{(((<>)))}

Wind chimes in the hills
torches of slowly
expanding neighborhood
in digital velvet, circuits riveted
to the noosphere's underbelly
I fell--you put on an extra bracelet
or took one off--deliberately
into the peaking azaleas.

You arrived a strong vision, and departed
an even stronger one, the playgrounds
felt your chainlink tracing fingers
the swings still pendulum leather
and I remain on the porch, waiting
for your form's imprint
to leave this fever and make a basket
that tows me finally outward into sleep.

~~~<<<>>>~~~

That man who wants to snip birds
into sad little pieces, I know him!
And that man who has swallowed
the government, and wants to puke it up
into a billion helpless
unstruggling things
I've met him

but I am a gardener dancing
in rows with twine and fences
I've twitched with well-done metal
all the stones this late morning

grace the path I've put down for low ivy
the mask you are for all dying things

mercy the cranberry mouth, the stem you hid
so many altered things to fall
against the inalterable.

LATE VALENTINE TO FRIDA SPRING


birds chirp in the shoulders
knees and elbows
but even your most hesitant movements
are hungering to break out
grown wild, a gypsy hidden
in a suit of business
wings cut out amongst the flock
for a one-man feast
in regimented riot
his children in full color your feet on the roots

solid light
training slick boulders
and the movement of impossible things
I travel sparse reaches, I can't believe
my passport is not a hologram
you will survive on chocolate
I will spank you awake every morning
birds atwitter in the propane tanks

A DAY MIGHT


gladness, a little dog
so many towering landscapes
the lick of water between stones
so many objects on fire
so much flesh and blood extinguished
to the rumbling of fountains
complaint is filed
in glacial shells, a little dog under
branches and wires, immediate moment
in collar

to the angry in their horrible hallways
or those appeased in science fiction basements
these sidewalks are a seesaw equally weighted
the church steps a place to get stoned
talk smoke under the leaves
of college streets where I've never been a student
always wafted in headphones, downstream
from where they've made a study of life
a worker in cheetah robe, finger pawing
the wet wreckage

and I curiously examine the water
to watch a curious little dog curiously
examine the water
and my entrails are in an unimpressive heap
next to the town pool
but my dreams my dreams are getting
a wave from the flagship

WHITE ANTS IN A TAR POT

Spillage of green theater
soldiers returning, but not all at once,
old guardrails wrapped in vines
stone slanting walls, moss ripped,
webbed tendrils soft with dirt
there are no skeletons
anywhere in this afternoon

Banquet was a wrung number
ruffled closets
burials move on without meaning
garden circuits open to the newspaper
closing their dimensions down
salt on a shovel

Pea pods will still carry the snap
of firm time, from a vat
or platforms of terra farmed
soil, conservatories where a certain curse
is heard less and less.

|||||||||||>><<|||||||||||


The six-story
water cylinder
mildew'd grey white
against green fresh hills
is not spilling
is life itself
and is not a secret

For those on four limbs here
some ghostly from war, or birth deformity
all hold our field of forced eyes,
impose the terror of plastics breaking
a pitchfork's staff
humming from a stab
stark weapon on the grain sack mound
it's stuck in, a cattle doorway rippling
with ten billion
leaves it looks out upon

~|`|`|`|`|`|~


He's trapped in a cell of manhood,
watching the ceiling crawl
with other prisoners.

The void breaks, there is some singing,
the panel of a harpsichord
fettered like a zoo
to the deep wall.

Under all the ophidian fields
someone is laughing in a cellar
nuked pillars and archways
learning to make love in dust.

///>>>>>>///


radio in the blood
faint hours, grow brightly
stacked apartments are wide open
depths refrigerate foreign milk
where a lover brought me, among strangers
daydreams punctuated by gunfire
drip off the porch, where a full moon
abandons the whole town

I'm not listening to your song
I'm hearing the building creak
I'm not pricing your shoe leather
I'm ducking blood-winged arachnids from lightbulb
you're not kissing fire
you're kissing a well-assembled heap of bones

budding from basements all over
mutant strands in the dip of the throat
your dark qualities used to be free of cancer
you were a dancer, now you hang out
in the dressing room
a rectangle of mirrors that you can't shake
backstage when that meteor rolls down the aisle
bricks slide to show jewels from between each other

..........


speech breaks, and it's only
so many dawn walks, so many
fenced fields, poppies
blown across the bricked-in cities
friends of panic
gather together where the surface
rises and breaks, speech

given a language, given an instrument
energies that fry their makers
murdered for making sex
born to carry trouble around
like a crate of medicines
the previously unloved

In the hard folds of a peach pit
or where astronomy enters the beach party
our conversation will come apart
because loneliness has made a cave
the human map no longer holds together
hyacinths spill from the gridplan

we discuss holiness, being unholy
we are learning the heat of a standstill

DESPERATION


I am a claw claw
turning against the light I love
my children in junk, feebly ejected
I should ask the heart shape
on a pigeon's shoulders, I should ask
anything that will not answer
for my foolishness needs silence
I am a claw turning to melt

Some dark agent stopped helping me
I leaned against the trunk weight
of a tree that held no burdens
the needles came down on clouds
no nurses were offering
I'd rather be the spatter than the wound
camped in a lampshade
love made in an armchair
a claw that forgot to scratch
nails turned inward on a yearless palm
the body inland or the body as a coast
let the waters lap around us while the kid's ghost
collects more ghostly shells

To die in the woods, where you were not born
some happiness sledding the cemetary
joint smoking on a river's rock
lichens blended with ash, in a blowjob dusk
enjoyments capsized gladly
in the tumult of the water cycle
dogs around a pond and the skinny dip disintegrated
drinking coffee on a branch
above a field of broken glass
while a battleship leans through stalks
wasps feather around their syringes
in an elbow of brambles

My friend wants speech to soothe miles
the cave where explanations cease
is growing damp, even the images there
are wet and wild with the blood
of many ages, he can feel
the arrowheads move as he rides the bus

=================

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/


The pineal aperture spills out
yellow and grey mountains
behind a sinking city's gelatin
someone making sandwich wraps at the foothold
exclaims that deep ice has cracked
in their head's rough center
the endpiece shines like waxed eternity

a dining room lonelier than a glacier
kiss of spines notched through a lip plate
approaches lashed together by leather shoelace
cut lettuce of eyes rifling
through fresh gaps in memory
where cube glass counters bury jewels
in bronzed wing falsities
eroding time left next to guardrail

The whole sacred cloak is a cluster of fingernails


/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

UNYIELDING PANACEA


Walls of lilac that won't
let me in to their heliotaxis
or the spaceport of astral forms
that don't require humble clothing

for I have squirrel hands
love coons who run on concrete shelves
eyes aglint of fiberoptic straw
reaching and bending throughout the body

behind black metal fences and before the cluttered mountains
mischief beyond mischief where the caves are open
and the spring's mouth coats a pitcher's stem
dew is unhandled wetness

and the slit moss gives black soil in small deposits
maybe a form that boomerangs
is the only smile

()~~()~~()~()~~()~~()

(((((-----(((((


Autoharp mouth in a bedroom corner
trembles faint twang as raccoons slip
deftly into riverbreath, with the deception
of clumsy sound, from banks
where skunk and rabbit move
deeper into separateness
through ferns away from aqua lit
human paths tarred under

we go to be intimate behind brick
where pigeons slip into electricity
I hear the paws on shelled things
you are the knees cracking
heat that focuses my wound
all the coils in tubes
that pull bird sounds
down to a wet core
thicker than water.


(((((-----(((((

*****

A flood in the walls
pipes scrubbed rough by falling pebbles
little moons from the roof turned inward
you'll be thrown out by angels
and find your bed on the other side of the planet

Light chalked its impure territory
in graphs around you
took too long from gas giants to get here
there's a love in oceans of boiling metal
that guards their islands
kept green by heat
fertile by what can never give birth

*****

<<<({})>>>

A high brown sepulcher
with many bright nooks
on the way up from the dead
battery that was the sparking body
deep in its rectangle
limbs that climb like eyes
rafters that could've been its spine

The lightstream skydome
dissembled in triangular burdens
on a sleeping road, the inside of the mouth
lined with larval tigers
moccasins for the naked body
aroused, luna treading
wings fresh from a basement bath

Friend of my death, lift the windshield
from my half-eaten dials
let the microscopes and their nudging
small lasers that rustle within
purge forth to scatter these
weak instruments, highways clogged to breeding
with mute human beings.

REAL COMMERCIAL

All these days and hours, barely aware of my own skin!
High-octane newness everywhere, I love it!
And sweet fructose corn syrup, I love it!
Man as a self-created being, I love it!
Woman as a way to stop weather, I love it!
Stadiums packed with meat-eating genealogy, I love it!
Garage shadow over the yellow moon, I love it
Blankets left soaked on roots, I love it,
Coathangers nuzzling time, I love it,
The standards of nothingness applied to everything,
I love it!

)))))=((+))=(((((


The wet brick of living houses
slither on straight lines
moving upward from where
eyes are hands

lashes open powerline whips
four hearts on a stove
a garden party's whiskey and ash
trays the gladiator's stadium

in miniature, condescended
molten silver
figures weightless in trash
stadium seats

you can find me singing forgotten histories
in broken-pillared outskirts
high on edges grand
paths lizard-backed

austerely seething
I'll remember your snubbed name
stub face, eyes turned
concave irradiant

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)


Existences
a dandelion clock making noise
two conch shells swirling in a basement doorway
two mouths crying hello in waves
seaweed belts and seaweed covers the breast
a pencil stretch of road
angled through the eye of breaking mirage
water life marooned in fleeced trees
winking of all twilight and rhododendron

|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|


sprung throats for no song
fill riverbed from surface to depth
and all space is a web within them

a window to watch a wedding from
the countertop where spinach is chopped
knife between fingers and eyes on forked trees

you're looking for something to call Master
while I'm searching for a numinous vast
between commanded galaxies

and touches that move
