.....

     I love the bell
      that rings and rings in you
     Incessantly, until someone is compelled to laugh,


     How much the cord just blurts when it is elongating
                   what the broken planets multiply
        And that molten in favor, their
             blinking service, too many lips
                 and petroleum surging against time
               heart's column of
                        burnt neon
                   when did you fall away
                 when did my voice melt
                                             tiredly against
                        your graven cheek
                       your pick up strings
                    upward on the lichen cemetery
                   we make the frantic a mop
                       to whirl into suds
                          time arrested catches
                            up and calls
                                       A given name

.....

I want to drink your honey from the first moon
the many pennies all turn into wells
                                       each one
                     is a metal unbound
with the void at my back and a vegetable counting
    to wire the clock with tomato
      sound dummies on shore
                           lightweight hands
      leaving the chirp's stir
                       ache of narrows
                  out of the morning


The void at my back your lips parted
       hills flaking my instep
      discarded shoes and airplane hangars
    the one incision of time breaking down

.....

How were these fuels made candle ice
bird form--her comb and her mirror
beds and precast concrete piers abbreviated white saddle
gill rakers on first arch anal rays


world was talking of her   their terror of the sea
snap off the tough outer leaves  trim the spiny
without a soul she has no other half of egg distress
             to the peak) to the run (the distance

A STORY OF THE GODDESS

    With one's whole body, as these dancers


    Nowadays her husband, a sea scorpion
       an equally fervid stabber
   the world has its legends of life
 a great feast and festival
                      the rhythmical movement of the nymph


    The girl became
    world voracious, and impotent


with a wild temper, she keeps watch
           her one eye over the mammals
                 her severed fingers sprang from her body transformed
        gauze and a black backcloth towards humanity
the chief deity of the lower autumn people
   an armless woman with whom she shares the arctic
    and there she still dwells, keeping this ballet without music
                                                                       from shaded bleachers


                                                                  far north hold her honor

.....

Wheat milk poison ivy metals paint
blood from his mind
everything else that stamps him destroying the rest of the person
a liquid to uniform    without auxiliary towers


                              He told the nurses to begin spill-
    ing food on the woman's dress; the nurses, at
    the same time, inject stings mold medicine
                                                                 ailanthus
                              that the buoyant force exerted on a body provides the strength of the law
                     heat pressure light


                     Closed spaces, open spaces, high places


              dust cats, flowers, dirt hair perfume smoke
                  a woman had walked from the prison seal into the path


                                ragweed       the snake in their laps without assistance


                                   air hammer,        the posterior open

.....

Open my headlamp            simpering unit
    touch raving steps toward grandeur
      in the forms of woman and man and trans
        bubble me over: redefine
      dim galaxies that have gone hunting
             and can't talk back.

.....

Something curled at my brow
     cannot release my thought
 and my body clacks beneath it
      a dull bell pierced by vapors
 while a church organ automatic
             is pushed across subway rails
    we in the half-dark carry our light
      in the form of so many struggling medals
       the soul of an igloo
memory of a task performed by thousands
and the fleshing out of cheap scenery
           to become greater than the world

.....

With your fixity of tumescent passion
you adjust hotly burning things,
                touched by ice-fire too
 in the tidal run of your tour
         in the grass lands
                     in places of sand
                       where our thin alphabet
        is engorged
                  with lifeless fruit
         the dawn a road sign
                      with the windows of a gun
            pine scent under bridges
                  and in the remainder
              of sunken twisted houses
        a kiss near rattled teeth
             the earth missing

LAMB'S EXIT

                                                                                 Ink blots finish phrases
         the pitch-black, star-studded ceiling designed instruments
a sinuous ridgeline five miles long juts out above a blacksmith in his world to a sandbar
  with the crescent's tips or cusps pointing inward invisible, curving from one magnetic citrus butter


              He is so good at killing rift valleys that bisect the country by gastric juices and gravel
                            scratched by landslides until his girlfriend cut him down
                         the integrated circuit's sound body overlooking various cardboard fig backgrounds
                               tests might require him who replaced him
                
                         Brow ridges and broken, battered skull scooped out among the rocks
                                                                                                                revealed in mosaic
                                                 the fragile and rotted bones of a ray of sun
                                                    rocks in the stomach flower for the dead            even the orca

.....

Sponges were doing their work
I was a background squishing
into the salt of life the quick terror
and adjusted to the silicon of the sun
I worked a battle into the eaves and could breathe no silence
divine freedom of error tomb wet with skin

.....

An animal like a sponge of Arabic numerals
shapes and pipe for general use beyond the systems
these sacred places of gods and weaponry
still-fish for flathead lack food and cover the safety of the elevated road
such incidentals as clothes, glasses, watch and wallet against the ridge at the top
may be earplugs--worn by the snorer's spouse.

......

A healing missile aimed at the earth
to transform fibers beyond being
to stack amber on amber
in the aisles of other stretched colors
to never curse life again
in the orbit where it fractures

.....

for Margaret


 I want to walk down an empty five-lane highway with you.
  To see with you the radiant doors on both sides
    that are not there.


When the molten, inevitable traffic comes
 and we have to trade our faces for theirs
 we will still have a secret webbed between us.


 That which we cannot relinquish
 because it is hidden within
 and cries for mercy from itself
Which it cannot give.


 I  want to take your hand in the sprawling ooze
  of endless neighborhoods.
   Watch the twilight turn to a slit
      in your honey of forepaw.

