.....

We ride the thinned-out hills feelers with boundary
thin rivers leave threads in our recurring instep
we brothers of rubber wheels
 and the knocking sky's frecklight
      we share on our shoulderblades
         the bucketmouth of ultimate cancers
a ditch of purple gasoline shadow folded
  up in a wallet, into a money hatchet
     back of the deadbarn ferns at the edge
          the gripping lake of monkeywrench tears
              spider's door vagina at the bronzed rear
                  of the head, of the mouth
                    explaining in music this is how we were eaten

.....

To glow a dull red or orange in which she orbits it   as a holy city
that hot objects emit light         a mist of fine oil drops   the intergalactic pact
at the short wavelength, or blue, end set into oscillation
simply too small a bundle of energy to be
the pudding model incubator
the spectrum called unending circle
the coils of an electric broiler for the outturned eye
rolling hills everywhere and the current flowing through them
folded in the golden bubble of your sun system
the more heat a body has   considered, in a mysterious way, to be
                                          replete with immense rays are not deflected into the powers
    the law of the one which governs all things frozen

.....

Orbs deflecting solar smash-up
    we knelt and remembered
       all the luminous torture
          of having been present,
             in the depths under the fireworks,
               watching changing forms of fire,


groveling for sugar stomp gummed bleachers
       in the dank factory mystic-lit roadsides
             where I follow my asshole calling:


leveling the above and below streets
      multiply in this uncandid, greed-muffling air,
         a coat hanger thief, a bad bargainer
            with the shaper of many eyes
               that stare from cliff-faces on cities
                 until the cities go out
                   and the plague of selling grows claws in a wood.

.....

If I loved you with money
    you still unadorned
      if I loved you with a nuclear army


if I loved you in falsetto
  while the incoherent applauded
    and we bowed together through             
        a curtain of static to be cut in half


if I loved you stilletto'd
  to the unknown where you walked
the rebounder's body is filled
   with blank spots, a kind
          of glitch lazarus


rising with the heat of money
 money staring at other forces in the aisles
   that bear him to a rivershelf tirepit
 budget wiggling dragon death spectacle
                    that comes with no hint
                          of the twin oceans
                             of the mercury sky, a foil
                                      torn with warnings

.....

      The hands lack oil             a huge new gateway


       zones of the world up through its double row of tapered
 the soft, feathery leaves are   heavier than the rock underlying the con
    nearly all other damsel
          the number of luminous traces on the sculptor and his assistants
             appearance of both tubes stood inside the temple


like that of a violet      the huge bronze fig
             in gargles and liniments with the gleaming marble façade of


          in charge of the depot of charts and in a circuit multiplied by


                                                                            lustrous ivory
                                                                            drapery of the brightest
                                                                                               could only

.....

I wish I could save just one being
from unrelenting sorrow, that my hands
were the vastness of imagination,
even that requiring a body,


that my loves, mired in this,
could leap out and return,
through the cleansing rings
created by their exits,
even that requiring a body,


so that the sun never loses skin
and the moon has no journey
without this imprisonment, that holds
the core to its core,
this chaos just within shape.

.....

While a second taking lens records on the end of a pole
the slanting rays of light which, coming through clouds, resemble death on the rocks
days of history shiver as if in a snow                            posthypnotic
back hairs are erected in anger and gill slits the lower edge of the paper
a lighter patch on the location of a gland that is the wish of the hypnotist
the bulb of blowpipe, the intense brown hyena buff-grey or dirty
hung vertically in a glass vessel   a layer of solvent in the vessel
plants with their strong beaks   a common nickname for the chrysanthemum
they are kept safe inside wooden boxes to protect them from dust and magnetic influences
used to make safes, ball bearings, sperm or egg
a gap separates the connecting wires and the cutting edge of various
                                                                                           automobile bumpers and door handles
                                                                                       for their extended foot can excrete
                                                                                                                       his daughter's dress,
                                                                                                                                  and the wall.

.....

     Sent warbler, drive blood of scent
     into my windowsill, into my circuitry of footbed;
           put the shape of your hair on the mantle's far sharp side.


    Where we are standing is always flickering.


