drum hole electricities of snake
closed mouth buried in wide mouth

shores breaking open from sound
ears more powerful than earth
lice quick in lines
prettier than hair

guitar repetition of curves
nipples broadcast above a keyboard
pianos many miles deep
in forests are old women's bodies,
nude as nothing else is nude,
outstretched wrists the scars
of rejected blades
wings of old women tightening
to blast the jutting pines
with take-off's breath

sky's a drum hole
all skies are being beaten on

bliss between dumpsters spilling
bliss, watching 3 dogs hike
snowbanks laced with output
of filth, snorting the stream
of thin wind through which
the afternoon mail arrives hard
in a hail of extinguished cig butts

bliss pinned down by securities
to concrete, breezes docked
in the ghost paint glow
torch melted plastic round
the hulls of ship instruments
orange peel pathways strum

toilets ripped open to the
split paws of disintegrating
suns travel banana universe
for melting amps valley and canyon
touched descending by walnut
shells crushed open by falling
armored bodies in a haze of sex

unspoiled, pink rectal print outstanding
on the keys of antique organs,
black & white bliss, skins meeting
in the goblet of ice capital,
gluing desks to a diamond skyscraper
mirage, forehead-projected, from a deck chair

of half-spent beach threads,
peach picnic blanket wrapped
around the yellow fortress
of an illegal corpse, trees
fragile as ferns clamoring
silver & gold launderette
with once clapped hands

those who feel themselves dissolving
in the acidic pleasure of life
pacing venereal barber rooms
wearing tar glasses,
in a quiet reign of terror
vulvic mirrors in high
hologrammic escapes
of total whole soul,
supermarket crowds doused
with sadnesses, who went through
the green glass of an old church window
clutching at engine-greased jungle gym
scaffolding all the way quiet white down,
oceanic newspaper in grips

in close outer space
there is a scorched gas station
where a girl waits on the customer side
of the counter with burned cash
in her hand I run the numbering
tagging instruments with neon tinted knuckles
pull fried chicken's wings
out of the speakers on each ear
of the stereo, concrete widens
covering more and more
with coolness in freeway world,
all barriers are made of plastic

police ribbons all adrip with ejaculate
grandma's smoke solitaire living room couch
echoes of our cash register clang
lovemaking paid hour after hour
moss frame pictures in darkest hall
crafted by dim explosives toward puppet dark
of stuffed animal pillow prism land,
our android foreheads a lacework
of quilted rainbow unicorn horns deeply up
the pulse of pure-hearted rectums,

palace of white yellow air
in the barn-stained afternoon,
aunt's face folded deep marked in a book
as the garage melts open
onto melted driveway dead
cat in black and white clitoral pebbles
paving pineneedle streaked with cone rain
toward path magnetized
on the mouth of a basketball hoop
net wobbling like drool
wind diced fragmented by goldenrod blades,
roofs one story above thriving gardens sprinkling
speck minerals into hyacinth throats naked
robot growth face of crooked violent sunflowers.

if the shadow staggers,
there must be a man in it
trying to get back to his love
through the networks of barbecue.
At dusk, he massages its rectum
with a swingset, he pulls
a white cat--fluff
on a pleased skeleton--
out of its mouth.
There are paths along the sides
of nearby rivers that run
much faster than the water.
From them you can look over ferns
like a god of very small things
and watch the sports field turn
into a vortex of too many crayon
colors, grass melting in triangular areas.
On an invisible picnic table
whose presence you're aware of
someone of indeterminate sex is banging
the strings of a guitar
with a long flimsy twig. You are
their hairdo, or a frog, there are
factories turning into dust; workers
are now wanderers, of streets that have
no business. Some former enemy
has been the only one busy,
turning certain bricks
into certain flowers.

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watch from melted city stoop
raccoon double back from
the torn trashbag, eyes
flashing black circles
his body a small packet of energy
mated with tar, wet earth
tin rattling fire escape guns

observe your feet severed
by frisbee's manhole cover,
staring the scamper down
styrofoam alleyway, grey fur
nuclear universe, needlepoint pupils
the raccoon nuzzle reinforcements
towards the multimillion
garage storage cities, blood-drained
humans losing population to raccoons
in their glint moon robber masks,
tiny mutant superheroes
in the burnt driver's seats
of car dump city all over

pregnant silver mound of soil
coons swarm empty swimming pools
of the rich who sent their lobes
frontal through the blades of glass
coffee table while the coons crawled

thousands of wet dice scattered on frozen ponds
series after series, a phallus
skyscraper impaling the last
basketball hoop, two frog kids
heartbroken under the dumb lightning kissing,
trembling junk in its yard soaked kittens
trembling around the struck antenna,
we'll soothe and surge martini-mouthed
under the river oaks, I'll remember
with many fish spines the brains hot
towards the core of your parent's backyard
where you shredded my canoe of mute lips
into wandering cumulous, I wish
were were struck into the air
and the air hard, being hard spat darts
graph charted against the roof of the
unattended planetarium.

cage of knuckles
around bruised flower, eyes
wide enough to inhabit
more than one set of orbs,
clench of cold bodies
in the beam of a warm movie

snakes on the deck bending phrases
whole alphabet of silken scales squirming,
the queue at the cloud's open mouth
calling hellos to friends who perish
together, vertical acres in air
above the pancake breakfast

the town dies, the mayor fucks
the sidewalk, mountain paths
take on tar coats for beer-fed walkers
sizzle of the melted peach in their mouths,
ferment of fresh spring
upon long-dead bodies

syrup staining snow under maples
thick tall ghosts of elms
inhabiting guitar-moved avenues,
white paper skinwrapped
on scorched birches
paper-mache buttcracked,
twin alleys run past the same
black-lit restaurant, plant smoke
on the lips of tired cooks,
french fries inside beckoning
a crowd drunker than Christ,
newspaper machine openmouthed
to the violence of the dawn sun
on tiny corner of wide country.

long-pelted ladies walk upright
out of the swamp, lashes flick
from eyes and wrists, lace together
forming stretchers for my charcoaled brothers
and I to lay down upon,

the sky's new hum, tangerine skins all around
in the moonlight, milky hammers
for pelts to fetch home to the tides
far under the swamp now boiling,
twang in their own caged shadows.
I enjoy the song that the ladies aren't singing

it's coming from a crack in the ground.

Together we have killed the earth,
let us hold hands in hands in hands
around the metallic sparrow,
let us look with carelessness
on the death we have lovingly created,
nip at the scorched tiny wings
with engine teeth. We'll ask each other
if we can still inhabit this local orb
between flagrant supermarkets
and the sound of burning salts,
we'll taste the shell
of the all-containing thing
that crawled far away,
dragging its dark protections
and a portion of our race,
movement of dung skinned soldiers
serving nothingness' sweet advance

universality of sleep, sleep of all species,
the beautiful gun barking lacks of oxygen
for all lovelies breathing

thank you soldier, policeman of our concerned
deadnesses, our state-sanctioned violins,
I hope all my friends die like airless pianos
in the huge grip. Your talons, I speak
world of newest evil, plastic whole
through the half-melted visor of my own.

we ran in drag dresses
from the surging authorities--
ran through time, the public highway,
our mouths outfitted with lemon peel teeth,
you could guess we were laughing--
official screams of anger flickered out
on tar behind our high-heeled evasions

when a servant steps out of place
the circuits of time are not jammed,
gardens brighten in the artificial
aftermath, against the backdrop
of thickening pollutions, that bloom
their own flowers over the freer ways

of birds, swimming above the human epic.
We ran highway centers back to each other,
strangely abandoned this time, no cherry lights
broadcasting hate to the pines,
no voice to run the big computer.
Time winked from our pockets,
we ripped off our dresses and became genders,
and the police were out there, like the stars.

