Skin-sent light
burning elements of my cloak
she ladles at the trough
watching pigs' noses,
snorting talk
long shiny wood devoted to her altar
fake and pressed flowers
the living bulb
resides on my kitchen table
in or out of water
the rooms all sing to her absence
she is so many, she has so many sisters
brows heavy with meaningful scribbles
the baby goddess hand
on a landscape of flattened wheat
torsos buried in milk mud
spouting brass fountain breasts
in the chemical aisle
rice fed on salt and moon panel
clotting transparent skulls
whip handle stuck to the river
and a costume dragging
a lurch of lips,
a birth control chamber
of antique weaponry
glinting canine alphabets
and sinking veins in teeth
a valkyrie scrubbing
zeroes of starchy wires
from a smoked-in porch
dangling glass keys
from her tits of mercy.

Bicycle spoke fangs
nudging gills of bone
pushing heated dials
with frozen hairs
chair leg arms
and cushion spine
door frames of clear running water
teeth in heaps of brine and metal
windows in cut feet
cut mouth and hands
cut muscles of upholstry
the staffs and mops and straw
over polished and melted seams
cold throats of pissed-at eyes
rolling chains
a pulley of broken elbows
storing wheat in paper
pink air in a cupboard of lungs
a cylinder of cotton
leaking elastic cells
and strings of wood crawling.

Bundles of crumpled metal branches
swinging from a sad chin,
stars on the elbows frothing,
a cracked knee, a stabbed heel,
decentered head throbbing
in blood without gravity
beneath the whirlpool skin.

Register of chipped fingers
and antique shirts,
glass bulb of examining eyes
a ribbon over the hillside.
Shelves of painted bread
and packaged icicles.
Napkins of verbiage
done up in a cream puff wrapper.
Spokes that hold the tabled wheel
smoked and greasing a pig's ear.

Minnows exploding across
the silver reinforcements,
a fountain room waffle iron
printing graves on a sheet of salt.

The same as.
Mirrored clouds
an energy of false abandon
all trickling away.
Guardrails for sitting and smoking
couches by the riverside
a good pair of attic headphones
ditches and scissors opening boxes,
pulsation of broken sheaves
in the vale of thorn velvet
brown rabbit dash for the iris
my body a clay foot
the overturning of all things
with a grip.

The backyard's green glove
draping machine teeth silhouettes
splitting vapor and planting scars
his communion of hot liver
tree trunk's horizon
and berry acid.

When the day I prepared for so long
comes in emptiness,
comes with its wide streets quiet
I want my damp solitary grayness,
my unscreened corners
flapping wings to disturb the dusty colors,
the messages of drains hiding it all
deep in the earth.

Let the trapped grain
be under its cloud
trickling varied innards,
flutes in muck and long tables
swept by sheen of mirrored light,
a vision of watery commas
bisecting scripture to fall
into a thousand halves,
the knelt-on pebbles
holding meteoric graveyards
and prismatic holes.

Outside the courtyards and ballrooms
of observed bodies
a rounded cusp,
a shell's cracked edge
flowing with optic follicles.

Walls, gateways, pools, and mineral acids
fresh international ultraviolet journal container
and pendulums, mirror group spirit voodoo antenna,
thousands of grape hyacinth snowdrops. snowcaps, squill,
storage rooms, galleries and many dried blueberries out of an overshoe
a gigantic clothes branch with little mud patties on it.

Inside is a hollow room, high eons ago,
the dense fur, trapping a well-packed pile.

Cloaked in silver against the freezing dozens
in the ice I could see a great sleek body
on his way

The urgency of certain doorways,
certain root-seats under spreading branches,
places marked by stones that drift and wander;
frantic blood of so many nights,
irresistible sheen of broken vessels
laid out in the pale morning
on a tide of shrink-wrap wax paper notes
and finger-holes in bread
carefully filled with honey;
the plate sticks: the teeth of the day
already scrape on concrete
as love awakens hate
tipped claws, a theory of
the first act's beginning.

Eels with tapped-out eyes
coat racks of rabbit fur labyrinths
descending aisles whose foam
I have disrupted in my sleep
all ground floor elevators of silver
bicuspids and gold clasps
helmets lined with blacksmith's nails
tacking temples to the thought of blood
and driven death, the beguiling plants
and eves and plum gripes
he can get for himself in the slab cooker
the tongue kisses of financial levels
widely dispersed in youth
the gas mask
of many muzzled dinners.

Longitudes of wet land
feeding piercing eyes afoot
in a clay head,
leveled at elevator imprints
on the whipped path,
flickering tinfoil and cement.

Lunatic graveyards,
spoiled yeast
and spent sails,
a tent and abandoned car
folded up in the stomach.

Puddles of throat and lung blood
capping mountain water
cabins lodged in the pine ears
that gird his fireplace head
bursting pills of wax
a hot tub's cache of tobacco
and rented alcohol
erupting in speech,
a tongue tattooed grocery list,
tower of cushions bent back
by spontaneous vomit.

Fields deer kicked and shat
spreading vacant water
on rock-stacked inclines,
log roads in termite sand
swerving higher and higher
than the stripped and painted trunks
vaporizing his headdress
and velvet-lined sockets
a lane of metal tables
the cracked claw of
protruding forehead.

Friends falter, meanings empty out.
A new garment of filth
covers the ancient sun.
The frozen sides become
the frozen center.
Clear walls pulse
like amphibian bellies.
Docks of shin bone
stitched together
with eyelashes and nose hairs.
Twilight setups that look like
a milk spill on a rippling tarp
from the mouth of the barn
that never changes,
and the man splitting wood
who never changes, and other
myths going under the leaves
and in large antiseptic rooms
where the hum of time leaving
crashes on spurred backs,
navel orange eyes
and stumped hands
that have done a lot
finding more in their making
more in the caves of their birth
in the velvet pad at the foot
of the air-scraping coral stool
sending up swirls and piped vapors
sending a language of wings
and a dead body breathing
its salt limbs
table of silence scratched through
with its outlet of tumbling needles
propeller of plants and earthen rain
coiled into an asterisk's fist.