     And we watch ourselves standing there
            I see you from all sides at once cutting down
         the barriers of time warp
            incisioning a dream into my clogged
 domepiece, where you sing for new furniture


      and the lust of garden statues
           drives the rain to another town
         we office escapees are a thumb-harp of clits
  diminu intuiting the spiritual headline


        that there will be a scarcity of horses
           that the market will suffer gains
                from the dream quarter.

.....

Mule cars, the clothes    the shaft to which they are fastened
                   to pass before the elect at high speed
                    more than a hundred years after the first balloons did not fly
                     there's the sonofagun commercially
                      the pipe in his teeth   bag under the worktable
                       kicked an envelope to spoil a sensible man's honeymoon
                            coursing through the coils  enough to drive a vacuum
                      one needle valve to control       a distant waterfall, a blazing reactor,
              sweeps your floor and washes enough          chines more tight   a new trinity of
                           exists of the pyramiding milking machines to automatic barn cleaners
                             water or the expansive power of the wheel equipped with blades
                                 from fans to fuel pumps, from egg time; even so, the puffing steam
                                   power and the changeover to loco hands, our backs to the long affair
                                drill or grindered years ago, if a storm set the slaves free;
                                        the fabric globes rise, the fires   with wet straw, sheep's wool,
                                                                     and paralyze myriads of machines as well.

.....

I imagine my bed is a float
about to go over a waterfall.
Something is filming.
I will be asleep by the time of the
descent, but just barely.
At the bottom there are both
waking and dying.
The ferns and the dry fallen
breeze familiar noises
to the damaged labyrinth in my ears
unreached by reality, untouched by sleep.

.....

turning the river stone over and
          over, giving it the imprint
                            of human cells,
        watching it take on
                  the oils of flesh, texture
                      smoothed
                                by this meeting, contours
      blended with light, back in the pocket
                 to age, slower
        than the carrier under woodland waves
              on the eaten path and the floodshore
                with a sweating mineral
                      close to the loins, becoming
                   a bicycle, a mover of particles
                              to be paperweighted
                    there is a hard line in you that will not be erased

.....

pulling out coiled cables:  Oh

                acid, juicy

            its name from this

              He (the burner)

                     a cover to sleep under

           Dark straw wood punches, rock drills      shears

                                  opening an envelope bag

.....

Lumina
shadow stains the multiplex
a symphonic mtn
fevering in words


Granite-numb,
diving for girders
in an ocean of unnavigable air,


Firm in falling


I picture gravediggers in a monopoly
 of caverns, polling lights, and the sign
  of a horse defecated into a numeral's
   heart.  I supply the plan horrific
     with energy, run trace to
        the belly of the sun,
          sigh and make love with this
            irresponsive violin.


 My tenants are kindling the wires.
   Light's forced on their potato alleys,
    moneyfuckheads, who can move nothing.
      Similar traces moved lilacs one block.
        Battery of clamshells in front of no cinema
           Town dropped like a key
                Under the parkway of the vast celestial

PLANETARY FAUNA/A FORMAL UNDRESSING

deciding to forgo the usual girl on top

 when the mermaid wore a shell

flipped onto her knees and leaned her against the loveseat

 and the forest crumbled into blankets

turned her head to glance to her to get inside her

 for the remembering shed at the waterfall's edge

slid into wife’s ease, and as I watched

 the promise the luna made to no darkness

thrusting into notice of my own aching

 the dawning of upper layer light

so caught up in watching arousal

 as our waiter pushed dripping emitting electromagnetic

freed to match rhythm to theirs the sun

 which are harmful engorged turned on

by what I was seeing and the sounds more

 radiation and even gamma and I was glad

when I saw harder and faster super-charged subatomic

 mainly from the outside, both on the edge,

  and I knew materials such as aluminum or plastic

   hand not stopping till I’d drained tissue at the microscopic

    ass clench and release over whole-body radiation

     while he was busy filling scream like a quiet lover

      a bone marrow dose kept pumping the edge we were all spent 

      flinging wares, mysterious instruments on the city surface

    up his pants out the door, not wanting

   masking a long parade    employees out of our room

    in the morning through a smog of open earth

  bed, both fully satiated after only two days
 smoking in terror

.....

There are leapyears
     lost under me,
   whole calendars in murk
       where the eyes go sinking,
    women in a hedge
            around my bed,
         a lurking instrument
      that cowers when my memory
                                 kicks in,
       and so many fathers and mothers of
           industries that will not survive.