only with the aid of tested bone

but worship the ferns, where I spilled
you squatted and smoked

here comes all the freight trains on mattresses
suits that bang podiums and have
mad children to kill them

blood that spirits away from empty ribs
in passion descended
the frolic of uncertain headstones

{ [ { [ ] } ] }


The weight on a bird's head
man was once flightless and feels

open the onion and garlic drawers
dried currants tumble from slashed burlap

let me loose on the garden boys
in pornographic silhouette, deprived of dance

to fight for your elegance preying
triangle that holo-hacks
through parched eternities
to support your cheekbones

on a thrift lamp
socket of a gambled wheel
snatch in grey fervor
after the tags of other warriors
shrunk to fit
the vests that protect them

fist that rises in a tide pool
runs on extragalactic color
must be,--diamond cold
on diamond cut--bloodfully reattached

our hot planet

<<<{{{{{}}}}}>>>

What the fuck is this proud animal, man,
doing with his time

not what he is
but the shadow he hides in

No werewolf on moth wings
dressing a raw pale form
in a gown of wet brownleaves

The woodpond opens a concrete square
on the road's edge, we can see pine cones again
as if they were

the first flower of the world. 

()()()()()()()()()

Platforms fleshy as mushrooms
take rectangular shapes
rear up in strong wet boxes
take on pock-marks
from adult feet
made miniature by so much
fungal vastness

Say the age is powerless
it manifests an empty pharmacy
our ribs
knife clusters that'll only sheathe
each other in.

NO~WIFE~NIGHT

Ecstasy is not on stilts
walking through the supermarket
imagining garden corners that deepen
with every step
who stands at the stove
with breadmaking planed out
in front of them
staring at a single light
under a deep pool
something eerily reclaimed

Strange soldiers marching
both without fog and without direction
nothing they plant in the sand
ever comes up a partner

'/,/'/,/'/,/'/,/'/,/'

These days live on a cliff
I can't tell if I've already stepped over
people walk dogs along it
there is no railing
the wet earth is marked
by dandelions as usual
but you feel as if somebody's rented your life
and won't leave.

Clover of mouth and strong thighs
these branches are all sap
until you pound them into being
bring a funnel
lined with micro hammers
stone beyond sacredness
the gold and silver mica chips
to open medieval computers
I fondle money around your priestess' goblet
tag your tongue and send you home to your husband
he's a mantis on every antenna
the watching world's put up
to pass the Mayans.

Masculine herds in codpiece
jogging the dams
feel female ascension
spirals we can't find
past rigged ethereality
our own shape lays open
but to flirt with the assassin of oppressors
one must clean his gun
an expert interweaving
hunt with craft:

Retake the caves our fathers painted
polish them to clearest glass
see vulvic spacecraft climbing;
superevolve
or die,
boys.

:::""":::""":::""":::

The bulb gleams tight
from what wedged this system's
dark ribs open to emerge
multiverse, where we are kissing
blanket of evolved nerves
on a force-field of plankton
two gnats coated in lipstick
while the nonexistent underbelly
sighs to no longer muff broadcasters

Goodbye to all the jealous boring people
holding prisoners, the Milky Way grows weak
with lightless agonies
we're slapping our carnal mittens together
to make sparks from undead frozen stuff
no more aluminum territory
for gangs vast to hold
lay across lichened planks a vegetable body
watch kittens come out of the machine deep garage
to quaintly observe
the suffering created by motion

The bulb gleams to burst
with bloodless blood
to annex a galaxy
blue for the last time
screaming in a sealed tank
water from the lungs and cum from the hands
I'd like to wake up in your kaleidoscope of paws
dreamed white and green fissures
between their semblances
and nothing ever holds
but I'll stand in its peaks
lapping and burning, 'til you
lay me down cryogenic
and walk my bridge body in copper
to the light of your solitude.

{===========}

In scaffolding green
sod on boards
outside the fire in the record store
where we never ran into one another
elections erased flew past into ink caves
left curtains veiny with bald blue light
ballroom king and queen of all the killers on earth
moved each other by elbows
marble twins shook off melting vinyl
no more recycled creatures
come out of the basement's catch
out of ruined gods and wax coffin words

To puzzle holds brown and crimson
woods are aching like a bicycle
ponds leaping so high
the tail slap on antiques
of what those
carrying spine meek in a pail
cannot mother towards
metal edges in fresh-cut doorways
a thousand snail shell wheels
rolling carts through the love of space

In scaffolding green
built on the molten
world where we finally met
forgot our bones still moved from square to square
while our essences carved like water
worm of life in the air
a bidet's two fingers.

^>^<^>^<^>^<^>^>^<^<^>

Grey furred cock-a-roaches
in the sun gnawing
crunch, a web of vertebrae
the bark in rough rivulets
around a woman's waist
many radiant shells encircle
the base of roots
let the daylight eat the daylight

There was a time when I watched it all starve
from deep within, now bring the little gluttons
I've planed bench after bench
to perch selves by riversides
and watch their senses twitch
the nostrils of squirrels
in claw gloves, agility in all directions
the churches were built by flesh
shed the skin that wouldn't wait and listen
let the moon that rips on stainglass
in the center of all mammal
answer the questionless.

<<<<<<(({{}}))>>>>>>

The sudden dovetail
of two huge spiritual animals
kicking of water in a brick doorway
where someone comes home daily
exhausted by light

A dance two do with the pattern left over
when mapped vicinities overlap
that cause each other to rear up in folds
of ancient color protected
a mantle breaking sidewalks
and a voice that never stopped urging
trickling along all wires

To the triangle where you stand
from the grave slanted
in a gold hang
bulb to slipper adorned
with shine that fled
from lesser planets
to touch down
riot of laughter thudded in a watermelon
before it broke loose in backyards

Raucous to find the deep honey in one throat
passing blades that always whirl in saucers
the anti-climate meld of two forms
that respect antique distances
and passion whipped dry by lunar sands
in an unwoken hour.

CARNIVAL OF HERMAPHRODITES

The small airplane can lift a grand piano--
listen to the wrecked belly sing--
you and I stand guard against the sky
from torpedo earth--
the cockpit has a drum set under glass
the astral curve that satellites will melt upon
a woman's body is coming
directly out of your forehead--
paint a porch on each wing

Watch me mother fuck fry
interplanetary meat from a pure tin can
and liberate the sex slaves from father Mars--
ovulant, purpled by rhythmic trees
on the eaten riverbed

There's a Tesla coil in the blood-blue
of your unwasted eyes--
break your hair on my proud belly
or ignite the amplifier with a labial crane--
that which reaches like a fist gloved with sorrow
from inside the body--this is
the total destruction of rock n' roll,
in a hallway blasted empty of history
watch paint fleck into mouths
from around the corners
as a hidden sun eats
the simmering form, plummet
canyons with quiet propellers
as the engine vapes what's left
of the ancient world
and the wormholes sicken into flower.

A FRIVOLOUS POEM

Furious idiots come over the meek hills
like a wedding party on stilts
clamoring to make their money
devour more money

Hills that have eaten more space and time
than her body has
hills mounting from the riverbanks
not to envelope anybody
not even to be
are overlapping
convexing they decline
toward roads that wither out
at the foot of a mountain
a force that is nobody's mother
a water running deeper
than any god-theory can go
nonetheless runs out
and is replaced
by an energy so vast
it needn't rise to the casual

Gesture without thought
to the blood that runs me
ache in your womb
for the bones that are craft and nothingness
within me
to be built again
in teething miniature
and I'll refuse with a knife in the morning
refuse with the clapping of certain librarian twats
whose hands pour urgent coffee
down the back of my neck
while my homeless doppelganger
paws a computer

The river is certainly eating your shit
but it will eat more and more
than you can ever shit
you have a couch on your tongue
if you do not learn the strength that resides
in currents of speechlessness now
you may meet me wherever
homo sapiens do thoughtless things
and expect to be paid handsomely for them
and I will not even bother to show up
to beat you with a rake, a lawn blade whirling,
a drag queen's wig flown off by rubber bullets
and the battle that takes place
in your skull addled thrice
by the place which I am modernly leaving.

{}{}{}{}{{{{{ }}}}}{}{}{}{}{}

My father's windows
aren't watched by anyone
move me across gravel
starred by inner earth
the windows themselves are watching

Knick knacks and bric-a-brac
are laughter on the shelves
somebody's enemy has fallen asleep waiting
my father's been looking in every wrong place
but he left a path in the air
I'll soar it and never sleep

So many barn houses stacked on curves
behind the strained tumult of future highways
gardens bare as the sun
my father's looking for a woman
I'm alone with the sand

Friends and lovers left me
painted with psychedelic mud
my father is still noisier
than a house full of gods
with no war to push forward

into the toppling zones
where we suckling descendants
sent our sterile offspring through a labyrinth
long heads on long necks are screaming
but they have no form
and we recede from oblivion
into the frailty of peace
never advertised as beautiful bodies

My father's windows are now so wide
there is little house left
for him to rest in
he keeps staring his undirected stare
the shelves are parched lips
with no clapping monkeys
the activities in the kitchen are just a wind

he looked for a cook, then he learned to cook
his life's a breeze that can't
find the proper door
to flow out of

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Bring me twigs of fire
from the foot of the tree already burning

torch at the outskirts reaching
where we banked an auto
up on a series of sensual rocks

moss sprouting, ghost lambs
moving over the pastures, sprung
from a touch of milk
a helpless engine
the hidden fury of quiet grasses
across the street from an ice cream shop
and the flash of
nubile hands taut calves
dipping reach into myriad freezers

I slept against the boundaries of stone
woke up with my hands burned by figurine branches
walls of white wrapped waffle cones
calling hunger mine
and the milling of kind old women among the thermostats.

:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*:*

arcs of song
plow over the dust clouds
shaped anemone fingers
sleeping into the air
torpid wrecks who wear bihuman faces
talking an airplane's carcass
over a kitchen table
while eggs sleep broken brick
and hedge to words

Limbs a-tangle with the movements
they sing rootward
to the back of all yards
yolks popped on branching forks
the bookend holidays
that rail and end
in empty bellied woods
fraying sideward
this shard, that wayless way