.....

Code symbols in nearby hardware stores
of domed cities pounding results
awash in the violence of marriage


grilles in the walls, veined outlets flush
double reeds by the chamber or tower
noise of the plant cells  arc-fit pipe notcher


smoothly sculpted contours strung on rods
or wires set into strips by pieces of wood
curtainscreen and glued


in a glider with rainbow-colored fringes
through a small hole in the door denuded
a military highway can go into a basket or cloth bag
valleys so green can easily be polished to an imperfection

.....

We can't hide in the green shelter
   watch geese with a clean eye
       torment the electric scaffoldings
         or fall into edgeless water:


           something bonnets our skull fragments
 close cloth to the ears of botched head by a sidewalk
         gliding in cities imagined
        by leaves on a wing


    we aren't able to uncloak
      what goes over or under
        our silently trans heroic bridges
        of cock and dark marble
        what flows through blood that we can't capture


           in dust the struggle of invisible liquid
             makes a smooth a fragile imprint
                                                               and the dusk glows in its
                                                                 chipped-off bit
 of triangle sun


            this threshold to be  crossed singly
                                            what is it?


                wood falls
                     the blade speaks years through a handle

.....

The corpse is water alive
                         while harp and gray
                                        soothed by heat
                                                        milk to form
                                         one endless iron hoop to encircle
                             the point where the river withdraws to a cooler
                                 forged at an angle to match the dish of the burials
                                          with his left hand with a hot iron with a loud voice
                                         the insane were whipped as a floorshow
                                            the proceeds going to unwindowed keepers
                                                   a frog in a colewort leaf in a new earthen pot
                                                                              between the two panes
                                                                                                unable to sweep

.....

bottomless without a thread
 he who wears the name assassin in my skin
                                                     to block the country of the air
                                                       from the country of the ground
                                       his pain in my stead, unwanted
                               how footsteps crack the palm


                                     history falls off of me
                                               and anoints others to talk
                                                   their colors into me like lead
                                         and waves me in the ocean's face
                                              like a strangled traveler


                                     bottomless without a thread
                                                on the nothingness of progress I ascend
                                                      soup, an asteroid

LANDINOSCOPESCAPE

                              At the broken apex
where green leaps up from the concrete border
   the way I see John with a microphone
sanctified by sky-flakes
        brought down on an amplified trailer
 by the torque and the thrust of his voice
when it is a catalogue muffled within
               it is stronger than light


How he doubles himself
     anti-tuning fork in a public room
           the instrument in sunlight and in
  damp waves, dense machine reverberations
        beach tangle of fiber optic electronic seaweed
             brother of thuds, of soft escapes
                               amp-mouth ratio
              life-gatherer peering out of a well
                               to the vaster water
                            a mast of woman
                        and a bladeless anchor massive with tongues
 casting lines from the sun's tow-rope of earth


             a tabernacle'd garage, bass-strings
    El Greco, naked mannequin dance
               standing on hips at the drum's heart
                      from which the door flung him back
                                                            and now the canvas takes him in

.....

darkness ridden into damp light
         broken harbors of sky
     zig-zagging wings that have no life
                  doorsteps into basement
                           house sheared off by a mineral flood
      smokers on telephone office entrance
                  coughing a streetlight bulb into thought balloon

.....

Batter into a useful shape the nearest quartz deposit, with the bodies tools that argue
 echo sounding in time of peace deep scattering layers     
   yet all store the salts which give bone violently with both hands by the size of their ears
    to the weld in front of the flame while shoreline defenses, lighthouses, dwellings identify
      the owl swivels its head, eyes glow in the beam bone cysts, benign giant anchovy, magnetic tags
                                                                    artillery of observation  apes in light many times
                                    as narrow canyons, food chains grunted warnings of an artificial afterlife
                               lethal scissors and mineral deposits
                    needles breaking down the edges and the side walls
                                                                                    the acoustic rocks

OUT OF TRANSLATION

for Kevin Smith


I walk right here on the street
there is powerful knowledge
in my deoxyribonucleic acid
so many passers seem
absorbed in apathetic particulars
related to the worst of the moment
that my heart is hard to believe
and regardless it lifts me up
knowing the coming radicality of change
when we will not be here.


When all the dissolved mantles
give way through our upwards
to the whole lake of antimatter
and we find the fumbling of our tongues with foreign languages
reflecting barrenly on the faintness of our own
and the mind and the hands of the mind
fail at rescue
and the whole project of human affairs
is more taxing than the idea of nothingness...


These days I don't believe in narratives.
I don't bother with ideas.
Planning one's existence is ruthless to the soul
and we all try it, relentlessly.
I want to give up on reality
to stretch my arms into another dimension
but instead I jerk off
wash my kitchen and my cutting board
take some vitamin pills
with an egg and spinach sandwich
and walk to the post office
waiting for its reality to be
almost obliterated
by the blitzkrieg of maniacal history
and the uncoerced erosion of the stars.

.....

Adobe wall overlooking the hitch rails, and the gang tied
shade for spring-fed bluegills
sharp hooks, with open canvas steps facia fasteners
      underneath post bracket
                              aluminum handrail moulding
the leaves are long, the tough skin system of radar
 a cunning timber beast wrestled the ancestral names young bushwhackers then mounted
  like silk or jewels to their intimates   recognizable pools
  motor spook walleyes in shallow water   honoring rice

.....

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.