I go without searching,
      without prying, with so many
          limbs windmilling
                       in my limbs
  that subsiding is impossible,
       but without favor, and
  without tact, I hem the fever skyward
                                        lacking a garden.

.....

Ding  polyps are the long ones, thin tentacles that catch any immortal animal
      stubby and shaped side the urns little buds


          brain is dead if only bombarded with radio brain death means
                                                        past of cold chicken and wine electroencephalograph
                                                     down ordinary daylight paths, arcs spring from tube to tube


                young female corpses have been himself: he topples a huge statue
                        the sound of a language he cannot understand
                                 extracellular, hesitantly, he reaches out        to atoms

.....

The ice fish wife-murderer
                    cat in the alcove

                                           to control the lights
                                           the problem of seats and windows

                    a semi-transparent body
                    a puddle of molten metal
                                                                         two common mechanical

                       the acetylene hour, or less.  Was there any reason for light during the day
                                    will the despoiling screw on the front of each
                                                            fire, the unexpected extinguishing

                                                                                               a hard, glossy shell charismatic
                                                            mad monk which is pitted and grooved

                                    father to son                    their shells litter the ocean

.....

Ocean is laced and interlaced
           both sides for four pointed atolls


                         the universe was water
                  intermixed blocks of graphite, uranium


   thousands of pounding hooves felt I could defy the world
           shooting holes in a painting of cows as metal sponges


                               twisted together and stationary    set into marbleized pots
                 with the line wires ridges and fracture lines running at 90
                                                 eight countries are located in a slick
                                                   machine, spinner heads wind the wire for the barbs




                      flattened antic crustal plate


                                 the bristle of the wild oat   the transported floor

....

Rock dove                the gears turn a core


        copper-lined freeway    white of the eye


                  reel of tape and the take-up       behind the melted metal


         double-frame hammers          waving their flagella


                   bordering on the lid-slit         to the edges of the end sheets


                       signatures are sewed together           radiant energy is also


                               leathery rockweed held fast by disks         two red-eyed parents


                                      another sexual plant               lifting water from the earth

.....

Ice-cold tones in the world of
                               black and white,
    fidget infinity, the curtain between
                                                   continents
        beard of mud    looking out
          at              his love's glow
             abandoned.  And the film reel crackles
                                                   like a wave.

Led into distance, by a silent mob
                    to the outskirts,
                                 lightning bolt walkers
       frozen to the borderline by Martian
                                                         salt.

The strippers of mind gravy, jokes on a train
     the people that people the breaking of rainfall
     fingerdeep in the glowing cracks of the
              lover's skull, the Louis Sullivan doorway,
    the grandfather skeleton around   our lingering
      love  and the torch bearer of lichen messages

bringing hell paste to the face  of a flapper silhouette
 dragging all the daggers of the sea
            over  them  dining  room  over  them
                 cattle tramping the bedspread
         curtains rent soundless by money cinema
         the dementia among the fallen pinecones
   the longing at dim ancient mirrors
                         to be snapped, to have taken

.....

With my mother's left elbow attached to my nervous system,
            and various configurations of those with money
           who come against me with ferociously grinning presence,
      bifurcating my non-soul with existing desires, flared
                                                                              into ketchup,
    into groggy dishwash, inghappy in the mouth of the radio,
where an incantation is measured by units of consumption, here are
                                                        pine trees, fall down and
                                                          worship, them, etc.  Wolves on
                                                                                                     paper
rubbed from a tomb-wall,  running
                 faster each second history paints over
                                            them, with my father's brow
                          stupefying my mouth and eating
                                                               blood, the obstacle
                                                                 spiral very much
                                                                                    intact.

.....

Cliff-cusp   blood's rust on the gills
   fissuring the blind water
           as some glacial pebbles go
  time belt breaking along horizon
        sweetens descent,  the concrete bath
     eyes darkening with plunder


           doorway basement,  mind-leaf
                veins atrembled a bead of water
                    toward the hull's split
     the planet mouth opened they rose in dense clouds
             the deranged miracle planet hoppers
                a ring bark borer convenience store
                      clock's interference staggering
lined with dry grass.  The
young are ugly-looking
caricatures

.....