````````````

After all the planning the planning
the planning, gridwise
that failed in buckets
failed
gratefully we enter the mystery

nothing in particular need happen next--
cosmos on the backs of my hands
and if I turn them over
will it spring from the lines
that police identify
on the other side

Salt grain highway
opens in the quartz of your eye
without, sting for love's dimension
washes its material impact
free of irritation, spirited mineral--

but bring it back for dinner, dear
spring's windows condition air
as a flung baseball bat
connects against the chainlink--

`~`~`~`~`~`~

At an open patio
where life is pouring
skies that do not create furniture
births of metal bodies
ride out of the earth
we're not sure if we're clinking glasses
or touching hands
but something is holding

On lightning paths
it moves bodies beyond form
time like a blade cuts chronology
across the sugar rails
of a butterfly conservatory
button quail are little commas of lard pecking
don't touch the wings in your hair
it's murder

Here's a brightness to be defended
it doesn't ask
octograms of garden gird
leafy gazebos
our guardian flowers

__>>__>>__>>__

Big bones of the river
water cannot be wayward

past the melting boulders of the shoreline
a single cat walks in enigmatic amusement
throughout the piston levels
of a power-blown factory

He paws at a planing table
where passionate machine, arms of men
once churned the agent dust
that turned their lungs to powder

the flick of his tail's without wisdom
but not unwise--he whiskers
in my whiskers
and my tailbone blinks,
basement resting riverbed
foundation upon foundation.

`~`~`~`~`

Nothing will take seed from me
unless the daylight is a newborn hammer

it won't be
river is lightly rippled

dims a forest edge
to seaside corner

from bedcloud slide
to tiptoe

someone is waking up in their own mural
to find a family of bland mutes

around them that did not give birth
and would not walk toward death

with calm, but died talking
of things unworth remembering

```````````

Long fields of broken stone
we used to call rivers

a doorway of industrial depths
toppling in the blood

we hang from the math of bridge girders
in geometry of underwear

~~~~~~~~~

Ornate platforms we brought power
brush over us in arabesque
the shadow of their works
we set precious gears in motion
they're paving our bed
with months past months
and seasons without motion

Where flames park on garage way
strips of electricity lay open
to the deafening night
winding the foot of a plateau
up on its pentagram shafts
a pantomime of mating grabbed
ahold of the fault line and hung on

[][][][][][]{{{{{{{{{{{{{{}}}}}}]]]

Show me the flamboyant one
who got past the guards
with a peacock of marijuana;
allow me to congratulate him personally

Lapse into speech
the way others fall into silence
across my desk a shadow towers
they talk on strings
breaks timber over
my legs rooted in marble

Parallel bars of steam
water tanks on stilts and wings
layered in heavy daylight
perched among lichens and spray paint
pigeons don't look up at
their cousins in steady blocks
of the higher air

{}{}{}{}{}[][][][]{}{}{}{}{}{}{}}

I quote, like a video machine
her eye broadcast
the total destruction of the real world

Lush rugs urge feet to third eye
in a sexual wobble; watch the fish tanks
return breakfast to surfaces
of algae green
and white stripes the fish are alive in
my shinbones and my bird
chest grown pulse
trembling to her shower
where she moves bulbs to peaking corners
in the rearranging rooms

She takes me to the stirrups
she's been put in
lets me feel the cold
life between forefinger and thumb
lowers the fluorescent cage
shows the passion of my speech
to be so many tumbling numerals

Campfire at the top of sodom hill
so many breezes that torched the morning
breathe back to me
through netsmoke of too many guitars
what you were saying when the real pearls shifted
she touched a ledge and found
a downbeat, mossy husband

While I chameleoned

///////)))))))

Her death's real walking past
with little dog and shopping bag
small shoulders loom
larger than monuments
lie down on their own shadows,
the spotlight on goldenrod,
crashed cars in an oval blaze
nimbus around her body lain transparent
floating away on private terrors
over the haze of the capital,

Where some waved signs
we clenched in an alley,
waiting for the obscure visit,
our demands as small
and as dark as the earth.
She taught the pigeons to play squirrel.
She taught rugby to tennis, in another country
I've never tested
the bathtubs, the electricity seems
to crawl around quite harmlessly
until she shows
through a subway or a space worm
to be a dandelion
at the top of an unlit hill

Trapped in a vase cut
from oxygen reality
little particles follow her down
neutrinos powdered with black ash.

BUSKER

Tonight the small city
is filled with broad silver sounds
the older men talk of how
minds failed against other minds,
genius somewhere resounding,

take me to leather corner
gesture toward some minstrel
where'd he come from
tonight the small city is a capstone
at the top of his forehead.

_________________

The machines are shot with a naked lens,
my whores on benches watch
a turnstile of orange crates
and send me reeling to the place
behind flaps of long industrial plastic
where I don't speak

I yell at screens of american cities
and then at all europe--
poison myself luxuriously
at the hotel bar--deep to the side of

the hum of rolling luggage
incinerates personas myriad
to chair the choir,
to whip the violins with boys
who stain the modern air like thieves
and leave piano booths in labyrinth
so powerfully spinning.