But when the underworld aberration of light
touches a ring of space and isolation surrounding the subject
at more than one point, independent and detached shapes
inconsolable that there is no outline
the portion of the sky that cannot be seen
and to build a temple in her honor to her separation
a system that make mirror to correct the food of the gods
the cult of important sites and its turbulent destiny
the day, the festive process observing ultraviolet light
at the shrine of the earth goddess pilgrim
great crowds of the classical world
a control room with several updated weather reports
casting shadows on the domes.

High hills where the crest gushed
paths washed out and printed
feet lashed to spikes and treads
lit box from a room in the rock
tree's core unraveled by eyes
that have melted earth's blankets
sweet and deep soul
turned to a cutting instrument
my love, the carbon of documented flowers
my love, the sinews under the great table
my love, the lantern sliding down the branches
dreams of the passionate
under microscopic reversal
visionary gazes shocked by time
to a floating body, to a skeleton of leaf clumps,
a missing swimmer, the outline
defined by faucets and electric rooms,
lain on curves and elastic tongues,
planned out in hammered fibers
and corner-spanning nails
helicopter seeds on gunshot coffee table
a plush jar of gum split money
a shadow's radiant
feathered hat and edge.

Birdshot bridge pellet eyes
high treetops cloud-curbed
a marathon line of bike tires
hung from powerlines
and bleeding thumbtack feet
light moving wave-encased
genital realities.

From the sacred flow of objects
one into another,
I love you, Antichrist and animal,
I love you, pert discussion instructor,
taking part in the alarm that cuts my destiny,
garters drawn to partake of me
at the end of a long branch
with a head full of seeking hollows
latching myth to gridlock
broom's mustache on marble
winking from a torn brow
a twerk femme fatale
in her sinew of echoes
a latex runway
chopped muskrats
and opossums growing
weary decapitated
I let my lungs plant laundry
in deep earthen pipes
and save the laughter
in jugs of corked clay
a sheaf of rice daddy papers
a field mouse intuition
on tattooed whale belly noon
the geyser of an ambush
my calendar of nicked moments
bright doorways parties everywhere
a cemetery of dance
and a rag weed river
flowing through my transmitted models,
my lip of the sky's opening,
my eye-dapped angle
speeding sap to a table's
vibratory groan
of clutched soap.

Little Antichrist, little wobble,
for you I pray to the ice
and your dungeon father
with my sneering Jesus
these days are stacked wheat
for his gashed paw
his bosom a woman's belly
bitch yet to come.

Star-stuck, buckling in his shine,
clenched in the shell of his small
and deceptive powers:
that poor old beast, his chrome dips,
the slightest shiver runs him through.
Tumbling waters bulb from the rafters,
screens cruise without feet
and eat up unguarded zones.
Plant life burrows into the facial features.
Stones speak to lemons, vitamins
butterflies and small quail.
Structures teem with bubbling felt
and whining fire escapes
jutting from melted bricks
like frayed beard hairs.
Gardens erupt with salt icebergs.
The peaks rip turf and flow with books
of a fatal record.
A forest eats his stare
and translates this killer
into the mainstream.
The wreck he was after
climbs the heap to make
a powder of his skull.

I am gray vegetable matter.
The built-on lots rejoice
at the coming of my
triangular soul.

Paints run the rocks and trees like new logo
and glint meaning.

Benches resound the ass and balls
and crushed cans of crushed heels
slapped shine of the dugout
proud graffiti tomb walls
smoke and singe always
from pipe and glass
teeth bones translucent
and glassy white
grip loosening like gashed rubber
the love that wafts and takes
dust with lips
a distance I long after.

Lilac tongue to eat my eyes
shadow to pine for my raw hide
a high row of golfing trees
smearing the lake's rim of tall chairs
also swinging and missing to crack turf,
reefs and rocks and banks
of hard protected lights
selected by a piercing current
to experience daylight and
the breath of the leaf;
parkways in concrete speckled
with a finger-tapped rain
the jangle of spent keys
ringing visage that has survived
the look of too many doorways
frame riding a woven smile
vines curbing the lash of the eyes
until basement eleven;
a porky wobble through a shouting face
to grease a subway's silence
the soft and sexual crumble
growling of the crowding outer edge
falling in flesh-toned accents
ripping masks and rigged bags
thick stacks of broke-born pages
suffering an instrument's brightness
and dragon injuries
tail thrashing skeletal mice
into man-sized shape
with the glaze of error
like a sword of mercy,
a new shoe feeling on the sunken blood
the ship of skies
neglected of woofers creaking
in the lung-damp night
mic bracketing octopus tongues
streetlight crooking like a venus flytrap
cracked bricks' honeysuckle
of ribs nibbling dust
and a gnomelike absence
that the empty cushions pierce
and the dried-up hand tables
squeeze me for ascenscion
and my friend's love is plaid jacketed
while mine is pocket stitched,
sidewalk tire-hatched,
the ode of these cornerstone blues
rigid red cells going
and the chemical drain
a goo of departure
in the latch that once kept
the gather of the suffering slab
long with receipts,
the great hair and short t-shirted evenings,
the weekend's resource balloon
a slide of knobs
and loaf of bread remaindered.

Red-faced shield manufacturers
at the windows around my house,
leering and squawking til
the hot strawberry light
parts them wild,
diagonal aims and lasers
a shined table,
a hollow pin, a wide dancer
guarding a hindered groin,
a constellation beltway
tilted by cracked oars,
the unmoored gravity of eyes
paved over with garden bed and rehearsal
high chutes of elevator grass
long roots in the love-taught water
a fishbed, a glowing ring of rocks,
a bouncing cracker, tuxed and latched,
world-worthy an oyster boy,
ugly making its way to adornment
to meet him, hands width
of courts and hats and old
speckled way of painting things,
paid off for the second-story laundry,
the sounds of hand soap
and many seeds in activation.