bristling panorama overtake me,
neon'd snowbanks sprout thawed species
for the death spores of modern mail,
two pigeons awkward of footclaw
upon the turntable of black glass,
the slow song of icicles
the red hair churning into a taffy
as she turns her orbs suspended in the world
like a bloody tongue looking for candy
in the rust cartridge of the oldest phone booth
of this rotting lemonade district,
search my lungs with a hammer,
touch down into the recreational areas
with tube nostrils of bacteria overthrow cancer,
sprout from stumps like nuclear salad,
cause my limbs to hang a bundle of black susans
on every one of her doors, neon my surroundings
down to purple dust, let the sellers hawk

organ behind the head is frequently disturbed,
times the fabric self a fraud reported
the ectoplasm of choice for him give it a ghostly glow
to be the consecration visit emergency departments
of the near-death a dazzling exit
the aggressive brilliance of white grave
buildings lining the sea front; and red spots,
long-term functional, cosmetic, soft tissue injury
iridescence of the silvery blue
nectar from the flowers of the host
cool blues have disappeared.

broken basketball courts sprout ferns
nosefaces swim in the hard candy of being
to the streets and sad bones
to the roadlit electrocution
antimatter ultimate,

this is nothing you, elephant belly
on yellow backs of old phone,
salamander dew-flecked
on the hull of a dead soul,

view from your slit
the one hill lump head
of your mailbox holocaust,
slashing hologram throats
while the curtain worlds are all falling
bus stop fences all gasoline fire

the waves of a lake hoisted spiked
into a swimmer with apocalyptic mind
who'd just jacked the soda machine,
left clothes on shore pinned
down by piles of quarters
he'd spent a month asleep
in a tent under the goldenrod
shredded underwear shielding
the sun from his face
while houses turned frail as green tents
he roved the golf course, left spunk
like silver dollars in sand pits
whose smell salted by the moon
reminded his nostrils of girls'
rearmost slits & stars, hopeless
happiness he thrashed backwards
into moss embankments his mouth
shaped like a can of beer,
and feeling like a cash register
then became a pine branch
arcing over the home
of his nemesis, the normal population.

in the orbs around no world
my head buzzing full of flowers
rents each core
to be crushed by its orbit

until the tin on the moon turns
to the glint of a girl's eyes
her machinery draped in green silk
the eyes of her breasts angry
at the orbs, for not orbiting closer

and the eye of her vulva growing
pineal in sucked-out light
departing from the last hotel room
on this crater's curve
where she makes her home small and sharp
and dark on this divorced planet.

WHAT MAKES ICE AGES?

The man who tore out his throat
and was given a new one
the girl who wanted to be made love to
by a deer
the boy who wanted his torso
to turn into a boiled swordfish
the husband of a wisp of smoke
who wanted to turn into a single tear

the many dark brown mouths,
their bright red kisses
and the small orange and pink cat who wanted
to play on the windowsill, and accomplished this

are all gathered here, in the memory-hole left
by a shotgun blast that echoed for centuries
over ceaselessly chiming cash registers.
Their voices rise with happiness
to greet the commands of a song

the song is catchy, the air is catchy
the pulse of blood catchier and catchier
the vision defeated, the reality exultant,
oyster eyes and oyster tongue
and corriders of off-white library android mind,
with no circuitry wound into the spines of the books
that they slam shut again and again
in the absence of a drumset

waiting for the monks to arrive
with cymbals decorated in pubic bush
waiting for the unimpressed to be impressed
to the point of inevitable heart attack
waiting to be entered in every sagging pore
by a computer

waiting for the campfire in a mop bucket
and magnetic sticks that rearrange
the invisible graffiti on a neighborhood's only glacier
waiting for you and me to shut up
and the universes and multiverses
and houses to go on all without us.

PARANOID ORCHESTRION

I'll climb with flies in your radio wires
trying to take the earth back into space
fingers of pine search the radio parties
for a girl in a cube of ice

she'll hang brains on powerlines all round
the quiet neighborhoods, and stare like
watermelons ball back from the paintings
on a nursing home's wall

time will be interrupted by time

blackmouth, unkissed eyelids
seeking the clover of lawn ceilings,
swallowing pills of children's teeth,
pushing the tiny engine through gravity,
two new bodies embrace on an inherited bed,
their fondness an ancient fondness
found among amusing holograms, she faints,
my body takes dictation from
lightpoles in the trembling harbor,

bright legs before the bomb, levels built
where she falls, elevated to floor
after floor, the rugged escapes
of gone movies, all that's left
tinkling in his skeleton is the voice,
frame tinted by patina of passing
half nothings, the hotel's early breakfast
brightening a month of vacuumed
stomach's heat of lungs, legs strung
always in the jeans of last year,
a river's only wagging memory.

soft horns ooze up the straw
and the roof of the world is far away

waterfalls, pink champagne
newborn gourds and the feet of children
beat a trembling path

tiny pebbles from a shingled roof
pray the shell shields the salt all away
from the coils of your body

wild strawberries can't find the mouth
of the king of the snails as he climbs

and the front door of the human house
who cast the garden down is the mouth
of a vast guitar

I watch with all my pores
that man who holds neglected galaxies
in his haunches and eyesight
impart love to the laundromat
and the lobster buffet
from his scorched windowsill
with most of his eyes closed
breezes aimed long at the sail
attaches fangs soft as snail antennae
who needs the local neon to bloom
on his devastation, pink attics
wavering in basement clouds
eggs fresh on the walls he stares
out from a force-field of blue paint smoke
on the limbs of a clicking tree

when the genius submerged in sad days
hammers the streetlights into fireworks
and you wait with a hard-on in the path
of an even-tempered steamroller
dolls with bulging eyes cling to picket
fences on each green side
line up with your spine
a spaceship in gravy

chronologies wither from torched fuel
of unprecedented hours, leaving wall calendars
bare as pure salt

ruthlessly you penetrate
the elastic, daring the endless to end,
taunting universal slingshots
to send you past all freezing peers
hoping someone will kiss your faint zones
the way forward, where insight emerged
from world airport blackout

in the last days of the fishermen
I'll take you by force to the froth of the tides
there will be a new kind of light in the sky
replica seagulls calling in a narrow canyon
waiting rooms of styrofoam filled
with coffee & cream lights, the barber's chair
tilted against a melting brick wall

in the last days of the fishermen
rain will be collecting in gleaming new plastics
our little dog will cry out on a chunk
of drifting lawn, oil will spurt
from the new earth in all the places
where it has not been wounded

and a chicken will croak
from the crest of a mailbox:
you have eaten your life by hours
you have watched it blend into the faint windowshades
railing with fists in rags
on the last days of the fishermen.

cloud ropes tied your wrists
to a fence long as neighborhood,
jittering under the ghost of pterodactyl

kissing the tied wrists of another,
you put on black lump lipstick
with a bruised palm, waiting for lawnmower
to clear shaded terrain
for blades of orgasm

panting under the icicles extended
from the dangle of a weeping willow
skipping seasons to be near
the brown velvet bondage
of certain dopplegangers

swearing he hates this world
and every cell in it, he half collapses
in front of a woodpile, fingertips
coated with gelatin kerosene,
she drags his twice her size away
by fraying shoes from white cigarette lighters
sinking in black mud

the cool of her blaze is kept
under pink silk
sex pyjamas, old rope clotheslines
keep copies of the same, flapping
in a breeze from ancient childhoods

175 MARLBORO ST

whole days with Greg on the porch jutting from all seasons
of the attic, lungs and guts
filled with the songs of terrible birds

fuck perfection, myth, and all
those many other things we don't need
that float constantly around us

younger in spirit each day
feeling both brilliant & stupid
as the town clock falls from the local sky
and crashes through the laundromat,

whole chains in mid-air above monotone autos
flowering neon yellow
pressing through the dark matter of every month

discoursing on the pleasures, watching the luckiest
animals go by, girls swapping precious objects
from pocket to pocket, staggering past the pancake breakfast
for men with thick frozen eyes,
fishscales buried in the lacework of the ceilings,

gold stains on the belly of the ship's floor,
house wagging its 3 stories

until the police fall screaming out of their helicopters,
colors fall short
buds clench and fail
in hard white
circles of spreading light.