The canvas of machines
is still moved by chaos,
but only inches forward
and carries its humps--the ocean
in a siphoned heat washes up
a thousand scoured eyeglasses

we watch each other bought and sold
through bottles melting on pistons--
the warhead's clasp
musicians hold themselves to life with
is teething loose to multiply
among the reeled-up nations.

))))))))))))))))))))

The disguise of a prisoner,
I walk avenue A, this cigarette
doesn't belong in my hand,
small things are crowing
that will always sound
in some form,
silver and brown cross
to an antique ballroom
the town bought back from time
to keep a single dance
from falling into the basement files

Huge, grey eyes thistle over
a twilight room leaves color
a-drip in copper vases draining photosynth
to the shelved touch of petals
stacks of fringe that separate into ashes

Veins in the woodwork, a head nodding
over a rectangle of dust
a napkin from last night folded
in the breast pocket where a pigeon learned math--
planning a waltz
that something flinty in his knees won't learn
though the waist is undulant for salsa
the sidewalk is louder than ever with smokers.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

My kingdom is dirty
with ghosts that rattle a bridge
going to the drums, with a heart's core
pierced by telephone poles
the catholic spires in brick
peak insides caked with scentless pigeon shit
where I stopped to read the back of a postage stamp
half-buried in the wall
years stuck to clay no answer from the blood

My kingdom is chirping like a net
with phony seers who make plans onstage
the lego-placid future
of a yellow infrastructure
the sounds of old paint
and another nun dying for sex
laugh at your fellow animals
but the shore that eats closer to their clamor
preys on your achilles, pawns your fingers
to the neck cords
the body is an ancient device

My kingdom is brimming pale with foul-mouthed prophets
whom we all call by their first names
their shattered knowledge stalks us in place
like a factory standing
my kingdom is dirty with girls who lived glory
in the reach of my instruments, and I'll have it
paid by the ferment of strong wood
the planing hands pool shapes
for clean fits
know the future is free from existence
force nails of blacksmithometry
through the cage of arthritis
his kingdom is mine who makes
the things to ease a day past.

)0()0(

Limbs are laid out on the world
the pinpoint shrinks to diamond hard light
as spirit meets air, electronic water
the furies in space, star-turf

Wings are an extension of thought
the engine sends a passport to the spine
there is always a lady waiting at the airport
surrounded by the magazines of another time

Bathrooms open tiled pools
to tape recorded mirrors
the tracks are going soft on changing earth
winding the city's sex of noise
around a single axle

Wireless bulbs open shop glass glint
teeming with dark stained analog faces
heaven's in the murk
stem of burning and savior of burning

If a panther came into the lobby of my life
shook me out of trembling
and sent a hollow gram of beauty
through the shield of a heartattack--

(0)(0)(0)(0)(0)(0)

Electrical rope binds our dwellings together
our rugs teethed by vac
cleaner sucklings
the dents in a map
flick lights bioluminous

In our headgear we can touch
more forms at once
black lipstick red tape, simultaneity
the cats on the sills
the lizards in glass
can feel vibrato sanctum shriek, our tearing loose
from cornerstones, silent as space weather

As the discovery of dark matter
lifts up a labyrinth of connectivity
our closeness to vastness, no outer
with the harp strings taut of DNA unwound
the desert plain of lightyears
sucks up the narcotic blitz
we took to approach it
and just keeps drinking

/////////////////

Back of the war
streaked with embraces
weaving in out of bomb-time,
on a sidewalk busy with
those preparing to be still

I remember the porch chipped red
in younger morning light
past aunt's unicorns and prism cones
and chimes
every front yard tree
a vine on the watching world's face
though they passed indifferent

Fences and soda cans
salt on an iceberg
mother's soup grows wok size on the stove
the cats are dissatisfied with the garden
fresh from turning
until a mole's head at the fringe of the compost
snaps them away
twine and stakes trembling
around the pod plants
sunflower's leaves when seeds are ripe
the sound of something that loves
near stillness,

I fell into a textbook submarine
but the weather was my mother
I melted in snowcraft
grew hot to the core
trying to freeze the volk out
there are things in the ocean that can't sing
and live blind to their brightest grandeur.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Circuits of drained time
toward a basement lovenest
the bottles rattle and the smokewebs
tremble and thin
our mattress is the glove of the gods

This early morning you bleared at me
that you wanted to live
in the fire of life as most live
in the fire of death
or something like that
then you got my blood ready
for the morning's recoil
by threading me through
the diamond that's empty when it's full
when it's empty

The cars of the partiers on the lot
are conch shells where our ears don't swim
we've got a tented canoe
where a radio runs on acid
we walk on impenetrable blueberries
push them with infant hands
onto our nuclear teeth
where the savior of the world
is doing push-ups on a grindstone
fallen side to the floor of a tomb

Runnels of filth green water
from beyond nature into nature
we examine our oars corroded hands
plummet through spaceless gardens
the pods of peas pecking
and latching on our fingers

The lake's lifted like an iceberg
tractor beam sparking high
belly of the ship turned over
the whole lake spills
the oceans show their nervousness
in our looks, we brush the nuke fur away
with twig birch and mentha, tongue-kiss
to melt our expressions
the oceans tilt and lift
in an unfamiliar manner
we break through the living tissue of movies
and master a screen deeper
in the waxworks of rapidly moving things.

(+)+(+)+(+)+(+)

Don't go through the woods looking
for a floating house
it's only beeswax and bitters
you'll need, you're not going far this time
though the torn up days in office
entertainment and dregs
have stitched an orchard plan
into the dirt's stem of your skin

The string of your solitude
balloon held in network
crave for the levitating town
dropped a buffet on the boardwalk
tabled for you to stare
and fight over an umbrella
with a lover aging faster than the bridge
linking cities imagined

There's a nest of white plumage
in an alley wedged shut by births
where you'll lie down wrapped
in tiny languages you do not know
to wait for a charcoal spaceship
or a blank man at a corroded podium
calling the name behind your name
when the cinema that opened your landscape
has closed your eyes
and the music that divulged your sex
has rendered you untouchable.

(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)

Lulled by a curious animal
the hunt is going forward with sleepy shots
led and caboosed by men who don't notice
their lack of luck, or mercury leavings
from the measurement of alternate stars

Ledge of a general shop's overhang
light loving the outline unchalked
of a customer who dove deep in the tar
with a spray of glass dulled
in its design to be breakable

Our haloes shelled open
shovel tongues aglow with coal
what we swallow in comrade rounds
is vivid in her torso
prey that learned to hold in stasis
what we venture to disturb
and are born by

||||||||||||||}}}}}}}}}}}

Overwhelmed by the three tides of sadness
one for not having a woman in your bones
one for not enough liquid no matter what liquid
one for the sucking breath that does not create food

Laughter high and often
on the tiles of shattered continents
will be coming to invite you
out from the property of your name,
shortly,
when you are expertly unready
whether in a vault where needles go to die
or a wall of inhabited wood

Arriving wept
in all the usual ways

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angels on separate floors
spattered with the movement
of the wound they came through
slide adamantium floors heeled
through sad moppers
watch in headphoned agony
the twitching that eats up
pockets of electricity

Water watch, on stories siphoning
trap of the human body
trap of the bride, watching
from a nylon lobby
doors revolve core of the dying air
parched valentines catch in your mouth
the clockwork of human relations
goes on somewhere far outside

The central office, knocked in its numerals
to the back brain of reptilian feeling,
warming only to lonely women
and the crooked tables
sunk halfway in sand
of the devastated fled
north and south over safe deposit boxes
emptied of the falling sun.

