Dawn split me

I stared at my prettier fragment

while the lightning

followed her to Earth

and I fell upward

to lunar grey

to inhabit where she hid

and come out only

to attach her coils

to my hot nest

to my symphony

of shining chairs

and floating bows

the sound of gliding boats

and clunking oars

a canal outside

a brick ledge window

brings me back to harmonize

with her dare.

We slide down the shine

of a glass dome,

fondling each other's

serpentine necklaces,

watching hell's maps made flesh

take a labyrinthine gulp.

Lights gel bedded

in fractured roads, torn islands

spilling crumbled minerals

and the play of ancient roots

all frazzled abandon sewn through

with a lurking permanence,

forms hung like clothes

on strangely insistent hangers,

wigged spirits

half gone and arrived in song.

If the sky has a trap door

to the leaping background

that stars like bullet holes

indicate while wavering

in celestial steam,

in your naked outline

let me pig out on the richness

of so much dangling shade,

so many vines that reach

planets in purple turmoil

if the serpents all

have the same disruptive

singing mouth

let me fall to the arms

of a secret south

and nestle in its hinge

while the solar wheels

gulped by black holes

let us out into the depth

beyond the fringe.

You are folding the flowers

into glowing stamps,

taking all the humming circuits

into a hidden center,

tugging my strands of life and death

with you into radiant abyss,

cleft by a pierced shadow,

linking my bones on fire.

You paint the rags

that hang from metal trees

in a twilight courtyard.

I stand with my mouth open

stuck to all the flaking ages

flying past

hoping the hot sight

lasts.

Empires of cobweb

lit up by a chain of bulbs

that sear their alien verbs

into my singing vertebrae

and part the lips

of savage hills

with falling water.

The longing for wolves

the rawness of their sight on snow

souls wincing next to televised houses.

The nexus of raving beauties

who send my crooked avatar

leaping a cliff's star map

of protruding teeth

healed by a backward ax

in some soft orbit.

Shadows that handed you

leaves bleeding bittersweet words

without my face or name.

THE FLOWERS OF METAL

The flowers of metal

dungeon heat for asphyxiated cold

demon dark lit up by love

in a stroke of ferocious mercy,

blades melted to the mountain's root

for the granite mouth's

blacksmith profanity

pagan heel denying

the ascension of master's babyface

springing from vein to vein

flying kicks in a quantum realm

madonna deflowered

for mischievous crucifix

bronze halls of required error

calmly holding the plumes of fire.

You are the scorched sky

of love's planet,

two hands

on a wheel of snakes,

lights flying

through the glass tone

of oiled bodies,

curbstones ripped

by a hailstorm

of giant diamonds,

dog's faces looking

longingly at troughs of meat

they will never touch.

You are the clutch

of fragrant matter

flowers in a basket

twitching with fresh cut life

like my frayed

and radiant veins.

Stems firing ragged letters,

long leaves tickling streams

of cloud-veiled air,

lips carved from granite

screaming silence against

the leaden moons

hung on singing wire

a temple of bamboo

festooned with drums

that tingle in frenetic thunder,

two sets of arms

hugging the same radiant oval

of subtracted space,

ring's rim of a meteor's range

the deranged surf

scattering rejected knives

where one handprint rides.

Set alight

in an ocean of fragments

held tight between

rope of clouds

kitten cool as ice

watching the shapely fire.

Stunned eyes in an arc

cutting through the horizon.

Flags are painted rags

in the shivering twilight.

Hands that reach through miles of glass

to meet in a storm of orchids

where we are aching water

and the flat sun sails.

Tangerine peels in the cannon's mouth

stems crawling into razor leaves

roots flailing through a vacant earth

as the sky produces soil

playgrounds heaving old bones into sunlight

chainlink fences running veins

to an oil soaked pyre

paint cursive tongues of mercury

fumes pouting from a melted mouth

eyes asleep in the grass hereafter

fruits of an ancient hand

the water of the land has a copper grip

that stops up alien batteries

and wets the pillars of winter

with summer lips.

She vibrates the twilight

talks to frozen whirlpools

from a violet shrouded hour

glass flaunts her offhand dancing

in the aisles of a curdled dusk

with granite guardrails

where we walk

toward each other through the telephone

flown man makes his cross on Venus

leather pants laughing on powerlines

dreaming of a rapt guitar

low stations

get their intricate motors raging

neon oils paint the water

harbor's ranks of salted blades.

Descending into caverns of volcanic light

two tiers for the weapons of the spirit

coalescing in a boundless world

for garlands of her hair

to walk on lightning

eyes dripping with the colors of the core.

Ropes of living fiber

binding bodies to bodies

tense across canyons

sun's bloom on their yawning twine.

Veins for the moon

trilling twilight creatures

clocks ticking with the drums

that made them wheels of sight.

Gravestones pockmarked

by laser dancing

guardrails painted

with silver light.

Slapstick loves

the great beyond that shreds bodies

and leaves bright souls

fluttering in battered air.

Hermits dancing

who never met in life

launched from their woodland cabins

to an astral horizon

copulating with the final curve.

Clouds were tables in another life

where I sat surrounded

flowers and laughing clowns

fast forward to twilight

the yield of rain filled shoes

to jagged feet

sun shattered into drooping daffodils

tongues frozen to rubber trees

in the lamp cracked forest.

Paved paths are lichen painted now

the moon lives on in stone

it turns out that a cosmic tic

kept the illicit glow

surviving blood and steel borders

flying through the spouts of lively canals

the resolution of plunging fowl

decked out in denied lightning.

When I bring my dawn to you

with a thousand rushing tunnels

through a mountain of tainted fog

and the yards fill up with green water

and the morsels of time

all gather wings and beaks

into the grand natural robot continuum,

we will be the yearning circuitry

that fills the tanks of paint

with a chain of tongues.

Days in the basement heart

where I wait beneath

a sledgehammer of rain

for the lost awakening

and the shape

of your name in my hands

that has gone missing

a thousand teacups floating

on a mighty river

give off a plaintive light

and turn in the current

I watch from a disconnected terrace

the lingerie of night trees and their leaves

waving farewell to a curveless world

man's dead straight lines ending in sand

before the palace of the sky

engulfs the written rye.

Rip my lungs out of the valley

ornament my bones

on the gleam of a fortress wall

let the monolith of lives

rise from between my spent ribs

and radiated eyes

make castles of coiled rope

go up upon my organ piles pale

sky opened like a fridge door

sun's jawbone of a shark outline

corpse water halfway up

my fading form

I'll walk

the glass cracked labyrinth walls

from the top down with peacock staircases

and watch the lilacs

run.

I will fracture

these dots of pain

with my high silver chisel

until the blade runs with jewels

and the sky's thumb

and forefinger

bring you close to me,

I will mow the edges

with teeth of dawn

and watch twigs shower down

from your reclining cloud,

I will collect

the badges of moonshine

from a cool blue shore

and place them in a tray

that seals the light

while you watch

from my arms in stone.

Roads of dirty ice

crawling through the palace walls

snakeskin dances from the underworld

unfurled in rain and radioactive twilight

broken lines that never merge in love,

fatigued kisses of distracted entities,

entropy in long rooms, delirious smoke,

ping pong in the silent mirror,

no escape says what the well belches

along with the bones

and the shadows of bodies

to reanimate their seductive suffering

and trances of detached prayer,

one lightning stroke

to the vast typewritten lair

and all becomes rings of vibrating hair

where the bell falls to atom Earth.