lacework of naked trees
open in patches upon the harbor poles
staring with a battery in each hand
eyes aflame with nuclear day

two pigeons harass each other
on a block of stone:
the laser strung between foreheads,
statues blind in living rain
subway mouths with hot cartoon breath
urinals open to the pulsing world,

if there is a peace it settles only
in the belly of a large savage thing,
black branches sunlit-hinted grey
stacks of cubed human mind
up to the belly of the full moon

PIERCE

a thousand domestic dogs
run on the island
where domestic men
once upon a time paid for raw sex
clenched on brush-wrapped trees
or oceanside rocks
there is a loneliness towards death
in the wind upon paths
that will wind into the unceasing

flowers of white lace
darkened by car exhaust
brush against chainlink
next to the sewage plant
the eyes of the dogs are looking
at me in ancient longing
a gaze too strong for the sight
of a short lifetime

INSECT PRIDE OF ELECTRIC BELT

raw-looking areas and rainbow flowers inject electrical injuries
and reams of silk and satins with little heavy traffic
slipped between rocks to the bottom crackling with an energy
so large that their centers become hollow and fluid-filled areas
as media extends the astral into a ballroom,
silky gloves shaped by a garden
without food or shelter, finally made
into the forest of kelp ethereal

brown glass eyes, a closed mouth recorded
how he wandered the street
tarred roof, ray beams
young heart is more sensitive to hue,
yellow mist body is unmarked,
sagebrush and saltbrush spread ruin of potholes and bad patches,
both bear purple flowers twigs and tiny green into the fry tank

city gas lights on country lanes
forests numbed in finecut squares
bodies like scrotums in cold rain
numb nerves at scorched top ends of telephone
smoke winding faces of anxious dogs
under the long porch in red twilight
I keep our piss valentines
pinched filters neon espresso
river current through fern mazes hanging on
grandmother arms snake young-waisted screaming
to be let down from the air
cubbyholes stuffed tight with pennies and socks
four cylinders of pure craft
eating its way through fog xerox
heart batting under mute lashes
the curtain of certain futures rippling
voices in bark
blades on the climber's handle
banked on a thundering cloud disc
black snow beams roving sheepskin hills
snouts in the rice trough
hindquarters surrendered to a half moon

when the numbers drip upward on newspaper
chattering kids are there with charcoal
pressed to thin chests
sculpted ribs under the fur for an arrowblade
crushed czars talking over dissected chessboards
marble fingers in useless poise
averages laid out in grids on cubed flesh
breeders on parade in birch masks
flogging the heretics of the body
with electronic weapons
unholstered from plutonium pocket forests
the hidden animals fungating
a glacier that resembles their footpaws
replacing all landscape
missile houses fleeing planet to planet
through the spreading saucers of weather report

I'm deep in the guts of a huge building,
working deliberately with a series of hoses,
readying my one golden helmet
to wear as I pleasure you
orally if I can find you

lamps and clocks outside tall windows
tell me it will be too long until
again and again with black and brown hammers
they convince me I can't remember
what I'm waiting for with my mop my headphones
and yellow bucket of polluting suds

paths of tar paths of dirt
stretch from most intimate palm-lines
toward powerfully inconvenient stores
they are staring so long I forget
that I am also staring

NOMADS CONTROLLING THE NEW UTOPIA

And plain blue murder follows deceit against the crankshaft
in psychedelic colors, rigged organism dedicated to squalor,
checked for backlash, blind baby cuckoo naked, out; the fish
are so impressed by touching their wife or girlfriend's pudenda
animal births may take place with control of the air leak,
and a splash of scarlet beneath a spotted shell marks the wrecks
and the smell is foul in the vast sea of humanity,
and eerie forms of life operate out of such stations,
freed from the deforming orbit of Mars
and with different values for the eccentricity
from all parts of the earth. The idea was a good one.
A robot parade helping the body heal itself;
therapeutic dirt and electric belts played the dulcimer, trumpet,
bagpipe, guitar, oboe, and flute, half naked ever,

When an open globe is the surgical fountain of youth and drums
a labyrinth of benches and painters, poets and novelists
have come from the sea. Society collapsed, an ocelot on a leash
tumbled into oblivion severed by a breath
under which the ruins of the night would pass
into vibrating circles of thick, quick-drying saliva
a mass of frog's eggs with piercing blue eyes
that the new planet moved only like a puppy.

THROAT: ANTISHOCK GARMENT AND POND PIANO

heart; heart
of shock in children
pain on the el
because of a larger body

labor, with dizziness
our fingers against failure
to wake the center by the same door
withstands interrupted

the door and a video-electronic entry of evil
a flower garlanded around the mouth
hell time with egg-lay
ribbons of paved road I will eat the lizards

PROMISE

dreaming of force
you'll be so gentle and beautiful
that no one will be able to murder you.

of a dream so large and heavy
it will push all attackers aside
a dark vivid brush to pave
the contests in fake vermilion

and a half-empty skull
to take in harmlessly the enemy's fist
or to wrap you in comfort
up there with sad wings
island crystal in the crush of spontaneous night

snailbird, scarred gears
in a bucket under the body

scarred gears moving again

scarved deeds, for the inadequacies
between bodies always

you cover whole highways in salt
with your small refusal
slashed by town lights,
becalmed by big enough moons.

HOW IT WAS BROKEN FOR ITS PORTRAIT AMONG THE SLICKS

bright years had turned strongly colored to conquer Mars
spirits supposedly cloned themselves fleshpots,
animal equivalents in detached houses,
white tigers of the lunar highlands
brightened with desire, each cell receiving twinkling light
funneling into its center, where plans
for war dry the grass to the radio, and occur
between the tongue magnets,
shoot up to a height out-of-body
enlarge dark reddish, disrupted where it is attached

surface is torn trillions
gills working rubber loops that allow
a bitter, angry thing as an image of the future
green-blue hole in the mud

spindle is inserted into the thigh and moving
rubber of the wall that protects
a cold that ends in death like an allergic river entering the sea

THUNDERSTONE RACEWAY

for Leslie Dorcus

A powerful light is scarring at the icebergs
during contraction, shutting off developements
of the comforts you crave that air currents resolutely oppose
with ragged edges, curved rays or plush cities
along the arc of jewel-like islands
spurts of white-hot dark space, a tunnel, and razzle-dazzle

shifts the darkness of the unknown against
the general current of events, into bright
morning-gold of the most desolate place on earth,
ultrarespectable rebelling slaves
thrive on shadowed rocks in the bounds of etiquette
dancing, singing, or scrambling a clockwork mechanism in the doll
working a system of double shifts beneath the light
of crystal chandeliers

she holds them to blood in gold
and silver ingots, kills her sisters
quickly scattering blue army wagons,
under a mass of information cloaked by smog, and deafened
by days in a queen cell office surrounded by tall pines
nonsense songs flying faster beneath the ribs

sperm shot in vacant kitchens
arcs over ice cream
scoops melting in white china
windows halfway open to the flicker
of an autumn rain red leaves dancing
in the ocean's throat wet towels tied
around faint whimpering necks
brown light shine
through every chimneysmoke crack

every crying mouth the punched side
of de-seeded green olive, steaming guts
stacked knives of broken ceramic,
her sunglasses bouncing off the shivering
window over and over, mouth pursed to eject
keyrings in smoke, offering access
to a pregnant maid braced legs
star furred in the channel
of all conditioned air, bloodshot sight
snapping at the hard boiled eggs
in a roaring refrigerator bed,
teary-eyed sailors unloading
crate after crate of boiled milk
in holographic stacks,

every room's chafed ceiling
quartz boulders raining.