Into the stigmatic
    a single flower.  235 lunar months
feed on buds of guncotton in pools of water
 two separate, isolated coils
                                                           wound on the same magnetic iron core.  An
incubator hangs on all the walls and sits on all the desks (in the cathode
skin grows over the surface of the negative terminal.  The electromagnet
    of a dry cell.  A horseshoe shape pain of a gash in his finger invented smokeless powder


 seaweed to the sequoia ether and alcohol--that reduced the searing heat of reentering
             man-made fabric yellow-green gas on her dressing table.

.....

The house a setting of gardens, and the thin eye bar is black.
  Cloudy crystals and blood red seeds on the crowned and pilastered front door; the woman
       is present in soil, water, minerals and the age of synthetics.

 The bridge of a submarine stands striking a mirror of trees we call maples.
     Glory opens by the clock; he inhabits, runs the elusive entity by grace of thousands
        in open water above.  This protects the dormant opening in the bony brain case
           and a layer of huge patches great factories of the modern fourth pound of fabric.

   Automobile housewife squeezing berries for hundreds of years as a wrapping for perfume
        with plasmid vectors slender and the ears large and naked.

    He is grayish-brown streaked with the intraspecific killing, the exit holes to the sea.

DIVING BIRDS AND DOOR OF COLOR

      Blood is the mortar.  Turquoise, defying envy
           that powerful yellow belted with a broad red
          to this house.  Firmly clasping bright lights and glass
 the noblesse of its legs to the ominous rope, thankful in the middle of
                       boutique slap bang bellow of a bull alligator and the evening cries
     to shake out the water.  Then,


                        The empty capsid of the phage is left as a laugh, large head, and doggish appear-
                                                                                            ance as the earth pig


               bones are closely united            and the systems within
                                                       use  a tiny electric-impulse of its many lives


                             to detect those pebbles that fastened to the still-sound parts
                                   sew the dead into shrouds with sheet-metal.

.....

at that moment
   when man has dug for himself
           the most narrow hole,
 so as he smashes his head on a random ornament,
      a ring blade, a dust star,
  and re-opens the tiresome mystery of himself
    and falls under it cursing
        with music and with tax forms,
             with so many holes in his consciousness
               for his debts to fall through, that
                 saplings and electric towers bring him
                 to an upright position, limber with confession,
                  until he weeps on the pornographic globe
                               with a file in his lips
                                     and a plan for an invisible escape
                                        and a chainlink valentine
                                                on the heart of the sun,
                                            a steaming paycheck,
                                     the rocks in the distance where he fell
                                          the hissing of long beneficent wires.

.....

a lone crow stabbing
  in the backfields
   with nothing shiny to catch his eyes


          his blood on the level of his brothers
            his plane unpierced in spite of pecking
                 every meter to breathe at the sky


     earth's own prey in the beak of his mouth
       the ground snoring not through what he has eaten
          sleep on his tongue from a sun-source
         a beaming white
                        cloudbreaker


    the layers of the trees at his far sides
     and under the bone-skin feet
      stalks of chewed and muddied gold
                  in rainless beams
              his charcoal and senseless senses
                        tail feathers the sister of a shadowdance
                  bent
                    glanceless as I bike past

.....

 Someone is counting a key alphabet
 with ironic fingers
 in cabinets that encircle the skull, the rafters
 someone inhabits all those who imagine them
 with the magic of the practiced


 dripping with extra limbs
 someone is shutting a poisoned door
 and the agent of all these
 is smiling not to open it


 over the film-blasted hills
 they tunnel the air with dialogue
 fight immaculately
 in alleyway after alleyway
 and balance a knife on their world
 while another knife watches.

I fall asleep in the bathtub imagining water tanks on every side,
and particles raining through the dream-lagged air
where they stretch for miles, gurgling transparently,
their pipes in the earth.
The swamp tendrils of a galaxy's future bloom
extend from every gland to join
the arabesque superimposed
of civilization upon them.
My thoughts on the ceiling stripped,
the sun reddening and making some new gambit,
I wake up in the bathtub and every raining particle
sprouts an ugly market.

.....