)|()|()|()|()|()|(
POINT OMEGA POSTPONED

Look a fuckin giant piece a money
says one old bar goat to another
tickets waft out the door
lizards in synthesis with leaves
wind sidewalk portals
local soil pack roots of alien trees
innocents come into their shadows
screened naked by tunnels
new light from old lamps,
waning

Tumults of dark doves
from a cleft in the rock
where a spring stopped
gushing
clear water moss lips
retreating
moccasins weathered on the pointed stones
for the bulls-eye climber: he puts himself in danger
for the excitement of afterlives
afraid of the cops on TV
or catching an axe-slit with his palm, tenderly

Someone is filling my windowsill skull
with sprigs of basil, and clover
Look a fuckin giant piece a money

(|)(|)(|)(|)(|)(|)

Ice cathedral and glass
in expensive Japan
someone is dancing a solitary riot
to a solar wind your being let loose
in its jazz sleep
the sugary corners draw rats
ghostly occurrences start the car
dumpsters hum with electricity
two white and black cats
darting out of the storeroom,

Cardboard hideaways spill satin
the death-note left smoking on the clipboard,
a soul dangling in high racks
of aging plastic, tin siding splits
its rails, and opens up into the apple
orchard; we are always, sub-here,
we have always been here among tanks
of tall emergency water,
even when we danced on pottery
and picked the day out of our hair

With the comb of a gone aunt,
banging a piano in a sun-eaten ward,
the confusion of seasons descended upon us
we were unaware, we were picking apples
from limbs of war, grew used to it
filled wells with salt
that would not birth our world over us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the moment you first sensed
the madness of war
or the one time you checked
your body to make sure
the whole machine was still there,
there was trouble standing
in the highest channels,
a whole orchestra stood blackened
for no reason,
stabbing blunt metals
into the twitching atmosphere
proclaiming their superiority to emptiness,
icing the taverns with
pale thought like thieves,
tugging kiosk mid-belly
of burning canoe to sell waffles.
Frost of days, that passed
with every warning

||||||||||||||||||||||||||

A switch touches too many lamps
our lonely house can't find the other planets
their gravity draws upon your canopy bed
brings quiet blue fire to the seams
and where I walked your floorboards
naked as a feather now I wear
a suit of armor that can be seen
everywhere people have no need of it
tulips bent from wrestles in public gardens
hang head from green glass rims
pistil and stamen pretzeled
the arch of bridges that never end
even when the river's crossed bank to bank

Black branches half sunk
darkened by water adorned
by snails matched to shade of bark
cousins tread like brothers and sisters in shells
across the knobby parallels
a switch is touched off in the larger trunks
where the homeless slide off their bicycles
and leave them to rust through human ages
to become unused material again

Eyes no longer berserk with fuel or lack
I wonder what foxes might be messengers of
coils from earth like wine
wind around broken limbs lift
body many times born
in a sky-casket
of twigs and rubber
nickels pawed over
raw and ornate to a hotel room
where mirrors of self-sex beam
an image back to places where it can't belong
the foxes pad the doorstep
rubber and coins and cage of twigs snap open
the body falls out like a contact lens
from the moon's beam back in the empty house
the switches ghost pulse
to send you back through all your doorway beds
where I am no longer waiting
for the river to cross nothing.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Precariat Dreams (Kali in Old Glory)

Treebuds stainblue cloud
split dust metallic
painted bridges lancing
out all ways strength and wavering
broth of desire births computer work
scaffolds the eating sod
in platform gardens
we find ourselves sitting on state-owned rumps
fall any way we can
out of our bodies bought

The torched parlor
wings through a highway
wide from a flowering branch
the architecture of a silent heart
is vined with grapes of blood
from the wage-slave harvest
servants who've emptied the milk pails
drain cows behind all rolling eyes
and bathe in the doorsteps

We're inside kindling
the fire transcending between antagonists
surfing their weary waves
to the ocean that never falls flat
spine-fingered ballerina
the North American goddess has six arms at last
her big sisters wield
me on a sponge
washing her briny armpits
three by three

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A NEW WALTZ

Dams slide open with the sound of worlds creaking
in ancient wood, dance partners
brush paint currents of breeze
against the arcing walls
they've known to soar up since toddlerhood
the great beyond backwards,
the great below filled up
with rushes of hyacinth and redwood trunks
reel of an old film spooling
faces pressed together in a bulb of owl-eyed light
then into the landscape washed eternal
of images that feel pain and vastly absorb it,
two are twirling twirling
they express the deaths of planets
when they press quietude into round spaces
with their aching heels

Deep in the craftsmanship of richened ages
they met on a long stained bench peeling fruits
the hybrid of which had not yet been ignited,
calling gulls to salt and meat of slender fish
from air's dome of high silver not yet minted
(I know an apartment I entered through money
was once their priceless cave
in the core of a city in wheatgrass
where wood and stone mated
threw open the doors of water stunned
everloving prophecy,
to pierce critics of the ages run down
with movement above time,
swung in the clock's dawn to be caught
before the granite ballroom fades to murk
send your synergy to skies that pinprick skies
and gush us out of history.

~-~-~-~-~-

Jade Comic

You invade funeral processions
your grin an elastic kerchief
on the hair of the turf
senses snapping to charcoal mahogany corners
polished to go into the dirt
and tell your little redhead nieces that
grandma's thorax has already collapsed
then weep on rough roots
take out your guitar to sit curbside
on the public grave
laughing at your family name
and lighting it up

In city hall they know your drag gaze
a whole foot taller in heels
eyeshadowing the mayor
through the infrastructure's silver
of a picture frame, skeleton loaves
and cupcake banjo mouth
of gumless teeth presented
while the pens of every clerk
ooze night-blue ink and dangle wounded
on their dewy chains
damming floods of information
while your gypsy family loots and others starve
sex rains on your torso night and day
but you never unsash your genitals

Belching winds erode
death's face on your sugar cookies
our cousin planets pulse reflected light
down streaming multiform
of your aching curvature
you visit me in my armchair of sand
or the flesh made hammock
of a lazy revolution
I hand you your cum-laced corduroys
send you down to the lake for brown beers
in bottles older than the pharaoh's tombs
you crack them smiling lawless afternoon
and send shards sparking from your molars
your careless being rooted and re-rooted
in the deep indifference of earth.

~~~~~~~

Around a Siren's Armor

We played in mud togas
black water at the foot of a factory
leaf hands slapping the current
pages for a symphony open wide
the imprint of an upturned mouth
on the plateglass of an ice cream shop
three steps from inch-mapped train tracks
milk churning crystals at work
in a fountain up the left leg to the right hand heart
everything jagged for learned love
to foam over the bridge
and burst the blueprint tunnels
with swollen meter needles in the chemical night
where nobody swears in my language
we rubbed newsprint from our chestbones
with a soft blade's knife
and let the cables exercise
the battered light one last time

before the axe on the switch
and the torch in a huge basement
eating cars while our leather and money
frisked a magnet cone out of dry air
sprayed viscera fine into heaven
and shut ruby light
in the stem's door
of a vagrant blueberry
next to its cousins the cobalt pebbles
skyscraper come to the eagle's foot
where it pins a pair of overalls
once the greased sex of a paid worker
to lie down in torment cardboard
and wake on the dock with a hospital soul
a body fizzed empty for weekdays
split open on calendar ends
when it walks bridges in twos and threes

Where it watches from sky's eaves
parchments of yard cut ragged
low green bright gold
against darkened sections of forest
the pink and violet planets are lining up
all a solar system's heat
and still your lips are frosted
a man with a large bulb lit helmet of head
picks his wife in melted scarves
from an ancient hammock
antique plastic rope tattooed twine
on her body of bodies
he turns to the twilight socket again and again
never carries a kitchen and bedroom glacier
severed horns of ram and wet blacksoil
arteries toward
the vented underlip of a mushroom cloud's
simulacrum fertilized by the doubt of death
and the gripless life we lived
in its mechanized shadow.

___________

WORLD ARCHITECT PRETEND

A crow thatched into the chainlink
dark matter drape and drizzle treetops grey
large numbers twitch the air
to collapse the lonely

Girl buckled onto black landscape
by a silver brace through her strong hair
what she has conjured in presence
she'll climb up to absence
on accumulated wire
from the depths of the world's fair

Deer deer deer deer deer deer deer
turds they leave smoking on the holy path
of enumerated cellphones, quiet as punctuation
lead to the shell ghost of their ribs
where roots mate with plastic
deep under the plans for our graves
all the basements roar with vacuumed sunlight
prophecies bulletined on public time go up in dust
to ask our bodies where they are
and though we move we do not answer
though we speak we can't say
peace built on bones, constitutions in crayon

We take the sled of this world
down a corridor a slope chased
before it shrugged into the ocean
in the depths of no religion and no resistance
follicle on follicle to touch anemone
wet streaming weeds and undergarments
bloodied on a reef
watch sperm of twilight grow
to capsize all transitional being
a drum at the beginning
a sledge and a capsule
a scalpel or an axe swung underwater

Sing
princess of the chopping block
with umbilical fingers
lands have overlapped whole lands
to pull feathers loose from metal
all the things that have been named
unidentify their captors
to fill the dictionaries of their throats
vacant with living matter

______________

BORNE OUT OF THE NATURAL ARCHIVE

Brick piles pock-painted
by active radio gulls
sea-driven or land-urged
the wings move the same toxicity

skeletons in hollowed elegance
unchanged, our floating relatives
over parking lots and vaster expanses
with the universal death palette
contributed to rain all over

Where the compass is killed they won't move
and where we have flown our machines
may be birdless
but for a few escaped images
chapels of domed digital
where a liquid metal core lofts flowerbed nukes
to teem with galleries of what
in brilliant minority
we ache to keep and have destroyed completely.

+=+=+=+=+=+

Whole storerooms of quiet
are now filled with birdcrash
comfortably the sinews pull away
from ceiling corners
to a latticework of painted milk
phony flowers
are more than beautiful enough

vinyl stems and polyester blossoms
point to an earth piled higher
above, magma of fecundity
roaring to mute

my grandmother cried in these rooms
because potpourri
had not died to scent in her hands
no matter how many thatched wooden boxes

no matter how many icicles are ignored, falling
past the windows drizzling lightspeed
squirrels impaled
to treat the treed and pampered cat
to an extra snack, if it can climb its way down

_____________

As the hemispheric belt tightens
an inner sickness is tired
of being hurried, sticks
to rooms full of untouchable people

as the dry core melts
our vertebrae climb the air
few layers are left behind, fluttering
coat-hung over the one river

the many rivers, the few we care for
we walked out on life
and forgot to shut the windows
forgot our currents
move