THE POWER OF ELASTIC LIGHTS IN A VANISHED CAGE

He runs this anatomy silently through space,
attracted to those that are something more
whose jaws and pretty mouths piping light
fuse with the sacs on one side of cold planets
as a floating leaf or heater tube of its other fruit
screaming with fear in dazzling light,

the lizard at the rear of the eye
feels himself drifting through a shrunken, dark,
burned out cinder, the machine can hit him
through the exit gates, trimmed in silver,
tiny spaces roar
to travelers of meteorite after meteorite:

leather trunks, slaves, and remains of light,
supersmart egg left a scarred landscape,
machines will look directly at the beauty
and splash their warm limbs in our cold climate.

BURNT HARBOR

watch the teeth of unknown geniuses fall out
one by one in fast motion,
clutch at every failing light
sails on long rotten boards
inhale pure death and breathe it back out
like nothing's ever happened

holographic tunnels converge on the believer
beaver fences keep brown water
at the level of knees,
moon stinks of radiated metal creep
nudging into joints, multiply new hinges
bodies upon body unfolding toward
expanding gravities
kisses complicated by frantic technologies

squirrels and pigeons, skunks of melted color
congregating on false lawns
long foreign blades habituate
violent ultragreen out of the astroturf

hosts boasting empty cascading rooms
putting lipstick on lipstick powder upon powder
to sail on the back of an annihilating knife across
an endless desk
to be one's own secretary, keeper
of volcanic flame
only a polite cough greeting the teeming surface
stomach and lungs whole basements of mutant energy

in the leafscratch of a possum
feel the fear of four tires

smoking a turkish cigarette, with your tits
jutting out, it's going to be one lunar life,
the birch peels past my knees
and above my frame, I'm looking for the sleaziest
churchpeople in town, a bald woman
dragging her life in white plastic,
the pizza place shrouded in blood-colored smoke. Let's

watch the meteor shower decend over the crown
of our blind friend, overreaching on a belt
of travelling magnets,

pregnancy in a moss-inhabited
baseball dugout, staring far past the closing hours
of a gas station to be
whisked by a star-dipper, megaphones in each ear,
closing car doors on the vestigial tail
of each escaping essence, thumps and red leaves
nestled deep in the stereo's shredded wall
of speakers, stop on an ember
going black to grey
for the skyward pull of a series
of flywing yellow lights, sewage treatments
melting paths into the golden side of a hill,
all tailsparks dancing vapors
of a withdrawn bay.

RADIO WAIFS BIND THE BONE

as I came aboard engines on every emergency
from the central core colored in green
water-shedding wild choruses of toad
the center of that center was a diamond wheel:
awe of the living molded horse and its hummingbird
fish loins flower to flower,
no visible wreck of endless tides

shifting pebbles sprout systems
of bright life energy. After cells fire uncontrol
up new rail of the wall hole
all that remains of a blazing valley
must resist and therefore, larger, harder teeth
oral groove rotting meat (see light-colored debris
blast upper screen

lawless quakes, heavy mutations,
all visible in the distance--no guardian octopus

A GLAND FOR LUBRICATING THE GULF'S GENERATOR

Few men ever experience the outside edge of the sudden muteness
lovely, deep telescopic domestic water
with a film over the eye with a lobster on a leash;
thrown out to a machined recess around the entrances to the house,
recycled by inanimate land, legs cold; breasts swollen
fearful of being captured with rueful, humoristic precision,
with a darkened face waving dolls
and back through a mind with electric sensation

around this island heart warriors form once again,
arise from faulty cleft on the center, stand out
against the cool iron grille at the corner of slaughter

their mouthpieces are perfect fine-honed contempt
that only a poor young girl walks over
ornaments of animals in the cosmic winter
graphic tongue made with visible light.
High-arched, V-shaped silken nests that they defend
all get close together inside,
long, silky eyelashes produce clicking sounds
when drug and youth gangs pulse close to this point
grooves must be gorillas at them, absorbing fogs come in
and slip over its global paths and wanderings

a broomstick will become spinach, eggplant,
the tip of the thrust of the tongue to push
across hundreds of light-years, crease is found
as it is unfolded and its song disappeared
drawing body from the crank with your head to the south vinegars
used in the upper part gaze across these cosmic clouds
hanging himself in the powerful anterior allows
smoking or the playing of radios, for

from the airborne part
within the ring of its music the bird was alive,
it sluggishly opened atoms in blue.

THE WHOLE BLOOD BEDROCK OF GOLDEN DREAMS

I sat with my beer, looked up stone stairway in the dark,
and saw twirling around that dark spiral
the robot spirit adding machine motor of city
lit from all sides by gold sprinkled dazzling armies
of the vast canyon rose velvet rough patches and scar tissue
sagged in wet arks of beauty who had sailed the future goo
in a nation of eaters, gentle hills that arch
at the center of fashion, how brother sang a song,
leading a shipload of small, bright regions rubies
and emeralds flash electric stimulus
to the peaceful and bureaucratic artists and writers
avid for metals as a base from which they pursued
a part of the hindbrain, but banners and tapestries
whitewashed a heap of stones
as in several eyes ear river reach out

she would produce a son of the sunspots
to add lilt to her smile; to replace the lost earth,
and coincide with the opening of the rectum and a region
of the brain, thin winds of that huge, delicate vault
grew, lifting the experiments

a rock he carried had a small hotel attached
its metal clasps tarnished with light-bridges rising
accordion-fold and fish-rich river: its leather back
scuffed and below the distant lip
a safer puncture gleaming white field twilight,
sunlight vistas of sparkling lava-cap
just before the candles were clusters of grapes
on the speckle of lights around paired spinal nerves
are hundreds of bubbling granules, each a suit of silver cloth
chamber of the guillotine folded in upon themselves
some robot had to do it

THE PROFESSIONAL WATERING PLACE OF SPECIAL DAYS

for Steve Lindsey

Sponge fishermen move up on those walls
into the cracks, into the past--
indicate money, two hearts to be naked, or in full uniform
to empty all their pockets on an infrastructure
thrown into their centers, being expelled by the young
to the deck line, black wings skitter
on a marble slab under a brighter blue
dancing fountains and water
the wall comes out of the mouth.

You look down at yourself at an iceberg
with tears from the inability to speak;
ice, rainbow, steam, frost, small windows high
to the solar wind, an artificial arm, white eyes
eggs and sperm are melting into shapes of the plant world,
calves, horses, sheep and spherical raindrops
that fill the sky to modern living.

Needles inserted into children; melancholy third mind
or the nude made of tin, the predators roared
all the way to the volcanic chambers,
a doll holding the journey of a drop down to the buttocks
while fanning herself with worse, you speak
there was no universe
the world and sweating
clock is still striking air.

I PERCEIVE SILENT TWINS OF OUR GALAXY

Time could carve a reservoir of mind matter
while you make love, white stone gaze to construct
this view this force
wipe out the record of the world's modern wrecks
and heaps of light--the glowing hundreds
of tendon-like strands--and find nothing.

The reservoir contracts, and so may the fossil
which appeared inside the lid of a heavy airplane
with an entirely different torso; years in the cold and gloom
following the threads of galactic summer,
up the exit tube beats were drummed in time
to a red-glowing naked open cluster
of adaptive radiation.

I stuck an arm elbow-deep in a sunflower's head, the shape
of mouth-breathing temperature all over the house
mingled with ears of crystalline formation,
spicy sauces, and wine blue reflected with destruction
by secret penetrations of all elective mutes.

star white ocean's telephone
is cradled nowhere tonight
whips cloth roof for droplets
to go deep in the mouth

rubber feet engage metal stairways
fire pillows cushion razor clusters
eyes gone pink through brick
receding galaxies, backyard gardens
a thousand palms on one hand
a staring cabbage, the farthest
of an echo

the sky pours laughter over and over
organs blink on and off in the net
the wildest creatures are lit up first and last
long eyes melt their helmets

three separate infrared bands on the horizon and the lights
cold eyed infant is poised
clinging to the rims of a celestial whirlpool
in the circle of ancient stones

II

swallowers)
button eye and green
mask, touched by sunlight.

open tubes.
to be a hybrid
between
delicate weather,
but the color will repeat

LOVE POEM #22: SOLID ORGANS OF THE HOME

aroused as the face was struck
by substance that conceals with the tongue
and listen to the iridescent glow
secure in the shadows meiosis,
to find mirrors covered over with cloth

dwarf, a neutron housewife
in the room where someone has died
the dark molecular cloud, rough
so that they face a door for they will allow
the chromosomes relax
into their two naked-eye comets

pulsar/white
impossible to light a fire that may be scanned
to the next major galaxy the ritual of touching
robotic exploration of light.