Rounded surfaces refracting
eyelids and bus journeys
on headphone acid
pistons and springs of bathroom silver
pumps of two-way wing armpit
paths marking skin of earth
the thrashing of rejoined creatures
leaf's launch of memory
hung to its tower of shelves
and glass orbit dressing up
as the plumber's jewels,
color of a smeared newspaper
shark's paper napkin.

Long ornamented teeth
creating pleasure in
the punctured body.
Sirens of laughter
from the lewd absorption,
the strength of the vague,
of those who gather.
No meaning in the love
of heartbeat furniture.
No gift of transport
in their numb and weary eyes,
dumb, fucked-out,
loved to death,
dying, dead.

Sorry to have stumbled across
the beauty stimulated by terror,
the cream slab of sunset,
sidewalks quiet and empty
of daylight from above,
the mineral sky a reflecting
ulcer, stumps of delectable blood,
torn veins of gas,
the belted mummies, received error.
Supple potted hands
rearranging tan
densities of noon.

To the end of the reach of the body,
to the rods that sprout yellow flowers
and ripple rock,
to the lunar light's gash of receding oil,
the grasp of sharp water
in a bottomless pit.
Thumbnail bibles
in honey stuck wings.
Air system clashing
with a swallowed drumbeat
ten horses' legs
on a couch of ferns
buzzing with vagrant wasps
and landing queens.

I am always the one
who doesn't know the way,
the one whose life is wrong,
the one left out and then included
by violence.  Pinned
between the powerful
and those they have beaten,
I have no friends.
Tall trees bring good things to my mind.
Fountains bubbling in central ponds,
the dump of electric forests.
Shades that waver and dip
from wide windows,
the scattering of refracted light.
Thin rugs stretching over
a wrenching floor,
the made-up faces of brutal women.
Cleansing chemicals in a frozen parade.
Chairs that wait for nobody at all
next to bricked-off doors,
and a twilight like dandelion seeds
being blown far.

In high-up abandoned rooms,
in broad waterless circuits,
I continue to avoid the acrid smoke.
Pulleys and bending tubes
invade broken halls,
clocks put out wilting feelers,
transparent doors lock
and the dark smoke curls
against them in an ocean.
I drink the light from ceiling bulbs
and long electric pipes.
Banquet tables untouched
and wide uninhabited floors
have vacuumed feet and faces away.
If I crack my head with ice,
if I fall crookedly on my torso,
what billows and blacks out
may be revealed through me
and break the watching glass.

Of all those driven crazy
by the American dream,
I am the one.

Flashing through parking lots
and tin gazebos
nimbus after nimbus
burst on me
and running its hot sauce pro-matter
through the atmosphere
branch to mouth
and thorn in the bud of the tongue
green cracks in the brick
faces coming together in conglomoration
imagined by this place
to be smashed and saved
with its acorn crater
satellite cheese
and public broadcast
ass to mouth
in ceremony of truth
with gin receipt,

with its monkey brain carts
and poetic understanding of minerals
doing tall things in the ballroom of money
and blood-rusted hammers
long transparent rectangles floating
to greenhouse wick zones
moth wings glued to the hotel glass
whacked off passed out
with tray of thin spaghetti
hat scorched by microwave
comb-whipped cat and shaved Roxanne
my steering wheel a varied probe
a girl's yelling rectum
near the garlic knob
of the radio glow bar
of the time when I had a vehicle
and a thing burned into my theme

the vomit that I had to say
shat out like a turf war of stars
sprinkled ceiling and shovel worm
burrowing home to the hut-washed evening
enveloped in pillows
egg-shack's click-throat
sleeping and scheming
the thumbtack killing a shark
from a nude smacked hand
and a run-out man
a soup line man in drag tuxedo
tugging a suitcase world
and a train of digitized framework muzzles
the gospel of welding
delta to powerline pole
and roping a box of gloves
a mandolin's cracked string piece
and antennae bent back under twists
in the dream-recording headboard

for lemon fists and discarded aprons
butt fucking ass on the cinnamon floor
proper temperatures registered tagged
dubbed down by springs and salvation army fingers
for an LSD mattress and a type flick
running on the chimney opposite
caught by the flag T-shirt apparatus
a scoundrel's brown teeth gleaming
hubristic pennant rimlicked
between the android clefts
a diamond hustling elastic
in a tangled colonial
a desk job waiting in parallel forehead
a can faking
a spray tucked into action
a door cartoon
a fertile creep
the necessary desperate
globe opener.

A sash of broken earth,
a path of linking bones,
a pipe grooved by falling things,
eloping with darkness.

Flame of a dragon's beard
going down in twilight.
Shelves of agony retouched
to gleam with it.

Torsos accepted by rain
defeating each other.
Perpetual and monotonous combat.
Pears glinting in the morning.

A blank screen
skimmed by dead names.

TESLA

Falls and rigged roads
bubbling with mercy
telegrams from Mars
tapped out in the lines of my hands
dynamite paths
and the high rock around them
sending through me
derailed messages,
issues of broadband cloth
and the masks of their mail,
highway paint zagging
cross the radio dial
the laundry lid and the telephone factor
personas linked in time
to disintegrate
in the barred hereafter,
the curve of bridges
leaping thumping cars,
gridwork tapped and oiled
hammers moving in the shoreline dusk
spikes of pine fanned out
on a rocky cloud
the flag of the sun
rippling over

my driver's seat door
dragging chandeliers
wind propped open by a feather
counters gleaming
the empty number glaze
hollow body above which
I am rising.