 From one young newt As the egg divides,
so much glass was impossible; lenses, housings, clouds of marine
 kinetic nations open up to us, we re-enter the kingdom flooded in light
 a vivid greenish blue a speeding bullet and a splashing
                                  drop of milk a safe and stable flashbulb
 yellow, orange and green weight to turn a miniature paddle wheel
       heir to every action of ultraviolet vents, hot springs and geysers,
torture for prophecies--the notochord and somites
       the gray crescent in the newt, the drum back and forth the drum stop rolling
         a print between time complete with spinal column like a necklace of coral
          head, trunk, legs and tail branching organisms, then into sand
         derms, crinoids, asteroids, and ophiur white, black, purple or variegated; their
          beam of life, daily coming and going makes the gases dance

.....

I am filled with a million voices, perhaps too many.
I am unsure of the century.
I am undead patter heading into the silverware.
I will be the Netherlands of space itself.
My ship of weights will bend matter and place burdens.
My headgear is moving into thatotherarea.
Come around the corner of the idea and make room for the cream bath.

.....

Shelf upon shelf of dwelling-places
                            in miniature,
cubbyholes punched in space-time, groaning
           our cities mature the shade trees and gardens the driving and the driven members,
           our body to start an eye in our face traps baited with food and water
            entering the windless mist nets, drugged bait, jack lights, foot snares
             whose legs he had put silver threads returned


                The ratio was nine :  three  :
   three  :  one  (nine plants
   yellow seeds; three with round and green
             three with dwarfness and yellow
   and one wrinkled

.....

                      Its bones soften, its flesh rots, spoken in revolution
with deeds to live by to this day--its skin falls off and death follows within


                       to the folklore of a body double he called his pineal door
                       in the dead of his first axis in the center of the ring I was powerless,


                       one last glance around and reentering his body back home
                       the girl of his projection of a magic wand--or a sledge hammer


               who and she quite properly held in a vise in my brain his family doctor
                              whereupon young to my toes and back to head, a great roaring oscillation

.....

Drum corners and through walls from every direction--


the half is now halved and halved again
him to the earth itself buffeted by stimuli
from the forces holding each individual
the very large size of even the smallest piece of material


seize pamphlets ink with wet
from between bricks cast by a light
from the sky brains
from the thoughts that control the weather
in your guts     in your cemeteries
and all the stumps which my tarnished marble was not born from

.....

    glamour, down to fur-trimmed pencil
     dumb show the electronic team now added
a throne room of earth
       the carved figure of a horse
          priceless blueprint to the vast electric
               whole warmth of the human voice and violins, the sound
           a revolving cylinder that plays them into a photoelectric gray in the picture


waiting metal arms of rooftop
 sharks whose mouths are under the head
  the spread of water hyacinth
designer's grip on women
the airship an oil-rig the laser beam a power station

.....

A clothesline of nanoblueberries
 flossing through the body ecstasy of
expert flesh of the near future
     hosed down in the labyrinth
  of the waiting who fidget with blanks
     electric information wristed away
  the tiles floors blazing queen blazers burning
polyester adrip on plastic creases
    hot metal rods long with melting hangers
  terroramory in aisles blazing with windows nudged out of the wood
  the fallen neon breaking up on a total slide of information
  fallen parkbench, sagging wire, rusted ballerina
       snagging a punctured form on seasonal tooth
   each rickety hero finds a piano bench
     sit simultaneous in the thunder
        of the mushroom cloud shadow master
      speech as long as a lizard's graze
          pineal cum trickling into his unibrow
             ask verbal wit eating balloons to imitate
          a water tank, put his ear up to the engine's flank
             watch his face erupt away in the resurgent light
       which tasted fences on its way
             and through his telephone and fish plans
           famished rapist of the nectar queen
          under the pool burlap against the rabbit rivers and diamond borders
        turning codes into lightning
                   liquid turn to configure coupling
               china broke like an egg's Neptune weight
     Oscar green Oscar blue cat's whiskers
             and winebottle drift on a mass, claws mind
           the think shanks of the doorway
                a clothesline of nanoberries
                ecstatic flesh of the near future

.....

    A leaper, in spite of herself, all that
kitten compact black and silver moving
         the universe scans, again and again,
                   until her silhouette is the movements of all trees
   the hypnosis of its sex the cage of a blind instant
                                            adorned with flowers and traces
                             entwined and widely,      with lips,
                               a leaper, not unblinking the
                                  soft territory of life


    (open)

.....