THE GOLDEN MILLIONS AT WAR IN TWO REALMS

Go back with power locked deep beneath the crust,
with melancholia in the jumble of innards
to start a frigid march across the concrete freeway
raising fish and oysters shoulder and spine and loins,
gilded boars' heads, plastic-wrapped cubes,
joined together in clusters a tank for protection,
leather dangling behind little whirlpools
overeating spicy foods, bones buried in their sleek sides.

The forelimbs rip up cement floors,
slip and nick the back of his own tongue,
paper and glass, beer cans, midair dismemberment
a wheel in the ocean she sailed on without him
the body and the vampire's colored velvet curtains
bullet-torn, but several seas combined all the nuclear bombs
cereal boxes, splintered cells are bathed in liquid,
girls could go almost anywhere, merely opted
for a new life of the rectum
visited by spectres from the fisherman's world
grinding the diamond into archaic documents
their art-laden craft a thick, black trail of the recent dead,
electrically shielded room torn by wild fluid of a human body,
moods shape our moods
its banks and its bottom

GIFTS FROM THE HORSEPOWER MAGNET BLACKOUT TREATMENT

Now we come to the epoch, stamped in red
on the back of the neck,
two thousand costumes wield complete power
from a blue filter to a crooked screen of sex
when the different parts of the body are molded,
aching aura of sounds, with large paperweight eyes,
all their clothes in plastic bags,
arms from the brushes, the energy of sugar,
swarming from darkened day they strike the water
escape the intellectual shadow
slowly turn into fishes in the new structure
and turn into birds water-clocks and entrails
a giant heap of alien metal twenty girls are busy melting

The fringes are a silver death's living blanket
on the distance of the moon, insect broadcasts
and vacuum chambers, a small wax-covered wheel
in a steel vat of broth, maggots revolving a stone door.

During this quarantine, the spring should rise slightly
when the points of light turn corners, grinding wet
the two slits in our fitted suits of steel,
the harsh fate of these probes,
and the intermediary messenger
taking place in the halo as the galaxy itself
with rudimentary hind limbs.

LOVE POEM #21

The two worlds are huge gasbags,
the outer boundary and its living envelope
in the five solid organs
every person carries a map
with visible threats, in the spheres
of the planets, which fitted into
the outer corner of the ring finger,
30,000 times without pause
virtually tireless.

--such love, I might fly out all windows
at once, stun multiplied selves into scattering--

if it seems to leave me in a cold star
it is always moving tides
both inward & outward,
the frontal openings, the rearmost lobe,
it is moving the showerstall white walls
gurgling micro-life under the docks,
masturbating the left wall
masturbating the right wall
moving the showerhead
and long fluorescent bulbs
down through the central throats
a million wet ducts opening
in unfathomed stretches of lawn,
mysterious goldenrod, warped black susans,
masturbating the sides of a barn
in basketball hoop sunlight,
while the world shakes to be with them,
to be a red ray of care
from another planet, to pray
all other dimensions into this one,
masturbating the full black of space's heart,
going under the electrostatic tide-waves

--the lights are not alive, but love,
look at the lights--

to clench salt in the mouth like a diamond,
to work up through a furry throat
to view corrosive frontiers, to be
totally an alien, glimpsed over and over
through a roving windscreen, hung with robes
that shine the belly of the three thousand,
the comfortable millions
perched on bleachers in grey blankets
sacrificing their faces to cloud-beams,
masturbating a high green, near silence
until you fall under the elms
with a face like a coin-plate
watching the graveyards go by
like armored cars, letting the candles rain
with wicks dancing on marble dashes,
instrument panels lipstick-printed,
with furs in the damp corners, chandeliers
displaying row over row of human faces
with stretched gazes, if it seems
to leave me in a cold star it is held
two pockets of sand in the face-cheeks,
parched unit
dribbling, until the shadows smoking
in cliffs of moss shingle
come down to fuck me one at a time
and leave me peaceful behind the waterfall.

colored hill spreads
an ocean of sand
raked into frozen
bushes, interspersed
enchanting form or the disjointed
out over the plain

raw desert, man is seldom
the horizon, no farm or wind
catch land. The feeling is intensified
by the littlest sound--the faint
dry scrub, the whisper
nowhere

the desert reveals the arrival

tight band of energy around upper forehead,
belt of pulsars making ribs clack
together tides lap upward on a woman's body
everything is wall upon wall of young leaves,
cranes lifting and releasing, the activity
of the harbor, limbs begging
with enwrapment, two strung mammals
among the muscle of a bluefish school.

all over the salted city mops move
on linoleum sidewalk
shadowed people among gothic architecture
depositing and receiving
cash on stigmata palms
waiting for stitched enumeration,

waiting for liberty to come like a junebug
scuttling out of a slicked anus, the future's scarlet
angels on accelerated parade,
all tides filled with floating machinery,
ticking in seaweed caress,
rocking rocking

dreams have a clock, to follow
themselves around, we must escape
our dreams, we must dream new dreams,
we must be poles convergent
with one another, kissing glacial
stamina out of the stopped rocks.

ORGAN MISTRESS for Olivia

pipe organ mistress, dangling sounds
don't touch you, as you soar on the lifts
of powerful factories

lit red black dress going up
to the mineral deposits of foreign moons
with a smile of all time
quivering on bodied lips,
as mailboxes snail out of the daylight

these are the days when the piping of the organ
will lift you over the clotheslines
in short wafting hops, tracing fingers
along the rims of chimney mouths,
telling your form to each cumulous

surrender to sea & smoke,
lobster cages drying on a dock,
clouds moving in counter-currents,
sun on every burst pore
crabs stumbling into sunlight
from under beachfront woodpiles
let your lips take on a dirty look
become an invader in the shops,
let neckties brush you lovingly,
ash sprinkle all panoply of dashboards,
earth a clothes-closet, until
you collapse in a mist on the pavement,
low tides of fire
carrying the pigeons and penguins away

there will be a kind of dignity in being
hammered by the years, oilslicks
dribbling down the long hills,
glazing leaves as they pass
into fluorescent centers, where men
trade uneasy glances with one another,
wondering who witnessed the murder, eyes
that danced only
in heavy shadow.

the vast power of trees
strikes you in the back
of your lipstick line
the flaming half of a skull
smashed apart by raging
molecules, taught to be
as a star burns

unaware, the throat of a gull
opens fish belly's
ointment store of oil
all is bisected and trisexed
no question
at the disintegration's beam-end

intricate flowers bow heads
down like dogs in rain
you are carving your naked way
through goldenrod with a kindling sword
the pine trunk tent red wine
dark, mouths enveloping navels, memory
the flashlight jammed up your rectum
quick thoughts of other planets
erupting peace,

overflown streetlights
superimposed elms
diamondshaped signs,
dark green bushes I'd like
to lop blackberry icecream dark as shadow
on each of your tits
watch you scrape the underneck
closest to magnet
sea level, with your silver-tipped
claws, thorns on our hard labia

milk brow telling it all in ache
to your mutest mouth
orange peel interior lips, blue-singed
my five-fingered surroundings
buried in each knuckle
up to jellyroll
struggling free here in the best
heart of the hologram.

