THE DEITY

Even as I create I am disappearing.

I spend myself on a world that rarely cares.

Weighed down with sacks of cast-offs,

spinning them all into threads

of blood-streaked gold.

Folded realms that speak only to me,

faint spirits in poison dust,

avoiding the telescopes.

Ropes of ectoplasm jutting

from ecstatic wounds.

Slabs of some discarded frozen magma

tree rings in vampiric flesh

exposed by blades and spicy vapor

paths deep in the park

that riots past midnight

glint of hooves fleet as the wind

touched by the embers

long slate fields

with acres of evaporating water

branches fallen on a stage lit

imitation moon.

I was addicted to some climactic vision

but the truth is in the wearing away,

the wearing away.  Diminishment.

A popped boil of the species

and its centerless limbs.

Look away from the annihilating wall.

Believe the erasing banner.

Still the loneliness of death calls

not like a dog or a wolf

but like a descending dove diving

in hunger to coast the fertile surface

a prophet with a sealed tongue

driving veins through sand.

I'm thinking about Iggy Pop tapes

thinking about armchair sex

at the dawn window and the end of an era

as the bottle fell faintly

from a failing hand

and the upholstery of memory

tore for a spiritual riot,

a mist of light purging

mannered speech from hammered air.

I'm remembering a moss covered ditch

with blueberries on each side

and the buzzing night gone white

through afternoon with its presence

all arrayed too soon.

The weight of nut-strewn acres

gray light of the cloaked high sun

the bone is a dismal dynamo

hot blood pumping threads

through the earth

in synergistic coils

kinetic clay of ears

formed up from bedrock death

frame cashed of the outlaw giver

bringing seeds like grains of sand

new rain from an ancient hand.

I have been beaten down

into the roots of this place.

I rise when the sap rises.

The blades of furniture

that crowd the shaded floor

were carved by aching hands.

The severed noose I wear

becomes a sacrament.

The ribs open like a bird's wings

from my half butchered instrument.

The ground divided by my feet

has lips like a curling mountain.

I unfurl as a flag of kingdoms gone

and fall down to become a fountain.

They pass their demons to me

and I pass mine back to them.

Colors of delight and fire

fly between our crooked fingers

themes of spines adjusted

through unstructured fields of space.

Strategies of angels

falling through volcanic mouths.

Dice bouncing on the frozen bridge

that leads under the highest tower,

a laser focusing to burn.

The head gear in the grid

turning rust to oil

resembling the divine stem

trembling to meet a clay urn

with water's yearning.

The princess standing on a massive turd.

Frozen excrement expanding in the streets

as we decorate our footprints.

Mania sprayed from mechanical clouds

emerging as empty thought.

Manufactured inertia running out to nowhere

walls paved with corporate religious digitech

drowning in a sea of rotten eyes

that only look down.

Seek through the wrecked fast food cathedrals

the forgotten knowledge

of the first painter's cave

and spirit's pigmentation,

of the monk's beard and the witch's pussy

meeting to crush away

the hasty grids of the enforced unreal

and the shit feeders who sleep

in its cursed android embraces.

We are each other's nightmares.

Worse and worse sequels.

Tongues bitten off faintly tasting

each other in a curdled vat.

Belated reversion to corrupted norms

singing in a fried wire

untraceable ghosts

decaying flesh with fresh

identity cards.

Biological imprisonment

making a joke of the soul.

Let the gash stare back

at the regretful knife

allow the blood to play

on these painted floors.

May the cells rise like the snores

of sleeping gods

who die in bed

dryly choking.

Hollow vines grow through

my body screaming

skulls of glue and glitter

cardboard cut out shadows

set against a gigantic wall

blades dancing in a blueprint cloud

the height of branches reaching

ethereal green to gobble

the blood from an unspent sky

Calendar pages have tastebud eyes

each blank runway

to a hidden cracked horizon

spreads its tendrils in an ocean mirror

wires with words in coils

each heated cone in its embroidered forest

every glass warped box thicket

trembling high in snowcloud lace

each botched flesh stapled reminder

every tight foot printed cube.

Yards of elastic teeth,

frayed ropes of glitter painted tinsel

fences folded up in boxes

wells blinking underground

in the canvas of night

for eyes and tongues that seek

from the sight of sleep.

November's gone to the hacked marrow

of last December's last moon,

skies of raging ruin

for stacked mammals,

fireworks from garbage can mouths

in the furrows of a bankrupt south.

Patios adrift in orchards

searchlight cartoons, friends of an enemy,

stretching to meet the locus

of the divine locater,

willows gone to reeds

hewn ragged on the hollow breeze.

Petals fallen stick to tar

from a lilac massacre

a meteor of melting sugar

stacks of bent car frames

swaying squeaking in the backyard

shocked rings of radiant stones

around the rhythm of a planet whirlpool

Strangers of my life, all

floating downstream

from the echo's land

that launched bright blood creation,

bone's cloak of burning sex

If favorite alleyways could

cut up the night and prevent it

from ending, if pine needles

could negotiate with a shaken branch,

if puddles frozen could enter

my bedscape from a careless dream

Maybe the beams of sound

are ever reaching,

maybe the road will flick like a tail

away these dead skin cells

and crawling light

to a faster track inhaling zero,

hands that touch electric trails

come to make up a sand hero.

The solitude I used to seek

has filled with ghosts

the sculpted stone is a live animal

the ruin of the cones and pyramids

collects into an obelisk

one raging slab suspended

over the sucking world

paths flashing under interim stars

guardrails from the wooden heart.

I reject all your suggestions, machine.

Time strapped on the deck

made a fungus for my dreams,

we recorded our tapes

over and over

to drown the closeness

into muffled fantasia,

we watched the rivers like

baby fingers grow and grow

as the rank sun cascaded

the solemn repetition

of the roof tiles

and all the antennas

cried and cried

and all the neighborhood cliff faces

ran with raw ink

pipe-strained leakage of artificial snow

as the glass dome grows.

My Frida Kahlo coffee cup

is stained with turmeric,

on a rack of metal wheels

next to the Charlie Brown

pine tree

laced in lights and dying.

We live in the most magical time yet.

Fecundity of ephemera

wearing a nonetheless soul,

the tunnel's tiny hole

a diamond-bright insight.

This will be the year of the cosmic Christ,

drunk on drums and dancing:

of a Christ who fucks finally at twenty five,

changing the nature of the mission.

Study the insects who made nuclear fission.

Wind billowing is not

expressing itself.

Long panels of sanded wood

groan without pain,

a brain-hinge gives way in reaction.

The sky is eating shit.

Clouds make poor ribbons

around the poison sun.

I learn to love the breeze

that doesn't make the weather report.

I learn to bleed and die

quietly.

The beauty of Satan is beauty,

that's the beauty of Satan

beauty with no moral meaning

no directed plan, just energy flares

sent up by an unquiet spirit

who suspects he's a flake of God,

God without authority getting

bashed in the skull,

and all the better for it.

Look at the cunt of the growing forest

lacerated with exposure by the moon.

Make a death wait til the depth of noon.

My life of silhouettes

has been bombed by flesh

strings lashing disembodied tongues

the beginning of infinity

sparks through a car stereo

rope ladders rolling down aluminum walls

bone hoops and hinges

tight berries of electric blood.

The dark blue dome is overhead

with all its white scrawled songs

paths are sprawling and yarnlike

with overnight blossoms

hills rippling in the force of divine vision

the savage seed erupting again

for its turn of tar and steel

cables cast on an ethereal wheel.