Heavy metal zen glaze

encased in globes of perfect frenzy

a xylophone of file drawers

a ceiling's interlocking teeth

transparent flesh revealed

in mirror panels

when the roads are quiet I rejoice

though they brought me to this island

in their fury of production

I was pissed into a dawn of milk

the demon of these ruins

trying to be reborn in secret

for infinite eyes to see

A dead end life to decorate

a drawer that opens under the ribcage

with reels of brightly colored wire

and hot split valentines

with winking sightless eyes

cracked angel hands holding a live bat

letting its lightweight bones and soft skin

struggle to fly for the caves again

a library of tattered script

rows of long tables each with only one chair

and huge rugs pregnant with incense

of perfumed psilocybin

fragrant at midnight and

fading in the morning sun

all powered by bicycle pedals

caught spirit moving shadow tons.

I saw division: now I see commonality.

We are all warped.  The fabric is listening.

Storms are in aquarium tanks tonight.

The moonlit ground is bright

as a rainless cloud.

The tree lined paths by the river's edge

host naked ghosts.

A blade swims like a drone

in these sleepy currents.

Shrines of waxen salt rock

epiphanies meeting steel

altar's cradle a pool of eggs

all speckled with the sunlight's dregs.

I see you in an alley between towers

drinking vapors from the air that has no name

painted naked on a brick platform

or riding on a velvet flag

you are the hard beauty

of underground things that rise

shrine's jewel of the hot cave hunter

that comes out in a cartoon waterfall

from broken rock and dripping seams

of wrecked projector screens

wet paths of dancing bones

that careen to thrones of ink

swamps frozen in the light that sinks.

Spikes of kissing fiber

on the chemical shelf

penetrating softly in a spiral staircase

orbs of thoughtful movement

in a parking garage

were left on the back brain burner

for glowing streets of lint

to be landed on in mothlike tandem

our antennas intertwined

and sending letters in powder

boxes of light gashed fingernail movies

I'm stuck on the ceiling

with these drone machines

trying to drop kitten style on your desk

watching the cardboard craters

that turn around the blood of your head

Lucid in a lava rain

a tree of brains

a sword shaped spaceship lit

by dancing nudes

in long bulbous windows

platforms of the damned

in bright hot garb

floating fangs in denture glasses

the angelic transcendence

of total ghouls

through syringe like chambers

into the veins of a dying

intestinal god

and a clearing with transparent pools

right through the fiction of the planet

where each wincing raindrop

can think while it falls

of a light beam birth canal

adorned in rancid chains.

I will rise as a red headed demon

from all the burning bushes

left behind by business as usual

in a visionary trance of inheritance

gift of avatars denied

reclaimed in orgasmic deity

I will gobble your dying society

and shit it out in unfolding architecture

while my body turns to a torn velvet glove

bridges of spinal light are forming

hot links above your cold abyss

my chaos has hands and feet that are unseen

this life performed in little corridors

will be exposed to space

and blades of tentacled eyes

carnal as the stars and wanting more

from your plasticene soil

and your stadiums of empty howls

a hammer of frozen seeds is turning

to make contact with your womb of many walls

sprouting many splendored halls

in octopus patterns

this rejected slattern is the mother

of your reborn world

to push you out into the roads of the void

that exist as raging playful strings

and the strength of all unspoken things.

THE ENDLESS SEQUEL

This is the freest prison

mankind has ever created.

Now celebrate, at gunpoint.

Don't worry, the gun's not loaded.

Your anxiety makes us uncomfortable.

We want you to worship the symbol.

The symbol of the gun,

that merely suggests a bullet,

this demands your adherence.

We don't talk about the real thing here.

Show strength and self-control.

We demand that you be joyful.

Our sacrifice necessitates your agreement.

Don't grovel!  That's embarrassing.

Your obedience must be voluntary.

It must be so voluntary

that your servitude

remains invisible.

Dark blue blades tear cotton sky

paths of metal flickering crawl

up hills that ate water for days

while I slept upright like a scarecrow

find me a fence to crash into spiritually

put me on wheels in a basket

let me find that criminal dream again

that I've been lacking like a leaf detached

from the sinning tree

I know all the functional charades

of the usual traffic

I know all about your implanted scars

your body of skulls

long daisy chain limbs

from the touchless future of fucking

I see the frame of your soul

is gold with hints of fractured purple

I see the end of all things is gathering

like flowers in a bed of dead flowers

all gone from the siren's bleached crow call.

Your beauty is gone

from these biblical bullshit aisles

gone from the icicles

that hang from nowhere

and the sweat of the dead

hangers dangling with ghostly clothes

the poles of old structures

glistening in rain bombs

while the windows tilt like aching wings

to throw off lightning sap

here is a bowl of burnished whale bone

here are the shadows painted

on the artificial light

here is a handle of mysterious silver

connected to nothing and

handed off to nobody at all

here is the knife it once had

playing the rib of my ribs

like an electronic drum set

I'm unalive as liquid granite

walking iron torn tar

swollen for your flashing curves

in playful transit

dancing in a cube of glass

through vacuumed layers of the time trap

sweet pollen past the dumpsters

that know my name.