A perch of concrete moss
crushed rubber bands
and beer-fed paper
setting moon scribbled
by bramble thorns
the lonely melted shoe soles
long courses of sand trap green
and hard-slept benches
where a scrap of nerves
hid from light
caught vein leaves
and sprang up from
vacuumed rain
abandoned courts
of hole puncher dusk
to staple likenesses
on electric poles,
come out of anonymous houses
smeared with smoke
and bedside table hair vinegar;
halls whizzing through
upper chambers
without connecting floors
the flight of velvet ropes
guarding antique curtains
the gilt edge of all our interactions
cracking pens and wishbone jaws
the sucking mouths
of dashboards on rewind
digging drains in earthbound glue
flagging ship side birch
with graffiti and scheming names
a grid's lynch of satin sheets
amphibian seam of ink and fences
a grinning womb
guarding the river's trigger record.

Embryonic cell clouds
tapped into the high wallpaper
twanging bones
long ledges with water
strong roots upside down
ripping the wind
seats of pale leather
flowing from windows
brooms on fire with ancient text
straws lettered and bending
on dark concrete and grill-scorched eyes
walls that breathe through whistles
and whinny on their knobs
turntables worked by thorns
in the belly of plastic things
the sheen of smooth masks
from a vortex of blades
lopsided branches
collecting wax and teeth

Waves tumbling long grass
nudes torn up in a field of shells
cold upright cabinet head
opening rows of skinny doors
sheets of pressed flowers
yields of baking crud
circuits of flashing water
in the under dome
butterfly towers with rope arms
round bridges sprouting hubcap daisies
brown paths on the flanks of green hills
straw baskets of babies' heads
and the stippled highway raging
a salt stream through every sleeping eyelid
a searching finger that never curls
to point back home
egg puncture and egg sides
and egg heart going splat splat splat
on the hurricane siphon
a tarp leading outskirts wide
catching ancient footfall.

This distorted fink,
this reflected smuggler,
he thinks he won't get cancer
because he's handsome.

This dotted beast,
who sits in upper rooms
abandoned and simultaneous,
waiting for the light to be cut down
to a manageable stream
by some cloud passing.

Keeper of these dusted and
sucked-out chairs,
tumbled through a wind tunnel
antiseptic on the grass.

A shining armor of plastic congregations
to keep the mud.

A fountain side traveler
stapling his bench
to the life raft.

Squares cut into wet cement
by a dancing sword.

Sun dim sanctuaries in white green grass
long parkways root cracked with standing bicycles
prairies shot with pipes and tomb architecture
dugouts paved with under drawer laces and smashed cans
seats glossed with maps and laundry powder
the changing of small coins in cloth-clapped hands
water-fried faces bearded with rinds of ass and tobacco,
reflecting a cotton tumor through a glass female,
a candle's bloody mouthed crawling fairy
thinking weaponry and fog, a decade's
thumbtack braille of the body,
toad of the airways slimmed down
to fit my tiger torso,
mandolin leaning hard
on a frozen river camp,
with his grimace lurching in coffee,
my sliver twin grabber of windowsills,
greeter of all beaten laws
seated backwards to meet the brush,
prepping fuel-drenched people,
an animal's bright kitchen,
the host of observed galaxies,
coasting on computer,
tugging a copper-toned similacrum
with the freshest juice of eyes,
a time drainer.

Silk days open like blowing fire
walkways to the sea on long arms
suds of hair and froth of skin cells
dripping long blades
through the light of the body
the run-off from which
restaurants and cinema lights spring up
tangling with their wires and repairing figures
as they ascend on torn wood and sensitive metal
flinging cones and bent entrances
into puddles of oil
that reflect a tree of suns,
a ring of drums in painted grain
the drive of pink serpents
to a dark and leading curve.

All mouth sky rise
a stem through every bud
rails hammered into soil
eyelids dancing on the pillow case
I try to jolt the electrode heart
make jump the wet pebbles
on the sheen of printed gemini
slide saucepans over the seeing bulb
flickering loaf of bodies
that have answered death
the shell of an underground backyard
pierced and rearing caves
of light that will not be somber
white bulbs of empty space with no beds
the stripped blood replying.

Talk of hills and brunt of stumps takes me
long shard like paths
fronds of nerve putty dipping in wax
broken-arm nets in elastic flipping little corpses
all pebbled highways and tangled cords
pulled-off doors in off-white paint
rusting to the melody of a fragment's dawn
the shadow's slope wet with saliva
pathway to a pepper garden
crying from headphone eons
to slaps of vagrant water
the salt on her tight trunk
an ear hair tonguing thumb harp
an electrocuted snooze frame
cutting cloth with rope
a dream of sliding the banister
in a torn down house
and breakfast on the cursed lawn
with the lawn-cursed apples
staring fog to a tree of walls.

To the top of the narcoleptic stack
bunions in painted hands
examining the deer path broadcast
in the battered lines of sole
cloud-reflected and dim of heart
revived by primacy of anger,
blossoming in coil,
pouted by the fat squash
of American human forms
waving bones at flickering disconnection
forking the air with their tongues
and watching it flow through bodies
the many wakeful masks
saucer-guided and fiending gladly for slippage
seeping with orbs and rooted sores
saddled with smiling goons
gone bitches and gleaming night grabber
suffering with grapes and crackers
moving with wigs and nippled tubs
surfing regret all hollowing whirlpool
on the way to the kingdom.

Dotted with antiseptic bulbs,
body-masks of cruel and twisted velvet,
gashed knees with pepper
and an empty cock-shaped mouth,
slim clouds of a descending plane
framing lips and green backgrounds
windows marked by electricity and salt
drums of rust on the charcoal's rest
palm lines climbing a concrete wall's cheek
monkey bar eyes in a curving suit
a face of clit and car crash humor
fuming at the steering oil
growing dark eyeglasses
from the stalk of a tender head
parroting cash machines
with the orgasmic sheen of real love
signing freckles with fire ink tendons
bitch schemes to get their blood repainted
the gliding of petroleum curtains
seated in the puncture wound
of all earth.