~~~~~~~~~~
SCAR CHART

Radiant old men in profile
beards turned to solar interference
hear a deeper whisper from the falling hail
when love finally came it was not a seizure
the fountains ran as ordained and it was a brokenness
the same shiver from root to claw
at sunspots in a thicket, parked
as firmly in their bodies as they can be
the old men don't call to the young men
but let them watch, the wiser ones
to learn the poise
as against a great current

--------------
HURRY SADNESS

Hurl me through my own door
like an incantation,
I'll find you sleeping there
in a palace of wires. Goldenrodded
the field poke panoply of eyes
out of an algae'd lake, wide
bristles of silver that are not
our friends from the plant world.
Hurry sadness to save me through
these ecstatic hours,
spreading

fiddle of cattails on rattled breeze,
telepathically I command you
to start the car, then I watch
your pink limbs climb into it
from a grey shadow weather low
in the hood of a parking garage
the lights of Boston like a whole lottery

ox-like intoxication
where oblivion fights with my bones
on riverbeds, parkbench
throughly squirrel-searched,
hands folded on a stack
of thin prophecies.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Let huge plains of rampant color
children run in the becoming of corn rows
sunflowers beaten with the chalk of a popped sun
lines erupt into faces
veins find rivers in the sea
everywhere speech is falling out of fashion
roamers wearing helmets of water
glued to a hotel door where some star
was slingshotted into being
all the numbers fall like weather
we crash into our money with real tears streaming
the moment somebody sings who is not our mother

We're gone from human knowledge
on the lake rocks lapping
up a lunar engine
through the closing eye of the milky way

Prelude to Impalement Arts

In my half world and your half world
the same street is simmering
we pass racks in dreams
looking over tides of bruising color
to see if the other notices wind
testing the windows
until the frames bend like an organ of time
expect a duck to swallow a whole river
and explode into a pile of oily dominoes.

I wasn't waiting in my infant body
to become a man, anymore
than I would wait in my sternum's rug
for death before we move and move
who cares whether it's a canal or a river,
an ocean or a mirror, a neighborhood quaking
or a barstool spinning like a hubcap
we'll slide down a vast fall of linguini
fresh from water and spice and land
on moss-furred mound of ancient tires,
spelling lives with all the arrows that have missed
until the raw forms shine through
like a shark's head in a basket of biscuits.

00000000000

Elevated lawns pick up quick stumblers
shafts of channeled rain blow the sod away

to stand there on a plank of hot cement
while daily all the plans for further planning are destroyed

bewildered with milk and coffee, by no war
lost in the presence of beloved bodies
planes for touch lost to touching

lamps under soil, garlic in the sun
stripped of earth-grown paper

each citizen stands on a separate platform
their frenzy so quiet
only those in silence can hear it
from their blood broadcast
the porches teem
with hedgehogs of annospiritual static
roaming chairs and radiant prophylactics
'til someone volunteers an open breastplate
for paws of nonbeing
to be quelled by

to lie down on grass that's never been tasted by fire
and wake up on a cum-wet cinder slab
daydreaming of a chute toward night
where one can see all happenings
freed from motion

}----WATERTORCH----{

Somewhere in the future alone
this tumult will come down
with its powers to greet me
unready

a cabbage in the dark
lips without prayer
how many vents are open
to the heart of present time

where nothingness brings on no disappointment
I'm watching the form of the neighborhood slut
dissolve into every tree trunk as a blessing
the all violet around her
the moment pods touched soil and she was playing soccer
froth of weeks or froth of years in devotion
always the same, a snapshot breaking on the nets.

>>>>>>Saint E<<<<<<

You're on a strong march
that will never end,
I can see it in the set
of your diamond head,
the way that girl said
"he looks so determined"
before dragging you into my bedroom,
while I waited humorously with wine
and gently turned up the stereo.
Body of genius, I understood,
the maker of unknown sciences,
stood in your bewildered hair
as she dragged you across
the whole kitchen floor,
the legendary strength of a girl's legs
that you were too thin to fend off.
Did you really expect me to rescue you
from experience? We gave up on that
long ago, there are no guardians
for those like us, and when in the afternoons
we watched screens and hid from the windows
smoking shit and gulping malt
we knew their spatial swords
would never reach our orbit.

(((()))))((((()))))((((()))))

Corpuscles that loosen in the spring
will open a garden on tar
roofs paved up to the faint air
runnels snoring of confused waters
winding their way down from the peaks of our babylon
where we collect life's substance in tanks
where no one swims
and send it down on lime, to spray
the faces of those who expected death.

Trim after trim of female feathers
on high drugs or removed to a clean afterlife
watching the passions scatter like ocean clad lights
into emergency rooms
the eyes windshield impaled by violin
and the ribs like chords breaking
we watch on this tanned stoop
our beards growing out through us
from the calendar that was murdered
in an old forest, where the women rested like warheads
and here they wait like switches
to torture the inanimate into perfect being.

Glycoside society mouths on rails of salt
or frozen satin towards
a silence arcing wide
for those who've never halted to listen,
doppelgangers at breakfast, in vests of mercury:
everywhere we sit among them becomes
the location of a religious service
all the ceremonies that have left us dazed are there
pillars bristling into carbide flower
to make a high play for your heart,
that word that's finally killed
the organ and the core
your heart, your heart, your astrophysical heart.

Our Lady of the Meantime

Make out of me
a song that sounds like your speaking;
let the heights come in
to these small intersections
hill path take a fuming tree
to a peak bombarded by electronic vapors
and the time-yelps of touches cut short
put movements of kids in lonely corners
tiny boats touched into slow motion
something shrouded that begs
continually to be devoured
while trays of waxy light float past

We could be in Paris, or fucking
with religious figures in the palaces of Chicago
we could be in an afterlife where all one does
is exhale
listening to a student of galactic infrastructure
threaten to bury himself
with a load of railroad stakes
or erupt like green lava
from the local radio station saying:
make out of me
a song that sounds like your
speaking you
who do not.

__________

Time-scythe, sweep further:
only you will not be commanded.
The push of tendrils in the soil
does not ache or listen.

I'll be greatly aged, to greet the body
of a woman who has already suffered.
Hack me down to a burning semi-colon:
a solid sun and one that flares
to paint with radio waves

my small room, where I keep the imprints
of those who died creating blind
those who were wept down to dregs
by their own hysteria; let me be a red priest
tugging all their gravity of manuscripts
over the urgent local hills.

In the blueprint's net
where they suffered and reached
let us make love in the manner of crows
the web of bright-wound things
we've taken offhand from each other.