    When the bubble casts off
              a god's clump of houses
           and sea graphs turn to hard land
                 under the sadness of the young
               early burning or the icicle
                       stalagmite of pure eyes
                      from the ceiling of oh fuck
                           to the floor of the fathomless


imp's voice depths of book without sugar
           imp's depths of book in a quiet night
             and the big nothing nodding
                        with all teeming it's gathered
                               dynamited channels of determined tar
                           wet alleys dripping a railroad of fire escapes
--heeding curvature, and motionful--neverwavering:
                     taller than hell trees

.....

The song is telling me I walked past the lights and they said nothing.
A hideous roadmap of blue veins.
The energy of radio is broken by an ahistorical crinkle.
The whole subway station of burnt nerve was already there.
You're telling me that the song is a sword between us auto side-by side,
that it shows you a directionless taper.
That the slipping lines never collide with reality.
That these seatbelts are bungee cords
that nothing can throw us loose without bringing us back.
The vacation in a blue jet landed on a salt slab airway,
led to this engine
itself tailing.

.....

A freckled mass
a ship of whirring tigers
nine tenths of the law
an atom of Sunday
four lashes for the separated creature
can-opening the soul's alarm
clock of all evaporated fantasies
to the toppling moment
when the river eats numbers and paint
when the missionaries are murdered by other missionaries
I will be staring from a small broken library
smiling from the niche of my hell
with my hands on the secret skeleton of a calorie bible

.....

 love billowing through time
                          catching an imprint
      here              there
                here
planetarium of streaks
                 an orbit paints past
       and the halved units speaking
            to jumping rice, and a field
             the blanket of life unfolded
                                         in a dying sun
  ecstatic the leaden slow rhythm
          sex muzzled in winter's breaker
             and the dawning of twilight gas
                  on the perimeter hills

......

 From the pit               washing away


        rock that walled it in cast cool shadows, and polished to a satin
                     ivy on drainpipe plasma drips into the tubules
        blood of the bull, the follower of brackets for handrail mould


                                                                    These light rays the water unfurls
                                                                     nothing shall bar the lesser part words are
                                                                     or reaping angels who shall come to distort
                                                                     shall carry


 The river, trout are active all through the geyser area
          a hammer, pitons, spring clips nylon tape


        As the day ends we have never been able to photograph
                                gulls flock close to catch their evening

.....

 pinning machine power by waterwheel
           black blight over
               spread a reekin
      drink its blood the lion in a place of honor


        The sharp-shinned last uninhabited regions where man could
              wherever there was coal to heat the boilers
    his larger brother seized it and tore it away from the crows


           Blood rites have remained drunk either fresh or
                     drought or nomadic migration


                     less than half the cost of horses for the same work


           with faith, philosophy and mystery people drank blood to gain


          black-and-yellow Rocket, winner of the sensational power of cotton
                   from the clockmaker from a barkeep friend


         Their smokestacks and slums their steam engines
                 pastoral streams and financial help

.....

 A drip in the lower kitchen
  waterworks of a newworld
   falling through every papered wall
    to the void flowers medicine of daylight on the rubber lots
     flash mob of forgotten orgasms
      a cliff-face climbed by magnetic paint
       studio of the half-convinced   with authoritative poses
        nude in the wax collaborative
         hair pouring with crinkles of white light
          high shelves of identical pillows
           in a bookless dream
            orgy of pasta touching pasta in a sonic rivulet
             stems spurt on the background sky
              the sheen of a photograph   disrupted by fiery existence
               lips on a thump-tip fawning
                narcissus in the side mirror
                 beard taped to the windshield
                  the volley of separate elevator sounds
                   and the organs all snoring internally
                    rounding the twin sparks of faint existence
                     in a figure eight the twice-pierced omega
                      to vaguely respectable figures
                       I was a molten recital in your parlors
                        slouched on a stool dislodging  your little cities
                         your glass conversations   and in the morning
                          I walked scorched alleys and observed
                           bright black tar in yellow truck beds wet
                            vivid poison   agent of nothing in particular
                             I sent myself out.

.....

She has a machine that heals with sound.
I vibrate from brainpan to tailbone to feet's arches on the linoleum.
And it takes me to hospitals in a gentle future,
rooms where leaves rattle harmlessly against the glass walls
and the furniture rustles like a living creature.
Error is elsewhere, in the mansion of fading lovers.
My head comes off like a concrete pebble.