It's not a fading bloom
that strikes the bad bad
hillsides, prayer circles drunk
entangled in the sobs
that limb the bridges,
dozens parked in transparent shelf-tanks,
limbless volunteers keeping waterless offices lit,
high and hitting with expressive foam,
the death march of named images,
a ringway in the paint-struck perimeter
excreting a chain of demons,
a hallowed picnic impaled
on hellraiser's strings
and flung to the attic's gape
where the moon rolls sheets
the headstone flips
like a candy pellet
to crush your feet
and the far ground soils.

Chasm of unopened streets
hard blossoms cased in tiny stones
pursed clouds gleaming raw tit
lidded laundry hooking cuffs and laces
body-fictions of past days
with the toothpick tiny sidewalks
drawn into a fishbowl
and given a smack of snuffed fire
that has figured dawn.

A rag fetcher walking it face first
speed cones and rippling infinity
shine planks and the stretching metal of a tank's belly
rainbow forehead of a flying whale
a torn perfection of foil
revealing pink atmosphere
edges of a frayed room
nudging buds of twisted wire.

Framed numeral stations
and radiant railroad track images
teeming with petroleum daffodils,
pitching potato juice dance moves
to an empty black sky.

The sex-broken back
of rich blood let loose
on the underground,
the fury of taste
beckoned by disintegration,

a mask in curd of day
the diamond skin
of battery's acid blood,
the glad conniver of wheat germ,
eating salad in honey,
an egg charmer.

Mug's decorated farms of divided skin,
all eaten up by light and microbes,
staring pock marked glass
in a tunneled future.

Fissures steaming clay colors
find rooms inhabited
by walking file cabinets,
digitized top hats
and ancient carving knives.

Tapes of wind and shore side solitude
flicker around the congregated cut throats,
a pudding of electrodes,
lipstick and mascara crab cakes.

Topless veal frying architectural hands
to retrieve blood,
dry and gagging
in dyed smoke.

Narrow shorelines wind the habitat
grey concrete clusters, black plastic,
potted plants in ashes

white peanuts spill out on textbook rugs
long antelope hoses come out
of the walls, my body

discs of fire and firming eels
keep my rock steady, herded gaze
burns twisted into flower by fiber
canals brightly yielded
in the taken light.

Brows clipped and sharpened
focusing the blood glass of the eyes
apron ripped by the arms of
a female keeper, bronze servant
of the pumping rod,
an ocean in unsteady readiness,
a seamless paw,
strings greedy in cornered vastness,
the baker's back seductive as blank paper,
the pepper below
a cloth-belted waist
heat-fractured into honey,

raw-cut stems and disinfectant leather,
seething onions that set off
the squeezing and oozing wood,
hacked green and its pile
of root-butts and cracked
seed-bearing hearts,
all near a boil and volcanic rivulet,
pusher of rack and lamb,
mopper of hot decks
glued together by voiceless air,
the aching of a long and hollow bar
in the vacuum's hot wire.

The scar on my brow is scraped
from staring fiber optics
into broken gears,
my cabinets float around me
in a heavy flock,
the trapped light funnels
and pulls.

Long doors and evaporating corners
sneak around us like
hidden touches of make-up,
rugs pulling an antique floor,
the skylights blushing red
with high-up vehicles.

You are smooth and bulbous
in the folds of crouching linen.
Slimming crowds fork away
from each other
around your trick elbows.

Chimes on the cold breeze
thighs twitch on a moving walkway
towns lift off and hover over
chutes of sucked-out beam-up light harangues
make coat hangers and corners tick
tapped pens and money lenses
aisles and hammered squares
rolls and packed pills
a falling anvil to catapult
the jutting geography of many boxes
dust-stuck eyelashes on glass
signed spheres and stamped DNA
liquids kept in unsampled classes
pricked by the moon's cap
an empty elevator in which she remembers
fainting for sex at the wolf's tongue
and printing table blankets.

Platforms of walnut smoke
mice roving electric ridges
glass triangles watching
from half shadows
in the birdbath eyes
of flatbed beasts
the rubbed out dollars
of elbow scab teeth
climbing leaves to get near
helium-stacked branches
and stinkpalm the tongue of the hills
an armchair reptile
flinging belted scenes
around the tether-pole
in a day's link of silver chains.

POEMS OF A JANITOR

The rag foams on marble,
hands of oil search
transporting air,
caged flakes
zoom in glass meander,
baskets are green
with pink dye and
orange teeth's horizon,
ducks in plated rows
dunk beaky nostrils
latex eyes
on the werewolf finger,
banana skin forearms
of sideways ladies
slipping dark cash
to the stair mopper,
ink on the foul of his
tank-tread sneakers,
rays in ultraviolet
spanked formation,
brows and cheeks and braids
in the coin of suds,
printed toilets
roar and blank the walls,
scenes of a raking leg
thicken the incline compactor,
the cursive of dairy razors,
a hot water pen
for tampon baskets
and the poems
of a janitor.

Spelunking oars
tied to the strings
that found them,
needles scratching
the pine they fell from.
The witchcraft of many tears.

Nursing water tanks
and warrior wounds,
suspicious, gathering.
An ovoid sky pouring baskets
of goldenrod spears,
dilated lines, stung
and sprouting.

Wires of perception that
tug and make gnash.
Mailbox doors like a cold cervix.
Deracinated sun
that scorches all the borders.
Fiend declassifying his delicacy.
The twins of the warrior moon,
hacking stalactites.
Moving tables that
disclose the source,
the Neo-HooDoo heart.

Porous epigrams of wheat,
the face in the spoon stretches.
Grates of frozen flesh
channeling mortar stew.
Burned hallways soaring
past fertile rooms.
Heartbeats in the clenched hands
bouncing lights off water.

Outlet faces sucking tangled cords.
Hillsides running with broken milk bags
tree houses springing like catapults.
Cups like plastic tops
spinning on glass and vacant tables.
Stung buttocks and lashed calves
compacting brainless bodies.
Sacks of trash leaking golden blood.

Rings the blacksmith poked
with shrieking tongues.
Salty units displacing oiled wheels
with a treadmill of scalps and bullets.
Slender triggers gaining space
expanding galaxy walls.
File folders dripping blue heat,
red numbers and whitened
switches and wires.