ACCUMULATION BLUES

Eyes across avocado bridge
supermarket's a rustling deadfern
beings too distracted to investigate one another
seek more distraction, select bright things
to place against dull things
make some explosion seed warless air

minutes ago I heaved a car
through a pharmacy window
but I'm still sitting in it.
I'll give birth to a thousand vandal children,
just being here.

Headphones in the bones of my feet
soon so many cameras
will be built into this multicreature
that the world of eyes
will be blind from overlooking

thieves take to public places
crater their privacy deep
through the hungering earth
sleeping bag flower pods
deep in reawakening chaos

Singers in bark, living wood
flickering sapping, running
roots over the edges

shoes of fruit peel, millions gulping coffee
over paths abandoned by pathmakers
the milky way dissolved
down the scorched curve of a potato chip.

/////////

The energy of corroding hills
set batteries humming under our uniforms
dream relatives returned soaked
from imaginary bathrooms
demanding to see the hidden gardens
in butterfly half
mother and daughter, heels punching
between old roots of city forest

webs of path speckled with shattered intoxicants
the spilled life of fish on rocks
aglow with dusk-blue afterlives
viscera in flower on an unmasked apron
the day broken into a jelly around
aging footprints of swamp

You'll pass, in a green cloth
with an unringed hand
a bottle of spice to torch all others
then disappear into a slender pink door
in the repeating jukebox

Fueled by solar winds and the falling of huge pines
we clink frozen apricots together
on an amphibian balcony
marble tarring a single blade from the light
that pins our sources to their handiwork
necklaces of baby scissors floating on plastic handles
in a lost well
familiar brown ready to rot comes
down from the familiar trees

the energy of constructing hills
you'll pass by, drinking what
the engines all through the evening have unthawed
powdering the wings of illegal moths
sending them into the skylight
in little sandwich bags
and all the napkins of money
will not stop their deaths from flying.

TWO FLIGHTS OF CORPSES PLANTED

Seagulls are over the falls
from the chain-link walk it's a rush of bodies
paths found radiating pond-length yellow leaves
trunks in deep-rooted coil
sending stranded radios huge Arctic signals
towns merry-go-rounded by money and dementia
gas pump nozzles left hanging mid-air
from limbs of fluorescent cobweb.

Ice makes out its own territory
in you, in the door, in the salt,
in your rampant destruction of memory
years of garlic in your retired apron
hanging next to the men's thumped grey coats
dry as potpourri in the sprained morning.
Blandness fills up the kettles
the floor and the hallways, fever child
in a bathtub of apples. Don't tell the kid
what's at the windows.

Their wings come lipping over
a full crest clipping of water
skulls that have not read road-signs
except as color shape
in short feathers, with whatever their thoughts
a hole punched through the yellow a hole
punched through the sadness
in the kitchen stereo and a can

from the path veiled in boards
new river boiling in rocks
to flock out among the seagulls
make passage in a series
of delineated clouds, whispering fire-lost
between grandmother stations.

GILT-EDGED DAYS

Whole mountain ranges of filth
out on a long dripping limb
from a scaffold of naked house
grown men living like gerbils,
old human devices
clutched in their leafy claws,
like dirty totems.

The town is tarnished to the peaks
by dark brushes, a melted blueprint corner
allows two to escape, under a bridge of vapor,
to a cavern that does not belong
to civilization's property.

We have to believe in so much
that has already been done, just to keep walking;
have to pretend in the calamity of roses
when all we see is their outline

scripted on a string layer
of clouds behind messier clouds
outer atmosphere mushrooming in,
we sit here like cannibals
never having been cannibals.

RIVERWALK

She climbs in a huge crucifix of fallen bridges
painting the highway signs entangled there
with watery self-portraits
gathering force far behind
the ice like sperm of manmade mirrors

In sugar town she squeezed
a vinegar sponge for me
on her guardrails sheening
my white blood went
tall pillars of crib enclosing

blues and sepia came
from an earthquake in our favorite city
squatters fell out of a portal
inhabiting the clogged foot of the cross

We fed them raw sausage on wheat
peeled casing away
no condoms inside the body
all realms of angels are
a gathering of toothpicks in a jar of fluff

we lay in forks high above water
where poles for telephone wire
and fallen lives in bark converge to make
a crotch of unthatched houses
society gone cordless at the bases of our spines
where we no longer exchange
shadowed information

The two thieves at our sides
are towns whose cries we can't forgive
brickwork of car batteries
stolen from all their engines
to build a skyscraper of acid

Two masons with clay of banks
harnessed in grape leaves
with the hands melted finger to finger
of broken oars, a shrunken highway's
rubber bands from rotted broccoli
gripping to our wrists
until our zig-zag scaffolding comes down
like an earthless watchtower

dry her who doesn't want to be dry
with whatever garment of leisure floats
out the back door of the thrift
to be clothed in labor.

**********

The clutching fields

Shelves of tall square houses
rear up on slants like little
San Franciscos, I am kissing
someone away, chickadees tear
daintily into the birches. A blackness
has crept into their skin
of the news' ashes.

Events have fallen away
dreams are dry as torched tobacco
elbows hit diner counters and tables
with a sound of dying blood;
I found my phoenix here
with a lime in her claw
the sugared virgin of her drink
oils flashing from the rails
of a long train.

We discovered
that we could make the junkyards
shiver and reproduce
the many eyes in many kinds of leather.
Bills are no longer paid
by lashes of gold and silver
and money floats, as your dress drapes
there is no tense to put this time in.

Over the April sidewalks
comes your daughter future
with a fogged rain of cymbals
bent in fortune cookie shapes
from heavy metal attics thick in font
where one crept onto the window's mustache
and ate his electricity like a delicacy
to be considered
heavens are one pillar rolling rain

Neighborhoods explode into plastic
chutes where intimacies unimagined
go secretly away, in disorganized murder
we walk through it for coffee cake
laugh deep as ancients on the wired banks
of halflife rivers.

###############
THE PATCH CLAM THRESHOLD

From the upward growing lattice
pagodas made of lead travel in loose flocks
caught in the anchor rope of the rising
thinking of the town at their back
her forehead which made her eyes seem to lift
in the midst of worthless things--
into his gondola--painted a matching blue

CANYON TAIL
____________

Focused on the chastity of rocks
I was shifted by the loosening circle of exhaust
from a young lady's car-pipe.
It bathed my shoes one after the other
as I observed the rear wings of her hairdo.
I'm always watching what they do
next, and next.

In a wayward current
the habits of squirrels
cycled around bits of failed recycling:
torn barcodes of lost number-language
labels slipping from glass surfaces
in mineral whirlwinds.

They all move
like a more anxious version of the cat,
not actually biting their knuckles;
everything gnaws quicker around them.
Too quick-moving to beg,
I feel the ribs in my coat
tightening.

FLECK STAMPEDE
____________

There's no music playing anywhere tonight.
Some insane silent word clamoring in the background.
Attention severed by planetary movements.
This is how birds begin.

This is how nameless pilgrims die.
With the sign of eternity hammered into our haircuts.
Tentacles home in the sea, bewildered.
Bring me back to the place where a cat's chest fallen
knocks a quarter out of the whole day.

From here we can stare at the star-merge
of extinguished commerce.
Just hold my hand until the waves don't break.
Feel around this well we're in
until the dark stereo comes on.

THE COMING OF AN EQUINOX


She sat down at a far table.
The force of unstoppable things.
We gathered in a crescent of energy
around shimmering pasta
and waited like wolves
the wine merely drying our throats.
All the legends killed off by teachers
clamored in a corridor
one with the music of antique weaponry
and we took to swearing if she walked
the broken glass one of us would brave
the other side of the television,
in a maze of neon pipes
where nobody learns how to dance

the vines finger at open ledges
brick of the hot sun great souls lounging
past the evaporation of all hysteria
in a mist, smoking, drinking the sparse
carbons left from a broken mountain
fueled by a reflecting planet
magnet storms, and the rowing of relatives
gone insane toward green pooled light
in an interstellar nightmare
bars of high color in a horde of eyes
the orchestra of petroleum
flashing rain-wept chairs
leaving their imprints on dying grass.

Mouth of cucumber
at the tree's thick hip reaching
she got up from a goblet
we moved like a cue ball of awful minds
searching the plane she
threw dagger after glitter
through tide whirling mid in the air,
squirrels near the roots all taken for granted
cobbling small sounds out of low space
golfed a kiss into the bough
cross of light cast deep on the forehead,
the picnic dissembled in a lunar rash
our last words will break
the web under these power lines.