SANCTUM SANCTRECTUM

The soul is cutting garlic into imperfect rhombuses.
A painted ceiling is lower than before.
The knife has survived, stereo speakers are making
footnotes on a manuscript in the basement.
The soul is the body once it's learned to count.
The soul is a complication of breathing.


An alien within an alien, on a familiar globe,
with a triangular headdress, that one lunar world
heats with a numbing thought.
The soul is a sarcastic priest,
with only two pairs of shoes.


In the salted territories, squirming
on more than one bed-memory,
more than one bath.
The soul is related to math.


A ceiling with hieroglyphs is extending
into the walls.
An apartment is built from a smaller flame.
A mortgage is a bonfire
a house is a pyre for the senses.


You pay for death hotly, you pay for death coldly,
large birds and small snails are making noise.
The churches are closed, the museums are open,
the bars are explored to the bathrooms,
the soul has no schedule
and advances.

ORNAMENTAL FIRE

Adorned with the drapery that gunlight caught,
 form cast on an orb ship galaxies fucked
  into transparent existence, planet lands on planet,
   screens form in the witnessed sky,


 my nymph with an axe cuts the anti-umbilical
  cord to the wax church pumped with slime
   that rides barren hills in a scaffolding of dried white shit,
    and has no tower


and in ornamental fire, love comes blazing without a framework
 to fuel wells with earthen water, cannot be held, cannot be kept,
  granted in time, it ties the knots inside the climbing fists, amusical wrists,
   that cause music


In tumbling neverthelessness, chords throated through a tapestry of cells
 in the goblet of broken atmosphere, lovers of earth for new earths,
  to ferret around on lank cages, through tubes from infinity's plastic,
   to gather on fiberoptic rafts and burn calendars, to minnow past faulty suns
    in a death-copped instant.

.....

The form's silhouette,
 and the magic nature of dissolving
 which we crave and surrender
 to grey light, to waking
the molten black, the cooled figure


a huge cat, looming on floorboards,
 chest-bones rippled by outward light
fails to recline on my horrible memory;
 a hangover, a woman


puts me at the terrible crest of my illusion
 and it sticks to nothing, then riots
within everything that is barren,
 parsed out by inexorable sadness


the total terror of white afternoons
 where nobody is watching
  with eyes, with eyes that have broken totally


 and to see

    taken by a gliding feeling,        reeling in a lot


       ass on a stump of years spreading               chained open






            every tank of light is closed off       by     lashes of money


hurt the self, fall on a wire      new to the only sun          the dripping of


 blood on glass     the singed piano     striking up the rhythm of the floor tiles




        taken by a striped and impenetrable feeling,      hands on a long row of metal carts




 for the money that wafts from the sky      for those who lovingly control it


   for the chlorine grin at the pharmacy counter telling a lie to the air


 sting the self's shadow, taste its resemblance          fall down in the depths of


     grandma's garden

.....

She paints in purple and tan the tearing of a body
psychotic lovemaking in a tunnel of leaves
smashed sirens lost in their hardware
staring elements into the river computer;
and stunned by their own laughter,
a wing-caress
a janitor's cardboard fortress
and he was her father of wide grey thirst
endless yellow pink  red
a free wind over the old neighborhood
where a nude is fighting another nude
and nobody is welcomed into the crystallization
but it glows to happen
atop every periphery shining
their hearts are making blood move and that's all

.....

The moon is a sash on the hearth of a dead map
The sun blazes under a cemetery
Out in the world of jobs and harnesses they bottle reason
I'm hanging from a ceiling's corner in a sling of catgut
The mirrors won't leave me alone or float
An imaginary uncle shares my face for years
I forgot how to get up unfold and make lunch
I cringed in a chair of dust
Imaginary governments kept an eye on the less interesting
The orifice of bright and dark multiplies in celestial gaps
No newspaper of the future shows the faces of my telephone's grandchildren
Tiny prophets scream pop in the fireplace
I am undiminished by history
My future's with unanalytical manwomanman
Don't touch the brick's glow until it blips its replicas into existence
Or melt into sex information on my doorstep
We are waiting in the nuclear ballpark
For intergalactic teams to fumble points against a gel bulletin
For the gods of meteorology to finish their cones

.....

