lion in the cracked crust

torn map of the fertile Earth

alone with wired jaw

roaming slopes of concrete

pierced by the magnetic rib

bridges of highway undersides

wood growth over wrecked houses

moon's crux vine covered poles

a creaking city arc

from rural parkland soaring

the dim time's radiance

of walks on chains

and rope fed light

one lonely bottle deposit

to gulp the swamps of glass

and leave his dry mane flying

separate as a mask.

The glories of those days

when the world was open

I could not taste

from the ribs of my frozen barrel

I rolled around smoking

on oily wheels

in a glass case avoiding faces

in a paint tub of wounded spiders

on a raft made of soaked erasers

I stood my lens against a fallen spear

and stared a train tunnel into being

on the tar of blood I watched

the bright garages

fallen oaks with airplane dashboards

sky's flank of seething veins.

Orbs above the mountain

blinking and signing

trails of their lights

cutting diamonds of dusk

from the frail continents

from the high bronze walls of ice

trash glittering in heaps

and riding round fountains

threads of unraveling heaven

atwitch on the rails of yeast

that bloom in rutted miles

A gelatin ballroom

with scarf receipts

draped across transparent chairs

the naked guests departed

to the roaring woods.

Ice teeth

left in a lady's cup

growling and chafing

at a crumpled cloth.

All trains of light in grooves

a spinning chandelier

candelabras to the wind

that swept them here.

Fecal hexagrams

with cocaine pinpoints

floating through

the cave of flashbulb corn.

Faces made for masks

and slinky vertebrae

fading frames of painted crimes

giving off a nimbus

of hot spit.

Shades of the love

that turned to rancid teeth

tripping around

a sun scorched corner.

Bots in their dance of care

melted down

to less than dust.

My animal face,

my animal days,

sliding down the mirrors

of a desert-ridden water tank.

Spokes of the sacred wheel

shattered in my skull.

Holy books opened

by a hurricane.

Oil of a distant world

drizzling over

spraypainted helmets

and eyeglasses.

A shining trench

of gold sprinkled

with silver bullets.

A candle in the ribcage

blood trinity of halos

my animal face,

my animal days.

My swallowtail love

subtracted from all the hours

singing on flattened plains

emptied of all activity

do you see the statues bending

from flags and fiery air

scarred hills with nests of clay

shadowed by transparent overpass?

Will the trains start up

in your timekeeper,

will the pocked shells move?

Only the orange blaze on grey

your dove shape and smoking form

dancing in my cracked eyes

can animate the stain

of electric ages.

The seams between these hills

glisten and bristle

with the pressure of passing planets

open up their rock sewn lips

and sing to moss and wood

the fungus gleams

from a cliff's half buried root

a moon scythe

sweeps over a spine stack of eyeballs

and sinks through intestinal sleep.

Here under this

lichen coated hat

I miss my red songbird

staring through the holes

she pecked in the air

dying to hear her flap

through broken windows

lingering on the couch

that she imprinted with sweat

rolling to the stream in the floor

where I find my drunk bones waiting

cloaked in all the hell

she left behind to fly.

Drowning my life in plaster

the stage set dawn

rolls on its scenic wheels,

the accidental reveal

of its bitter machinery.

Beets and onions,

flanks of cow

carved on its circular blade

tumble to the pooled hereafter.

Edges gather wire

the shoreline creeps

to a burnt sky

a bicycle's electric pole

finds the track

of a galactic trolley.

I dream of the next sonic drawbridge

dancers bursting

with their henfeathers of flesh

the stones of the mountain

shining at me from its shades

of mined and rippling matter.

A cabin clenched in shifting earth

where I will be left alone

to be cosmic plastic.

The arc that I recorded

with my beauties in taffy tow

strings for electrified fingernails

limpid bellies below

the towering water tanks

impaled by fragmented stone

snakes of radiant tar

cooling on the riverside

wide mouth naming wires

steps of ice with shattered alphabets

office cubes holding the chaos

of love's wild nights

in cellophane stasis

singer with a vacuum

dancing through faint cylinders of trash

cans that drink the fading numbers

the popped tongue's tab

destroyed in screens of light.