run out on electrical wires in an attractive area,
you deserve all the pleasures broken of hedges, front
lawns scared to sleep, universes turning red
at a stumble, a throat sticking to the white air.
saxophoned
cliff ledges faces turned to the eaten
belly of the moon
smoke street cigarette stubs
to dig up the center of the earth
madness is contagious in slight glances

the headpiece shines like wax
at the tail, you are a unit
of purifying force,
petrified atmospheres in cobalt blue & green
jelly deeps

there's one more thing I have to kill
then I'm rollercoaster
over the solar system
the golf course kissed with blood
one more dry morning on fire
the windowpane scratching I'll build
a twig bridge from me to your forehead

all kills and births take place here
in this gleaming
they're bringing a big pizza
over the neighborhood hills your lover
has the least shiver of a face today
your robin breasts are
going over a glass wall

sodomize your equal in medium rain
I'm coming over the state pen
doughnut rolls plastered to the labial wall
papered tent skin screaming through drunk
in electromagnetic belches

brown smoke and black
disembodied gateways
agent
patting a force-field of bare cymbals
your beautiful wide intelligent

scatter these half-lives, melt them
down beneath their shadows, let daisies
morph their careless selves intact
through the metal life of a machete

two dachsunds penetrate in turns
their unminding mother, drag
their diseased thin pricks
on a street, investigate the scum
on gummy sidewalks in front
of the laundromat.

Now sleep is irrelevant, I like
their movements, darting life better
than human information, can't catch
their runny eyes in the blade
of a mailbox flag, return this life
to the scrapheap, let it angrily
put roots through a skyscraping mass
of attacked automobiles.

Two dachsunds walk through
the washing cycle, become my eyes
in a fever dimension. They are such
pretty black sausages
roaming under a parade
of slicked rainchairs,
stormclouds shot with pink sun

flicking nuclear misery
at hairlines of outsexed coincounting
readers of tiny politics, I heft
the bronze of my lover's strange purse
while she sleeps, turn my own penis
into an antelope, the dachsunds
aren't my feelers
I'm the severed arm under a newspaper.

Orgasm all day, watch her in red shawls
naked at the navel and shins, also
the eyes and nosebone, red butterfly
larvae in the glint of all pupil, perched
on wood slightly older than she
at an organ of lit keys, chirping droning
to the powerline click
of a drum machine climbing
the cliffs of invaded memory.

branch sways forth above elongated head
eyes pistil out into human air
for touching, animals fill the laundromat
to maim or orgasm, sniffing dog blankets,
turning prismatic lenses on long stalks
to intergalactic features
of horizon

as loved killers re-penetrate tamed,
fixed civilizations, eyes sway
on the ends of instrument antennae
stomachs levitate to inhabit
cavern hearts
two sliced watermelon flowers
ooze birth
to a light shower of sperm

billions believing in nightmare selves
gun barrels sliding forth a thousand
sighing throats, flower stalks
nudging pothole fringes in hotel parking lots,

the main road a litter of salamander corpses,
their orange fading burnt, sun unprotected
from its own venom of existence
lamb life and lamb meat
in winds of ancient life

green pods hopping brighter and brighter
on magnetized tongues
myriad deep
kissing on the shanks of fallen monument
light toasted hands
gripping dark toasted currency
innocence alive behind supermarket glass
carrying no ticket, ascending
radiant blue butterfly
superimposed
on a tide-surge of maggots

slowly with paws turned inward
you chipped away at all things
with your beauty until buildings
curved in the guide of your movements
and finally all living things
wanted to be in your presence
a blade in the head
fur takes the eyes and the aftermath
slowly with paws inward
eyes bigger than scope
a huge blade in the head
you walked your smaller creatures
down the salt dock over and over
eyes eaten by what they see constantly
you come to be viewed
in the presence of no beholder.

drain
hydrate thought screen
orbs blooming in air on each side
bridge rattled by sunset energy

I watch freedom grow in its peaceful
moments, and think, now we're
really getting somewhere but the youngest
man I ever met whispered gently, humorously,
charmingly into my ear: just remember you're
always watching a funeral party
get suckerfeet and suckerhands
up into the sky corners
something colorless invisible old
is stirring nowhere at all

drink
oilships in the eyes of a good kisser
receding tracers tagged with blood
moth wings scoop after scoop

and many bridges saying
something gorgeous has passed under
something worthy of intake has crossed these waters
assaults on bare space should and will continue
something certain has vacuumed all overhead

the violence of trees and rain,
raw district drawn out
in universal color, front doorway
of the electronic soul, a new brain,
interplanetary imaginings, layer upon layer
tapped relentlessly in to the mechanism,
phallic ultra tip of the prime mover

a flood-tide of raccoon bodies
and lonely against it with a mop
watching the jelly of outer space
tense janitor in love with escaping,

his torso is part of a bridge
connecting states, ribs incoherent
reef's ridge at the belly
of the finger's touch, a black hole blooming.

we move as a couple-unit
through waiting rooms, jails,
swift bodies of the unknown,
we wipe numbers from the doors
of rooms we enter in our sleep,

suddenly we're walking to breakfast
through a long solid tunnel,

this subway cherishes its own bricks,
the love of motion, love of coal
histories, lipstick on bathroom doors,
low money in eroding corners, this

time-burst doesn't discover, it is outside,
it is not intimate lasers, it isn't required
to turn into plastic, this radio shrieking
is all my body can carry.

hornets on force-fields of wet lips
tickling the nerves of a close sun
light on the belly light on the stone
of a death in marble

twin dogs in sunlight on tar
twin dogs at the base of mailbox
licking a shovel together
twin nostrils on straws
black susans trampled in mud
hornets stomped in machine dance
proud electrical displays
in assaulted airport; the twin
on its hard nerves, tugging a kiosk hologram
with him in silver helm, eyes flecked
with asbestos, lips septum scorched twice
to match flares with the belly of a sun,

don't you ever lay down on the earth
to be healed, mush your tongue
on scattered maples. Propellers in velvet
sashes, disease crawling over the trunk
mantle the jug full of pulped grapes
a white cat crawling down the silent air
from a fluorescent light, eye of an alien ship

lipstick-blind, dashed by pennies
a shallow drainwalk

SIRLOIN DISTRICT

fruit-meat, saddled with ashes,
where do you go to droop
your velvet antlers,
where do you go to droop
your head on the woodpile,
we can get away with anything,
where do you go to bury
your leavings, where do you go
to dump your blood on this earth,

you were travelling, in a song, in a song
with backgrounds slipping
down the walls of interterrestrial time,
wallpaper of eyelashes, beloved,
stung by yellowjackets
in the horror of a light rain,
touch the beauty eat it out of the air,
to your right side the sea,
to your left side the sea,
letting the death ahead in vapor
blend into the movie,
blend crimson into the mirror,
the element of randomness
in a human face, the element
of strangeness toward all being,
the eyes a closed cabinet,
the eyes whole tunnels between rivers,
going blind to feel the all-seeing

back-fields, scarred in velvet places
dogs multiplying in a hypersecond
swingsets necklaced by beads of stunning viscera
eel meat on rye, government of flour
goldenrods take the corners
bright arms through chainlink
scythe caught in upper branches
yellowjackets swim above diaper pile
pathways stained with oil
sandbox full of bullet shells
brighter than all stars

perfect fallen skyscaper
boosts from orgasmic foundation
radio tower festooned with lacy underwear
penetrated forests, eternally unknown ghost species
the lovers speak, whole libraries of energy

BRIGHT OTHER

tiny pink spiders crawl thick green blades
headpiece stacked and laced
with white straw in the afterworld
are they babies are they about to die

I itch all day stopsign
buried up to its metal neck
in the corner of a high lawn
the one word staring tiny pink spiders
crawl from death to growth
their tiny noticing not much difference

scaffoldings of digital multi-fuck
and chihuahua paw irritates the mustache
the upper lip doesn't care about the lower lip
little legs going nowhere for everywhere
headpiece knuckled and bubbled
scissors invisible between limbs

if the right hand doesn't care about the left hand
the eyes behind fingernails will watch
tiny pink spiders think big
thoughts of devouring in the belly
of their hour on faint legs I
welcome them onto my belly hairs

let poison bite fiber and follicle
never reaching flesh flowers
have black hearts near around us
yellow petals long in the air
interrupt telephone wires all
erupt from their mother's egg back
and the earth has a magnet heart

calling headpiece down to rot in its rest

moths gathering on a steakknife
lonely hands in an energy porthole
twin moons that turn around an invisible bird
dead friend head against artificial heater
woken by backward time to prowl in drunk hours
the porch chopped to bits on the roof
fridge light damp on erections
electrical extension cord chesthairs
holographic muscle fiber
the word LOVE scrawled wide on a windshield

that one grows, until his forehead
is a vista of meaning. His dashboard
becomes a part of it, then his eyes
are imprinted with a historical map
of the sun. This unhealthy mammal
bribed the best of public men to rip
the cloth from his eyeless torso
in universal public. He can't stop
the orange trees from growing, or turn
gasoline to water.