Midnight sits at the tip
of an extended tongue,
she has a name there,
she waits like a church
staircase open,
a silk monster.

She organizes cabinets
with a wisp of air.
Belts and handles
float out of storage.
Headlines flicker across
her rouged brow.

Screaming thoughts navigate
the streamer-draped bulletins.
Umbilical cords cut by fish tank edges
paint the subway pink and brown
with layered numerals and letters.
The telephone pole is a grandfather clock.
The shocking energy reclines and coils.

Dawn doors and rain slopes
sky-ovals dropping tiny sap-filled wings
geometry of cut wood and cattails
blood plates and frozen ways
swamps pushing diagonally rooted flowers--
choke-hold of wave after wave
tickling a boat's motor--
imprints of finger-fur,
lines and their sprouting heads
full of snakes and soda

cool roller coaster wheels through
rings of tied-up gloves,
the interwoven dollar signs of dungarees,
asbestos closets leaking black light,
the sandy corners of drunk-slept rooms
spilling mirror fragments,
tangled dusty ropes
on the beer-fur of some giant's chest,
a knife kept in clinging paint
singing anchors to nested objects.

If among the clanging of tribes
I try to howl in harmony,
know that it is only a dance,
a straining after processions
that have left me over.

Platitudes rip up in the yielding air,
the strengths of the canal's carvers.
Hang-gliders exchange merciful texts
with no commands.
The grass surfs the ground.

Pinioned roots rear up.
Stones like teeth
wear long caresses
and move a light along.

A sky-island of cans and beets
gauze-packed carrots and foam crates
shoe-loops dangling monkey heads
and frog bodies

silk treadmills tugging sucked-out bones
salty wigs on the ship's wheel
dragging dentures of clay
across the seams of waxed wood

skulls of tin printed with clouds
lipstick nostrils staring gears
of a blade's circle
turning dusty sparks
to a planetary core.

Rain dagger and silent drift
napkin hearts shrinking plastic balls
into the eyes,
where they hum with broken air,
dangling spider threads
across a shielded forehead.

Pursed mouths printed on a clay wall,
fizzing arms with hollow veins,
a well of crayon saints
crawling ropes of steel
into a grey sun.

Whirlpools of green food dye
behind the ceiling fans,
clicking tongues in an empty room,
the rubber violins of a tied-up body
grinding grain into oxygen.

Pinned up by the foreskin,
clawing with crocodile paws,
bright face on the boundary,
puckered tools drooling severed signs,
fenced-in whirlwinds spurting jagged glass,
dirt as muscles growing vacant spasms,
paper bodies shredding antique walls,
tumbleweeds flinging razor'd teeth,
thorn-paths climbing painted tires,
leafy missiles combing through the air,
apartment tunnels zooming sewage meat,
flowers dipped in the light of clay sprouting pox,
eyes in piles riding rusty plows,
fevered skins in a flagpole's rind,
a curlicue of bronze drinking straws
from a fermented grave,
one knuckle-split shrinking time.

Slabs of cut earth
pyramid piled on a concave head
blanketed with fallen sun discs and dust
needles of pine and pomegranate seed
wood stacked on a chimney's mouth
torn money on the tongue's doorstep
space-ripples pouring down
the flanks of the trees
hot eyes in a broken thatch of thorns
slate shoes and a dented helmet
strapped together by wheeling brine
streaming roads dipping skies in black
the knife rides
a little trickle under.

A map around the body,
broken lines drinking light,
bars across the eyes
that pucker pretzel'd cubes,
drifts of powdered bones
swirling cursive feet,
sky chains and moon chains
and a funnel that speaks,
collarbones tied in pasty loops
around the lava neck,
cloth boxes dipping threads
in liquid hands,
arms of rubber miles
racing office dusk,
tape loops caught
on the throat's egg thorn,
a nibbling punk
in a coat of leaves,
with a fishnet windshield
and the warmth of a burning czar.

Pounding dusk and grassy soil
point to the god of the hills
slapping the roots of a small tree
with his belt, laughing at his own efforts,
the owl of refined exertion on his shoulders,
ready to hang blossoms on a thistling remainder,
to point up the sky in search of fiery and far
contortions clasping fateless fate,
driving furrows through the flank
of the mountain's stem
for a one-way climb,
a peak's pool of glue,
a dirty pocket,
lips and ephemeral foundation.

Embroidered walks tugging at radiant sights,
wood metal monuments teeming grass files,
leaves with penny-sized holes drifting riot's wind,
thumb-harps twanging the rings around searching fingers,
bags of piano strings perpetually landing on the stairtop,
and a weary hand slapped aside by a younger hand,
and the prolapsed tunnels linking continents with train-cities,
blinking out the stars scouring sockets to get them back clean,
standing in the light shower of skidded and land-strapped cars

with a face of the sight tongue,
retinas shot with the wine of past skies
and fainting beauties on organized rubble,
lilac stems in the ripped septum,
countenance primed by engine sauce
chutes of bubble chains
still tracing ocean courses
without electric books and rooted windows
a digital eel with cold plier nostrils
mailing his address to the gun-sighted sun
with a field stacked of animal ladies
and opioid hands released from trouble
a trunk of ladles and symponuity of persimmon,
a sheaf of bled-on spice,
a fractured seeing-stone,
sunglasses on rye toast
with a nodding scepter.

Spires of trash piles
shedding sacred paper
bars of glue in eternal teeth
macaroni of moving eyes
and rushing empty channels
tall neon tunnels
that sprinkle blue dust
mazes of shoelace
pulling fragrant hinges
the stripes of fallen beasts
a zig zag cacophony of wraps
ripped by boomerang gravity
stacks of pumped and flattened colors
lens dripping crushed tissue and flaming silk
craters cradling milk and fur hats
earth layers sag and pop
to blossom poison warts
a coat hanger pen
scribbling thigh-strong engines.

