She likes to be licked and painted

from both sides, by two hungry avatars

while the murky ceiling plays Slayer

and rice paddies glisten

in the early evening

she watches through a dollar store telescope

me shining rows of tables

dropping lace from balconies

for me to salvage from threadbare rugs

she's got me in a web of bright

dancing pentagram rays

each beam separate from the alphabet

that once constrained my purple fangs

we are lovers laughing

on a shattered windshield

letting the engine cool

on our sinister spines.

I dream of a blank ride

of lanes that shine too brightly to be seen

deep drawers full of teeth

lines tugging at a gelatinous book

as the automatic nonentities take over

as the sun is kept behind a talking shield

I am still fucking with the soil

sheer as storm flogged hail

whipping memorized skin

skull fortresses of nanoactive clay

can take the future

I'll close car doors on all old selves

who habitually watch the timeline

mistaking costumes for pure spirit

crones enslaved by the earth

bathing my concentric grave

in the milk of a tattooed electron

cloaked by cells of a gyrating angel

whose mercy is slick,

whose hips are touching

the grit of air.

Interests, hobbies, what are those?

I only have passionate obsessions.

I see rings of thinking fire

coming for me and I want

to eat them.

What are the universal laws?

Strip them down for me,

let me ride them to glory.

Make me an example of hell's beauty.

Hang your laundry

on the power lines

outside my painted window.

Show me how the gods love.

Blow the dust from the moon,

see the metallic center.

Build ladders from flesh.

Sort out the irritating diamonds.

These pants can talk.

These elegant silks can move.

Sharks don't conceptualize pleasure.

Money drowns in rivers of itself.

But I, I can kill myself

with my own mind.

You passed and pushed me

into the dominion.

Now I'm stuck to this, a rivet

in their mountain of machinery.

I watch the seams that bust

and inject them with poison.

I glow when I'm supposed to go out.

I slide when I'm supposed to rise like bread.

I go down the hole in the street

where I won't be eaten.

Lanes of light cut through

from your afterworld.

Swirling geograms on the scarred

underside of the sky.

Coins fall from the stars

in meaningless streams.

This is the apocalypse I wanted,

and it slapped my hand away.

I won't take part this time:

the bones and their programming

can no longer hide in flesh.

The song to sing last is a sad song.

Let the audience go, let your

whole outfit burn.

The new world will come

out of the furniture.

An angle hidden in the city map

holds the poise of a granite cat.

We're on opposite sides of the glass

and the glass is gone.

The walls are rising higher than the night.

I cast my serpent hand into enfolding space

the line of lagging voices flagged and snapped

is in my shattered blood

the work of shrines requires endless offerings

doors are painted with a seer's eye

each fisted hand is a cabin of hearts

where the fires of love emit a pleasing stench

to be reported across glass bridges

I'm searching for the cinematic piston

that oils the feline spine

a spoon to fill with the light of wheat

dawn's painfully clear tables

to be lavished with the nightmares of the soul

caught fresh from the alchemist's pool

where fire licks fire

A fragment, falling.

Once I thought

I'd lift the world.

The bottom is beautiful.

The forms of life become

insular and decorate the deep

with their elaborate adaptations.

There is life down here, of a kind.

Glowing with occult blood,

sewn up in seamless lips.

Lava cooled like the blackest honey.

Am I glad to have fallen?

I have fallen.  The gravity

is good for building.

The bough up there in sun

where I hung is gone.

The surface is earlier.

Shells are flower petals

and the pressure is a permanent mistress.

I undress in fermented coils.

Cracking cells instruct me in architecture.

The mud is smoothed by weight.

I turn the hundred prepared pages.

A bubble is the dream of a brick.

A remnant is a cooling wish.

The sea has treasures it can't hide.

I ramble for a burger.

Walking to the empty station

just to wait in the stillness there.

Drinking from the icicles

that have a sour taste.

It seems the heavy engines

have moved away.

The scurrying of squirrels

in dry timber.

Curled leaves cracking

with their every step.

Ghost of my responses,

sit with me here awhile.

Let us stop preparing

and take the breathless ease

of lit horizons through

space or cells, in separate

dwelling bells.

Born brother

to the wind that doesn't know your name,

riding serpentine sidewalks

smelling all the urine of the gods,

the shade of a shouted prayer,

taking the dust mask

through a labyrinth of sacred stone,

born brother

to the flicker of a long and curving pathway,

whipping around the planetoid brain

that is a restless hive

each rafter with its row of nests

the barn where I lurked to thaw

become eternal.

A solitary wheel of ghosts

rolling over clay horizons

carrying tobacco stains

and old notebooks

stalled beside a fallen feather headdress

crunching over animated bones.

The smoke rings around dazzled eyes

architecture of cold mercy

I slump against a cemetery tree

cognisant of the sex of wolves

that roam between sensuous birches

factories gone silent in the background

one cool blinking light of zero

in the nebula heart

watching to be sprung from emptiness

the bulkhead of mysterious form

Piles of smashed diamonds

glittering like frozen rain

zones of poets enchained

in golden vines

grasping at their cloaks

of sensual doom

I passed the embankments

of buried coin and unsealed bottles

dribbling the blood of weary times

through a transparent earth

the lanes of constructed light

scrubbing lines from all my flesh

as I faded into plastic labyrinths

shores of glue drenched denim flowers

sails rippling with cloudy skulls

the frills of an electric blade

the way a watched electron raves

Bolts in the neck of an angel

propped up by violet light

mouth pouring mixed cement

eyes glowing with formaldehyde

ladders of wet activated rubber

leading to a frozen cloud

where liquid canines walk

on a singing platform

jets of fuming water

carrying microbes

of such frenzied joy

the locks are popped by a crafty wind

the sanctum of a certain

world devouring mammal

seeded with sneering tongues.

The drop dead heart of false hopes

run through with poison water

orbs of raw mercury

sinking through the piss

trails of ragged high abandon

blood draped curvature of frost

the kingdom's entrance piled high

with disfigured forms.

You wore out your persona.

The night grew like a sea of things.

Monuments attracted mold and moss.

Revolutions congealed

into suffocating social masks.

The retina of the sun was paranoia.

The remnant of the moon

cursed and howled.

She was a woman of the graveyard

lost in an orgy of bones.

She was my last screw

standing on shattered words.

A trickle of dust spreads

like a feather.

Earth is never silent

but my departed friend

is quiet now.

The roads his feet walked

will not be the same.

The gang is gone.

I see receding into space

a room of empty chairs.

I see them painted on a cliff,

the ones I've loved.  I fell away.

They hovered full of blood

while I dried out.  I left

without a reason to be found.

They are diving off the map

in many directions.  I can't

keep track from this wolf's hill

or that deer's bed

the river's shade digested

one balding eclipse

green path between

the living and the dead.