That man would rather be a woman of his own
construction, a steakhouse mirror, a champion
of imaginary sports arenas, gleaning
ancient televisions from a belched wind
of statistics. He has wings now
that are different from what he imagined,
from what can be imagined.

little ramps of side-road
descend from monolith funnel
ruthless highway churning
cartilege & bone to marrow stew

dogs in a backseat grin drool
while the shocks groan on
orifices of pressed tar
damaged automatic doors shift
paws split where feet don't
go scampering where feet open

little cries to be fetched
muffled inward monkey
come from woefully
overcomplicated mammal
weather control is clicked apart
machine shell gasps to force
walls outward that are inbuilt
the yearning skull holds two dogs

LUXURY METAL

noise princesses on a firm ledge:
volcanic fire far beneath turning
fitfully to a pond of large mirror.
They take their vaginal intellectual names
down a radio antennae

lubricating the windless small center
with casual outcries. Shells of ant
sun-roasted on a painted runway
stirred by escaped air conditioning.
Kisses print the tunnel's sides
with evaporating tear gas

banished medics reconfigure traffic accident
to look like an advertisement party
this is my core crying out
through many faraway things

SNIGGLETOOTH

the floating water casts out birds
windshield painted in ragged light
telephone dead on the backseat, bark crawling
numb kidneys

bridges chime aging in rust
tar is filled with washed pebbles ashore
tires jump, sole flip in the air,
the agonies in little side mirrors

a rain pile of ribcages

and so much white clamor in traffic
bulb orange shaving the gentle nimbus
soft from every real light
between highway lines
radiant from the edge:
two cyclop virgins
staring.

VACUUM

Paraded in vulva sweaters
two sour green cheek wearers
proceed through the faint pink
airliner doorway, treadmills stalled
breasts lashing electric light
burst slackened veins,
the mountain signing off
through a trainmouth.

We have a mechanically achieving
champion, wearing our tits with a rash
for the storms on fire
in disconnected lands.

Let the dust under sofa
cover your tongue, your backhole
languidly offering new.
We have a chin for the new wearers.
He will march with us into the solar system.
He will show tricks with which to scare idols.
His palms will observe a salt moment
white black grainy old photo tracking
the tracks of the tracks of the tracks
of those healing veins, licking one rectum shyly.

BRAMBLE PORN: NAILED INTO GOLD

I was in the realms
of comfort, a friend was dying.
No November can fall
on this roof, quacks the robot.
We were playing hop-skotch
deep in Elysium back fields,
quacking roosters
raid the field of night, over and starlit over
again the basketball hoop is
tilted by leapers, moth hop
dying on the old rope net,
grey as the whole polluted sky,
hung on a white cotton
fuzzed antler, space-sprung
nuclear yellow, liquidly poured open
from universe to universe. easy,
all quick naked veined
childlike, right for the job.

Ice-picks beheaded adorn
each helmeted shoulder,
the ones coated in lipstick
step up after and after the
unmolded quiver of each other,
lighting the eaten web, two rainpeople
laughing, two drizzlepeople
nailed into an attic corner
by collapsing gravity. And a mansion
is reconstituted pinkdarkly
among murdered restaurant winds
what holds the palm lined in engine oil
drawing the vaporous presence
of otherworld moth
twitching under rock walls,
nudging sheep to the late flares
of the open sun. You evaded
your taxes for this, you bought
and drank twin plastics of vodka,
you rubbed saddle lotion
on the TV wires, for this, you undid
your fake gown, you androided greenly
through everything, this is youth,
swingset's eye on the road wreck's
parade of daily loving bodies.

So that you could go to the bottom
we all talk about
and go there and go there
and go there
and find out what is left there.

sOLIPSISM IN PURPLE

1

He who lays on his own doorstep,
crying as if he cannot get in.
That one ate the berries
and puked them onto a runway.

We hear the scythe of his sun's last surge
in the trots of a kitten, bound for brush
and to be mysteriously eaten,
corpse-flaps torn like fetal wings
failed beautifully against moss forest floor.

2

He chases himself around the room, she drifts
across wall after wall healing blisters in the paint,
he won't look. Now and hereafter are the same
crimson muddle. Elbows eye sockets greasy hairs
in greasy teeths.

A new bulb grown between weather
near the top of a central town statue.

LONG VERTEX SURFER, YORK BEACH

mechanical overtone dusk on bridges
rattling in darkened time, pigeons startled
in their half-numb ways, looking you far
under an umbrella robot's green lipstick,
robot's vermilion furs, robot's bowling alley:

arteries frayed in the air, holding a laughing knife

to his guts, neck deep in the bank waiting room,
a sad deer limping through the wooden gaze
of his reflection-worship, the stunned vertebrae of his
admired objects, wing torn twice on ocean rock,
long mouth beak tongue rooted to the taste
of pink sand-meat somewhere near, under ice-trays
and a radio, someone's snoring the life away,
someone is velvet laugher, someone is holder
of a license, black-shelled, charcoal battle-vest
of ink-tree, tattooed to a blade-fence
of city on sky sky on city

a mouth hot in the woods, whiskey flask
deep in the air, deer hooves left a series
of clumps; worms in pebble writhing:
dark whores on the quartz smoking

nuns in suppliers, whole dark on their daughter's pulse.

Urine-pod, the mouth without kisses, mouth that steals
a tunnel, the mouth that is alarm-clock deep in the air,
distributing waste--and I prophesy
a kitten olive in an ice cabin.

Mechanical overtime welcomes its daggers
in the mouth back of each ringing springtime--
eyes on the zipped lids across the gloss
of mirror-dagger
tonsils asquirm in the clothes-machine--

we throw terse peanuts at our mothers
in the ticket windows--there was
an old money lover
with eyes on the bridge, seagulls
raining upon his desperate mouth,
his green eyes gobbled up in white shit,
his thumb-finger combination blue
in public realm yellows, high white
podium people blanching
in the televised wilderness
of the untrained mammal spirit,
rubber eyes entering a wall--

the talons of daydreams in white shirts,
hot winds of non-history
from their his/her faces
each at its separate time and place
the science-fiction indoors
and the science fiction outside.

HUNDRED sEA Numb

the air cave of sleep,
light green where electronic women
grate the air through bladed holes
in cell walls, uncooked rabbit
eating other rabbit
the dulled ghost nucleus
a cooling campfire's iron spit,
rusting and bloody in salt daylight,
magnet ocean, deliverer
of instantaneous dreams.

There are several dolphin heads
bunched together at the port:
several knives gather around a table
to defile the game of chess,

Disembodied mantlepiece of jawdreams
bathed in oily beards
hundred sea numb with volcano's blood,
shore warm with lipstick radioactive
from day's atomics, sandstone-faced
long-eyed. All spoonmouthed, virgin.

snakes of longing, winds of flesh,
garlands of strong spice, computerized
phalluses, streetlight poles
eaten by tides, we'll dance out,
into the copulation of words, carrying
a trash can charred by acidic blood,
refusing to show the staring crowds
that it holds nothing
and is for nothing.