Prongs of daylight give to fists of furry semen
backseat glass shards pricking the radio
bags of water eat
twilight suckerfish come up
smacking against the running board
like a cluster of dried heads
and tongue onions
large trees parched in the net of sun
star fields coming over
in a sheeted glaze.

PORN

Animal Phyla
having transparent material by eight men,
a keen strewer of roses
softly extended

Foundation lyrics crumbled
in a pierced hallway
numerals painted over by a whirling sash
the dreamer forgetful of eyes
who would be their wanderer
ice cracking in his back brain
nuzzled by a table
and admitting a drowsy light;
inheritance accepted by degrees
and vomited with great regret

hair's bullet-cut,
curbs flickering freshly cut stone.

Empires of linoleum
highways of painted grass
steaming mouths of truck-backs
spinning chairs bumping cracked transparent walls
stacked burners smoking teeth and elbows
floors rising through a sanctuary of mud
my fellow servants and I carbonated
with eye-straws and teeth-straws and ear-cuffs
walking the cork of the walls,
the swimming floors,
the cracked and sightseeing
ceiling tiles.

And a budding tower of stoves
ramming televised oxygen
into sentient cement,
bagging corners
to take the whole, swishing
through a maze of horse tails
and fire-laden swamps
holding a bronzed receipt,
a miniature who bites tendons,
a chief who steals laughter from crones
in these porcelain halls.

A scene impaled on a thin arm
brown hills with blue and white backing
the spines and ribs of paths
wires ridden high with trembling seats
and slings flung from high trees
the skidding wheels of thoughtless foot pedals
stones turned by a squirrel skull
the fallen rot diagonal
and clouds thick as paint from the mouth
boat wide leaves fallen on a dim lake
chain link singing around my hidden form
notes' timber alive in my tin blood
the hardening of our shared earth
in me like eyes,
the brazen courtship of a killing shroud
scattered with open plastics
a boxed-up wound
simmering saints in jello.

Octagon eyes
sucking an interlaced fern mask
the high boroughs maimed
and the country sets reeling,
broken porches see-sawing
cocktails into the mouths
of my unknowing antagonists,
bright clouds of thought-fuck
around his and his and his aching head,
and too much of him in the dish department
smashing a clean car battery
into a dirty mirror,
and much more of him
in the corner suds
ducking his own whip
and laughing.

An empty carton on couches
headcase laced with rubbing
alcohol and kaleidoscopic laundry
the spinning wheel of paint
sending droplet organs
through a phantom

tiger bodies in the pulsing eyebrows
thirsty background of bloodshot veined
sleepless religiosity
beams with forked hands
pushing paper towel ceilings
menus of whipped flesh
bright looks from a winking backside
the fruition of regurgitated children
stabbing barbecue sticks
through a poison frog belly
a vacant sign dripping alphabet soup
and the popped sight
of a dumpster rainbow

the oily reflection walks,
puts on gloves
and is a machine healer.

The big godlike head has
nine wigs and three gears
napkin boxes in floating rows
long cords dragging like dismembered snakes
shining discs on legs
spike dented beaches of aluminum
the knots of mid-spine tassels
smeared open by burning light and lotion's fabric
plows descending in oil
from interlocking mountains
feet un-suctioned from drinking fountain rivers
the blade of clean eyes
like a vaccine stain.

Peeled down to the raw slime of man
with the egg's teeth on me,
with bridges open to me
long trees helicoptered by heartbeats
tuned to a toasted timer
with long hair wires
with cinnamon baptized in sesame oil,
sun's behind a pan stuck to the window
gardens are teeming basil and asparagus arms,
dull wood shrunken is shined wood,
vines in the blood are working ceilings,
levels of cracked trash concrete light
working dens behind them.

The hum goes out over a wide frozen lake
gathering stray and stripped wings
in a net patched with pins
and coiled hair
bottles cooling in the thin patch
fallen on stone edges
ice on glass and sky on skull
the cracking container of a thousand frames
rough doorways of wooden fur
scrubbed and sanded by vertabrae
in rope fingers and racing hands
hillsides sliding through open ribs
the mouth a smashed mailbox
where seeds and twilight alphabets
go shivering

like beads of unseen fire
driving this brick continent
into the sky's graph
with a gear shifting diamond stalactite
the glass eye broken under lid,
gliding bulbs and wet shards.

Rails on the branch read by hands
knob slipping from trunk
with green fang's
bud of forked tongue
the sky's brown tarp
pulled over bright blue knives
dripping polished claws
silt lit by mica fingers
belts of depressurized leather
hinges of mud
out to the tip of outlook
where the roads of language
round out their circuits
the center of a spoken leaf
sweating razors and glue cylinders
wrapped-up maggots in layered tape
little crests of bark
stuck like a stopped wave
sets of parked food
weeping carbonated streams.

Suds run on the dome's long curve
flakes melting angles in bristle mouths
trains are segmented stems
uprooted and bouquet'd leaking oil
into the flute of water
roots violating cement frosting
between the bricks of name
the landscape of analytic skin
running to a spear tip's pen
jabbing layers of cut-out earth
peeling dirt from empty basements
sod from stringed mouths
clump grass from
a button pressed eye.

Piano hands clamped to a fridge
dancer's legs on a spit
plate's rim gilded with ascending stripes
highways on bridges of pasta
shifting like eels in bloody transit
chopped-off crops holding stacked garages
the limbs of untangling things
carving faces from deep glass.

A storm that went building mansions
has returned in snow.
Spiral blades coughing heat
in black smoke.
Branches spreading through
the second floor.
Leather chairs high beaming graphs
the creases and seams
of bodies migrating
through petroleum waves.
High ornaments nailed up
to a bone cast in bricks
of frosted meat
by aging powerlines
the socket of all-seeing cartilege
sparkling with transparent blood.


Desks with high headboards
sprayed with molasses of tongue dust
nostril frost heaves
wincing with received arrows.
Bunk beds pouring like ghostly dominoes
from soundless windows.
Bleached pillowcases
sending a facsimile breath
to the roof of a shovel's mouth.