==============

nailed onto a clay path
soft grey sounds whip around
in slow motion bodies, solar eyes
lit up in squares, a mutant giver

pooled a low din of smooth rocks
into my last pair of hands
while heels sprouted a claw each,
imprint towards the dark white core

THE HOMELANDS OPEN AND CLOSE


This grinding and polishing
of her delightful animal head
the myriad subcatastrophes carrying a man
keep a nice, clean scientific edge between us
fringe-tipped tongue pierces the snail's nerve
harness lets the man quickly feel fruitless,
to a level beyond the lament
of an elephant in a state of melancholy

Found in the boundary layer
the gentleman, the clown, the lawyer,
rattling and trembling all day long
could never learn to rule themselves
all need to be sheared
to fight wars to maintain

In a storm, the eggs stick sound
in the predawn body moved past the workers
scripts lay muzzle on her mouth and a white blanket
hum of her snore was the tide of revolution

Laughing, smoking, or torpid and electric
the scholar, the beggar, the doctor, the idiot
clamored for war
in buildings that had long been fire
built trading posts
like frozen cobweb
and never got uncoiled.

>>>>>
POEM
<<<<<

Tonight the billiards sound
like little continents crackling
against one another's plates,
I don't even need to close my eyes.
I have a strange, familiar urge
to make a fool of myself,
to fall in love and be mocked for it.

At a table surrounded
by many siblings of wood
and incessantly pouring metal,
a group of women are talking.
I want to know
what they are talking about,
but I won't move
tonight.

I will sit here and think hopefully
of the day when I actually die:
a friend will be sitting nearby,
and then she will leave.
Me with a window alone, going.
Not the window I'd hoped for,
but more than enough; let it drain
my sight outward and outward
in sweetened failure.

I will surge momentarily, suspiciously
like a mere man, toward your chair,
and when you fill it again,
I'll have accepted my bed
for being close enough.
There is nothing on the sill's ledge,
there are many things in the sky.
I have never been alone with it; now
let me be alone with it.

_____________________

AN ATOM TADPOLE TON
_____________________

Silence let my lips fail
on the slenderness you've become
I open an antique door
you slam the shatterproof

in the holiday foliage of broken money
and movements of snail on a jewel
you put a shelf in my chest
for your trophies to ache there
I found a lock that kept torn space
on the root's tone socket
of a sideyard garden

the man who said My body
has become the body of all men
lied like a pop song to vast time
and I tell you about the boy whose head
was a determined hatchet
flipping through the continuum

he took me to a courtyard of toxic salts
radioreactivated
what I had left from birth
of my female garment
and tunneling through its alphabet
he fucked its geography open

and everybody sends each other flowers at the same time
and their tendrils splinter through each drying other
in the pelted mail.

----------
----------

for Veda

I am two dachshunds chasing a lady swan
winter soot on her wings
ice huts at the edges of glacial lakes
two sets of tight canine nuts
we're always chasing

in the hands of gone musicians
departed from our blood and our walks
breeze changes direction as if
soft switches somewhere are being touched

_______________
_______________


two pigeons on the sill between
my house and the next
tucked head to head and bulging neck
to bulging neck
the wind cut into a tall rectangle
brickwork on all sides
of the winged bodies fall
wet clumps of ash became birds
I dove in a dumpster for lipstick and banana
your face is a rotting peel
lit by jungle tatters
the river's kept locked away from that face
dodging the earthquake plan

the gray mates flap in a gloved sound
they take the whole thoraxed place
between my knees and chest
down to a closed harbor
cracking triple joints
on the belly of a birch craft
pillowed tits in a palm of each hand
thriving lower and lower
into the putty cracks and crevices
put down my mason knife
and traded pigeons for crows
electric hat crackling
all of us in love with tin
crown hair and tufted down
together falling

here comes my bald one
old in husbands
with a mint cigarette
guarding the waves in a picture frame
where they will spill out of a Saturday
she tells the electricity she's been through
the murders committed by being mute
stacked sunlight brassieres
on the body of an old junkyard
newts left tails pumping
on the long teeth of fake metal grilles
we danced a windshield

up to the low rim
of an evaporating sky
the girls in the trees
and the boys in the clouds
who no longer have conversations
two pigeons are more than one
and could be three or four
if they keep almost
kissing and pulsing
their necks like that

SAD ANIMAL NUMBER

limp,
scarred.
limp,
buds are
yellowed.

bend easily.
has lit-
tle black spots
on the florets.
limp.
husks that
are dry and/
spotted.

has yel-
lowed leaves
or slimy edges.
are
spotted or
dark.
soft or
sprouted.

has a gray
color or slimy
surface.
smells sour.
have cloudy
eyes, or gray
green gills.

THE BROKEN HYMNAL

You stand against bright fibers
to become a dark
step against the darkness
to become a light.

This is why
men beg to be let into love
and out of life
or to be poured into life
and out of love.

There has been
too much mortal hatred
expressed with tenderness
or expressed with bread;
it might as well present itself
as a mollusk sized like a galaxy
or the ugly shoe of a child
who's just now left the building
in which we stand
like a frozen clan
refusing to weep or waver.

That is why
today I wear the face
of a gravedigger
who has failed
to cover the faces of his familiars
with the ample dust of neutral earth
and I weep
for my cruelties
for the ones who touched
an air train on fire
while I sped by
in the godlike blindness
of an engine room.

You who have reached us
by erasing jungles
you who telephone telephones
don't tell us your name
this time. I beg:
let us escape
the thin hurt
and the landscape
that this language
has created: teach us to wither
like old belts of star
or lit by falling speak
the brickwork of bodies
vapors lent by love
and, very merely
the forgetfulness that remembers.

______________

Before the empty veld turned dark
my machine was vibrating
calls brought more telephone
the mercy of strafing
given in peacetime
the steady, ceaseless drift of materials

languages die in the air around a magnet
of erotic zones in the social body; it will return in the middle of summer
the patterns of energy locked in an oyster shell
or the power that harried it; power anchored
in these animals, the terminals of amorphous creatures

sexes may take turns shaping a nest which they are sent
flushed, male rises with loud metallic whir of peaks that reared up

the maps seen in the adult
born at the time of injection
being aural, just dissolve

cups and saucepans in a pail of cold rain
the waves that roll over the recorder

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

he has three birds
cut up in his chest cavity
the blue, the red, the green
left there by his wandering grandfather
whose family the ocean had never come from before
and the long chain of shells lovers punch into their walks
and the rasping curls of wind left there

she and the river take
the stems of conflagrated forests
on the sinews of a last ride
toss his condom'd soul into the powerlines
past fall and the fundraiser for cancer
supermarket banner grinning
kids imposed on airplane hangars
clothed in paint and filled with pine
the cloud is a soldier falling
who doesn't want to live this close to life

((())))(((())))

Two cultures lived students of the near-death
two cells from different supply houses
and ballet dancers also
who name themselves the terror,
fixing baths before the blue filter
in the mirror of the glass
in timber and iron
to leap the void
to a time before the future in schools,
hills, carved by glaciers, every target cell is in
the mountain barriers.

))(())(())((

the city's machines
for the death-voyage
your bones to wear down

order has totally broken android masters,
their eyes enlarge and alter form;
lacy, fragile and thin of the upper stories

shapelessness or idle shape-changing
to revolt and destroy

************

Broke down the soft furniture
put a church organ in the best window

body of gin and breath of smoke
played until you smote my ragged court

with tongue touched foot soles
and rode an armament of orchids

on the hood of a rust tank
pushed the forest in piles

for me to climb down laughing on pipes
to rip news from lumber, trying

to ignore your dress and your rarity
or feed your little dogs

at the edge of our space station
while the limbs of your sashes push me

into a copper paved fountain
to taste blood from the mantle of the rich earth

and ascend to my room, where the only vote for silence
wafts down a long chute and ignites

call me the king of magnets, attack dream,
this time I won't ask your name, you'll know
I'm a roof watching.

UNICODE BREAKER

The deep forest talon variety
you gifted on me, without buckskins
or fragrance of blood
is now a part of my arsenal:

fields through the curtain of your eye
I watch ephemera in factory windows;
blade mouths you stitched
where silence is usually kept

cord deeper than mine in this chrome island

to root me out with arms of man stammering
yarn wet from the core of a pumpkin.