She is small and dark furred

pert as a diamond tongue

counts vegetables instead of money

opening the gothic hinges

hidden in wooden drawers

paths of light pour out

of her limbs at rest

on the couch in break room bardo

where I'm floating on a thousand fanwaves

watching her drink black sugar

doors of heat are popping

like flower petals fed to the cinema

she likes to open up the portal

to the central nerve

feathers hold a miniature museum

rotating on a sweet dish in her magic head.

My ribs are tendrils around her form

her hair claws all my entrails in the dark

we bathe in the oil

that pools in a ruined cathedral

the wastes of bitter light

that crackles over dusty fissures

in an uneven floor

tang of the crushed plant's rooted fiber

powder of a parcel of ancient leaves

pentagrams of yarn on fake flesh

compartments in a maze that never ends

she answers back from ice

that is always waiting

answers back from acres

of polished, shining wood

in a crown of spouts that shows

the trickle of inverted fountains

glowing cursed in holographic marble

the strength of her ingenious wound.

Jets of eyeballs emitting steam

slabs of frozen fat

displaying prostrate beauties

chords of hot grid magnetizing particles

the walks of ghostly men alone

on beaches of metallic dust.

Labyrinthine gardens

rising from a well of screams.

No barriers in time, and no mere echo.

Stone crosses on the bottom of a pond.

My frog suit itching like a telepathic fire.

The hands that rise from wire bitten clay.

The altar's toys of seed and egg.

The God that begs.

My clay is fertile with torment

shoots of glowing fiber separate my veins

stringed instruments on swinging chains

this ledge is a chink in some vast spine

we look out upon public gelatin

electrodes burst with thinking feeling flowers

desks of granite bind the dock to an erupted floor

mouths talking through masks underwater

eyes lost in musky clouds of ink

in the disrupted fabric

my lovemaking bonds

are hooks in the cellwork

fangs erupting from the rings of mirth

An obelisk of frozen jelly

surrounds me and crowds my judgement.

It blurs the rays of light

that I want to be destroyed by.

It opens up the exit door within.

In dreams forced by motionless disgust

I walk through cities of alphabet air

time waves clouded by the human tongue

wearing an ant's head helmet

frame coated with transparent spandex

watching the machinery that rhymes with death

prisons flying an elusive flag.

Some dragon tooth horizon

a cloud of silken layers appearing to swim

but only floating

concrete paths of blonde blood

forging iridescent arks.

The tick's head buried in my ribs,

the knob turning.  Doors churning

from explosions underwater,

surfacing near a head of clay.

Gravestones of neon tarot

a crackle of wires away.

The glass castle seethes

with gaseous pressure.

The sulfur hoses spray

at fluctuating souls.

Paths grow from the basement

of a groaning blueprint

in raw straight lines.

My spirit drifting through the pines

has a club antenna.

This mercury mouth is milking

the seventh firmament's

array of undersides.

The ground rides.

The groundhog halfway down the hill

staring from a rock

hoping I don't notice.

Rivers through the moss descend

the earth is not a clenching hand

he waits until I walk away

to enter his burrow.

Lightning won't find him there

I'll go up on a hill to eat it

and climb the fire past the construct

made by wasteful thoughts

to an unmade castle

where the quiet part gets loud.

In the gaps punched by sacred memory

games of spirits without end

a sand grain mirror.

Webs have been tried

and branches flung from roots

mornings inside out

through bottomless nights

to gut my wrestling angel.

These roads will make a crescent

in their tangle

zones alert for just one healing word

where the unkept swerves.

Fireflies are in my veins

these ponds are fingernails of God

the bones emerge at twilight

and the blood writes

tracks are beaten through the jungle heart

my cells are nursed on metal

rails that run away from conscious sense

and into devouring stratosphere

beggars walk in rows upon the shore

where I unfold paper circles

faces linked by chains of lunar stone

are sent to hovercraft museums

clouds of taffy drip toxic fluff

that sizzles on wooden highways

I'm the carbine of some visionary arm

that's going nowhere.

Dragged across the bubbling universes

by a sleigh of demonic fire

dosed with human meanings

sick from it like a beaten dog

roaming these poisoned hills

in search of duck meat

watching dead fruit

rain from the trees.

Stuck in a pearl frame

forehead filled with ebony fangs

born to drink the sour light

from leaning lamps

along an abandoned highway.

The eye in a ring

atop a furry pyramid floating

souls departed from this world

projecting glossy lines

on all the fish scales of a lost design.

She came out of the ground to drink blood.

She links bodies with a crayon marker.

Sheets of time disrupted

close around her like seductive water.

The lime sky is paused for reflection.

The brown sinkholes open like pores.

Her veins roar.

I am in a screen

scratched by strange fingernails.

I am trying to watch her tail.

The flightless birds are taking off

like smoke.  Gravity's gone.

I am not a mover of pieces or

a moving piece.  She is the buttons

on an artificial cliff I climb.

The mourners and their pistons drive.

A secret nest in the hills

where I get my thrills

in the time of the yellow moon

in the bleary air flowing heavenward

over the mushroom laden fields

across overgrown stone fences

strewn with thorn necklaces

branches lost in the machinery of light

when I was on an iceberg longing

for a shore to crash on

pronged forks knew this would be my fate

the meat of joy I lavished

with my craven spirit

looking for a keyhole in the high rocks

we are the ghosts of western civilization

bones on a diving board

dust drunk on gasoline

evaporating forward