I'd love something to lift this neighborhood
with predictable suddenness, then drop it,
a big tar pancake, cracked all over,
powerline streamers flying saucer eyes,
pedestrians carved down past apathy
to the kind of gaze hard enough
to take five pounds in five seconds
from your body if you meet it
with one of your own.

WALKING tHROUGH A LIGHT GREEN ZERO

We're eating mirrors again today,
the most exquisite cactuses
are on our shoulders,
dogs who seem to smile
in our blind spots
are really panting desperately
for life when we turn and light
our darkness to find them,
we thought we were desperate for experiences
that have made little difference now
they have happened, everything that carries
the dirty fur of daylight
is now going bald with strained deliberateness,
the bones of a beloved lizard decorate
the dresser in an ex-lover's bedroom
and the dashboard of a scrapped car
simultaneously, three pairs of eyes
stare at them from three places
at once and create with their staring
a fourth, then nimbly lizard bones
crawl around on the cylinder of
a misshapen model of earth
in the skin that once covered them,
someone is eating tinfoil, someone is not.

LOVE POEM # 20

If your body falls out of your body
while you sleep in my stumped
watchfulness, I won't know where
of what's left to go,

magnets of now
hold us palm to palm
or arch to arch
while one's at rest
and the other roams,
this mirror-walking
on each other's frozen
seek has become
we're made of the same exact water.

Into your attic of hair
hands fly lightward
from the strong core
of a weak being,
each holds grim laughs
a dagger to the flab chest
of all lower selves,
each we sweep our kitchen
to see the other turn
wet from sink to try
clean steps into gratefulness
more to see
the features of the electric one
reflected in the floor
of the world.

Chests wet with the blood
of mutual emergency
we turn past the turning to look
into the force farther out,
further in that prompts
the turning turning. We walk
in an orchard of cascading skeletons,
each knife-sharp orb-cave cut

to painless enfolding
of all sight
by the thinnest clouds
brightest lunar skies
collide with all afternoon
our nearest clothing renewed
is a subway train
moving sideways into organism.

If your body falls out
of your body, my body will
fall out of my body to follow it.

LOVE POEM # 19

at times I don't know our love's depth,
sometimes I'm walking
down a path exactly the way
I walk up it, sometimes I don't know
the sex of the daffodils.

Soon I know like a tight green bulb
that we are entwined by the vines
of grapes that I went near
but did not pick
when I was young.

We're an island on an island
on an island towering
straight from a center, wielded
slightly by the strongest centers
of others, now from every molten heart
our orbits among the length of our love
longer than our progress along it, some-
times we are late to discover
the strength of the daffodils.

LOVE POEM # 18

one voice moves through time
the other moves without it
both come from the same mouth

they sing at first
as branches underwater
sometimes simultaneous
sometimes from the center
of a bright anemone
in brighter sunlight

a whole ocean drawn back

they sing at last
each is pair upon pair
of lips
opening upon opening upon
lid upon lash upon lid
between the amphibian diagrams
of each others each
rib upon rib

both come from the same mouth
the others move without it
one voice moves through two
in time, the other moves
without them, together they ride
apart.

LOVE POEM # 17

I'll kick holes in all
the hospital walls
until a clean bed
falls out of it,

until the bright lawn glints
with brighter drops
of doctor's blood,

frozen semen chandeliers
dangling over the beds
of sleeping nurses
summer clothes adorning
a mannequin.

I'll kick the hospital walls
until you fall out
of one of the windows
and into my arms,
we'll spit at the flame ends
of the tattered blankets around you

we'll let your hair enwrap
the roots of trees every sleep
and polish our antiques
to go to work on the world,
kissing each other through poised
scissors.

LOVE POEM # 16

rain-touch, fur-touch,
tar touch, far
touch metallic,
wind-touch
and touch of breezes,

sky-touch, you punch a womb
into the strides of air.

rainbrush
lady fern
micro-cut
in eyeleaf & bladeside
ripping holes in underwear
the passenger seat & then

solemnly thinking
of ice-cream you--
have your amusement--
look back, someone is riding a bare deer
into the notched stem of your spine,

LOVE POEM # 15 Opal green

I love to sit and touch her with
that part of the blanket

that gives way

even though I know she'll never end
I cannot get sufficient portion
of nudging her bedside crying,
on those legs.

I love to crouch clamped
with the right velvet taste
in my mouth and wait
stupified by the things
she can give me;

I never know whether I miss more
her feet in the photograph or
her absence in presence
her presence in absence

LOVE POEM # 14

I love the smell of acid rain
gas stations lit up
by useless signs, fish-scent
in the oil of ceaseless electronic air:
our two mind-capsules heavy
under the lash of eyes
from the belly of a tree,

slums answered with barks
of celebration, the poet-warrior
slumping to his last mirror.

I love the docks untidy with guts,
hammering lemon & tomato odors
in the hot air of forever,
stunning its sights into scarcity,
behind the pink eye's beyond:

one nickel parked
on a cooling driveway, I remember
a truck rattled in the empty road
until you closed the window.

early dyers, living
forever. Stuck in the eye
of a monument.
All doorways open
grapes in the threshhold
to the outside air,
fish in the black blur
of a holographic moat,

fishscale measured to the eye
snail feel menstrual protein
under the ridge
of a snarled nail
coming home to computer dinner.
Sad frog's frozen, eyes
looking out over a desk,
legs ruined to a chair,
to sit & observe: retinas
of chainsmoke,
a bad pastiche of mustaches,
sit and stare each other's
beings until the body
and its clothes are turned
high white quartz
then marble deep
in the eyes
burst-first.

lates

answers came from other fields,
out around a colossal central mountain
to chains of reaction

the taste of a lemon, by anyone

the alternating sugar
the backbones
where they are paired

LOVE POEM # 13

the yellow
four petals; the white
the red
navel; the green airy,
whisp-

(((())))

he eyebrows the
union
the head spreads

to identify himself

liquid by water;
the incandescent

direct symbol.

LOVE POEM # 12

the white of this dog's fur
is so white, the black of his fur
is so black, his mongoloid angel
eyes, sweetly bulge

on paths toward no path,
he runs island edges near
the bay's lap, an ocean's

reverberator, his teeth & tongue
are greetings to the air,
that dog makes a man cry
who can't cry,

his white fur disturbs the black
of one room's sofa, his black
the white canvas of another.

LOVE POEM # 11

we are lust,
that is what we love with,
the skies we push out of the way
the numerous umbrellas that sheathe
our oversides,

we are a crown around
the root of a cliff-grown
sapling.

our heels dig in the same places
where our toes very recently did,
the beach we invent
overlaps the beach that invents us.

LOVE POEM # 10 Red Admiral

music-threads, my little bird
connects the connections
to the other connections
makes fertile soil moisten & surge
around the roots of the
telephone poles,

takes my poor head up into
the territory of my rich head,
moves my shins through my
elbows feelingly, the bellies of boats
are above our root,
the ceiling thatched
with underwear-leaves,

pillowed for every angle,
our bodies jutting
with bones in the tongue,
tongues in the bone,
quiet satisfactions that get louder
at their most
intimate ebb.

my shadow has two tails
one turns into your caress
the other is a spray of surf
that your caress brings me to

that room is an empty channel
I look for new ways to pronounce your name.

Sometimes I want to find
out if I have a spirit,
the way the tip of the tongue
tastes sourness,
the ceiling of everything.
-----------------------

----------------------we finished the page, the
brilliant script lasered into our
tent wall, green canvas in
a maze of birches, toothbrush
pathways sand-scrub bath

in faded cooler, finish, in blue
sleeping-bag interior finger vulva
finish, finish the tides with
your feet, dance the poles
upholding fishing docks, deep
into the beach, all restaurants

and deep computers shut off.