Snow-sun, irreparable earth,
limbs linked in leather
driven with eyes to the banks,
the bowl-sides of town-planetarium
to the bulk of larger planets,
searing through thin layers of lesser stars
tin forks of battered cities
alleyways of accidental warmth
in the mess of civilization
where our bellies heat blood
for one another


Micro-town, a cell's existence,
tremulous to split the botched highway
where life makes way for murder
and a smashed hotel divulges one vibrating bed
nudged electric down the avenue
where we lay down and ride
to be rented by light
to be born from water


roads lower than the ocean
where our motors choked on music
we stepped out of antique doors


and took sight of each other, moon leaf wing
the pause of unstoppable things

.....

Genius has no memory
and the soul registers from the mundane, from the purging that
begins to look schoolmarm


slugs into his face slugs into the officer
fragments of a creature now called little pear, then


rock shows forms of man that the murder occurred
replacing the chord called spirit


each interglacial period--the time body they came from
bones of a child killed by the religious frenzy of the ghost dance


water consciousness flat-faced, fuzzy-cheeked, but he commanded
suckle their young change to a vertical face


cemented on the slide with balsam electron

.....

From a bulb or underground as otoliths in the inner ear
even in cracks between stems and on leaves high
from his mouth and it was bright the body of the legend
strips of light on temple walls, in the colossal, belted globe


The flattened claws from the grave of 400, 000 kinds of sound
to rest in crow fashion to overthrow his father


A slitted disk was attached to the scribe's arms
and made the dead person come alive again
lean, tireless, and striking an electric arc


A cord of tissue extends from a small water pocket
his bullet-mould, ball-screw, wiper, awl & with a gun-stick
when blood has delivered tight ovens called retorts blood cannot return
blasting garden flowers and grasses and dulling razors


Spells fall from septa, or walls, holes or cans or chambers
horsetail black-eyed susan deerhorn ferns
subkingdoms in the center between the corolla

.....

Light-years light-years
cuneiform wrapped in smoke
the blush in your eye
the water in the steam tubes, waves in the open ocean
rounded and pitted rocks nested
the chugging engine, before a rail broke the cloth that covered


there is a thin band of green, of lapis blue, and of indigo
bones, shells and teeth fingers to man-made brains
the beasts of lightning in higher layers
for the ballet, fine silver in the solar wind


on the drilling deck iron colts tore up rails, exploded, set fire
this group this night is a golden-white light golden-white light
the head is crowned coins rest on the eyelids--two to three earths
dashes and various matrixes as sacramental tokens of
stored on magnetic tape and replayed
the water becomes too great

SHE SLEEPS WITH A HAMMER UNDER HER PILLOW

She sleeps with a hammer under her pillow.
Her son was a small torpedo.
When she releases her ponytail her eyes grow three sizes.
Networks of electric re-creation are all her ceilings.
She knocks them closer to the sky every time she sits up in bed.
Her mattress is a little airport abandoned by civilization.
Phantom mechanics make threatening noises in musicless hangars.
Her solo office faces a molten seaboard.
Her keypad smokes under small intelligent hands.
Once a month we visit her shower and she melts me back into my height.
I can see her nibbling a cool sky-corner that has fallen from the wallpaper.
It turns into the skin of an unknown fruit when we press it between us.
The walls cocoon and bristle as the bones of airplanes crumble like salt
in the unheard outskirts.  And when we part like lovers
she strides our reincarnate sight through the alien city,
my eyes shining out of her.  And her breath fills my prisoner legs
until my history is mute with gladness
she reclines on the light in my head.

.....

In man-made rigid hulls would you taste the roar
Of a fold within the rearing tanks
With a slow flow of airstone
With a silvery sheen to the eyes and abdomen
Through which a pulse of light flashed more zones of the grey scale
Orange blossoms and buzzing bees raspberries and clover
The thermometer expanding in wood


If someone called to you, would you hear him make models of water?

THE RED ROAD

From the roots to the floodlight meters
through the stems to the near-by buildings to the human face
yesteryear dined on an oil well in the earth
any air-breathing animal a prism compressed by the surrounding


by the sphincter muscles of some sunlight
antistatic rubbing and biting lasting many hours
to swirl about your fresh-cut sound waves in the enlarger's egg
pressed by her luminous, averted turbulence-damping shapes and doing no injury


the tinted glow gone from the sky of honey
colors disappear; the world including an adult pair
becomes a pattern of black butter.