The high triangular office
caressed by lights,
inks of red blue and black
running in miles of transparent wires
to a hand's grip of jackhammer quills,
nine tails of broken bulbs,
a hillside collecting boots and celery stubs,
voices booming in caverns of mud,
acres of steam-rolled gloves,
the melted print of a day's work
spent carving molecules.

Long rings of disintegrated paper
going oval and figure eight
feet of oil and brow of encrusted stone
nucleic acid linked to a farmer's torch
the kernel's purple stirring under a yellow cap
pinched white, the drip's lid of vibratory particles
kissing the butts of sunken blades.

Cracked ridges
on the edge of the town's mouth
doors in snow
unfolding painted arrows
descending heels in canned space
microwave webs on a frying light
long mop trails painted water on marble glaze,
a whirlpool of dusted-off sparks,
strings and granules
filed in the seams of a spinning bucket
foam ceiling's electric drain
long crop rows of knee-high tables
paths whipping to smear windows
hot hoof-stains to train glass
the library's railroad
blinking by the mice of hands.

Slashing of town names town places
bashing a brick hole through
wipers on the dragonfly
scheming tender eyeing looking
with cultivated trashiness
at the trash gatherers.

Hearing the tank splash
under the stereo
the whipping of detached antennas.

The fronds erasing tribal words
generic words and words of forged humanity
tar paint trailing off into grass
religious words quarters of dollars
that are dead.

Slashing town names town places
seeing the outskirts through a fence
of goggled steel.

And breaking down into tears
at the designated area,
small shore of an eggy pond.

Nests dropping from their undergrowth
like buzzing eels.

Headphones catching the rasp
of the forest's woods
from an interstate wire.

Fingers of water from spilled flowers
on the ancient desk.

Trees rolling whole
as spokes in wheels,
coffee in the goblin's throat,
the dream of being the one
unclouded visionary, rescuer of all
worthy worlds, a mopper,
watcher of gears
hidden to task after task
pisser of motion-lit backwoods
caught rolling the red dice
into a wind tunnel
bellowing steel and wood
into tubing and pipes and wire.

Fourteen voices from
a visage ten decades wide.
Candles on the birdbath skull,
the rounded shoulder of a peacock hatchet
a flying heel,
a string of winged daggers,
masks of wool and dumb weather
whip-poor-will graces in the hummingbird shelves
holes in the prized paper
shitting its old thoughts
hymns to the rattled heart a hundred forty years
of wood and tablature
restored to grass,
the mountains leering.

We dreamed of runaways in emperor positions
slashing funds of juice
hand-patterns wielding glow sticks in empty air,
the hallowed mouths quacking.

Early hours with money and bright intoxication
in the evening dew
hunting lost equipment in the cone rain of fertile woods
clouds attached to phone towers like a flapping flag
a rainbow strangeness over the meat-stunned harbor
nets under glass of sucked-out
tunnels of water
eating an aphid smile.

Particle windows
flickering over a high bulb tower
carpet paths humming through deep-cut gardens
tracking lights around eyes in the land
brambles cleared from the silky flank,
the downy cartridge of smoke,
the dull wet capacity of the enemy.

Shingles raining on berries
jangling the frost on dark green leaves
pounding blue-veined fists
while the red sky quakes.

Black doves and banana peels
on the altar of a park fountain
an octopus man thumbing pennies
sheer and gambling spine-blades with trays
the pitter pat of rain attracted
sideways with a magnet iron.

Slammed up against the gelatin of the crowd
leaking anima
agony of the bent head
suffering solitude
in a row of prepared rivers.

Slain doorsmen gleaming
in a slurry film
on long marble
entrance room floors
before me
clutching a bell,
a dog's tail,
a whimper.

Moved into the sovereign area
of not giving a fuck.

Flinging power knee pads
bitch splittails on my porcelain finger
giving their intestinal tracts up to sperm.

And the sacred avenue lit
behind it all,
merrily winking and being
parked, arms of science
by music, tabletop
made bare for performance layers
the tape run out
in a crop scythed by
torn dresses.

Stamped in silver rain
where the brown edges are hanging on,
sidewalks longer than roads
towering above the trees.

Hulks of brick and wounded wood
glass entrances up against pink flesh.

Secretaries of photosynthetic shade
stuffing their mouths with big leaves
of inky daylight.

Old ships and bridges in dried-out suds
the pumping hearts of mouths in cliff-side plaques
tormented by water.

Fronds tracing the window
crack their roots.
Garden beds simmer and
come up like blocks.
Steaming walls of soil
blinking screens.
Backyards on a grid of sticks
rising like a cage from the earth.
Strips of cloudy vapor
sculpting frozen hands.
Yellow wax on the wounds
of a far-seeing face.

Potted lives
crawling their boundaries
like space-fed vines.
Sunglasses swallowing paint
and pouring concrete.
Stems in the orifice of the earth
making the sun wink
on a long-handled spoon.
Boiling skins and guts
writing cursive
on a leaning wall.

Apartment train cars
windows crammed with profiles and limbs
slinky necks and rattling knees
tracks pouring through town after town
never settling a city
in the diamond winking tar

flying linked through banks of snow
swatted by flying planet hands
mists of soaked sunlight and arching bones
long wooden shine on the surging floor
pink engines under the sink with green gloves
and the tangled hoses of transcended bodies

rent paid with blades and bullets
glued together in a looming island
floating overhead with its shadow tracking
desert rails and the milk of pricked cactuses
the script of trembling vinyl arms
apartment train cars

Charred banks of being,
ribs in the soil springing keys
harps with blueberry strings
long paths winking with holes and water
stalk shooting out of the ground
with green and pink buds
offering spikes of violent yellow flowers
to hands that are many and mine,
from swerves in air like water
and tender hooks snaking on flying wheels,
countenances in rock and barking miles
stuck to the life of wood and shingled tar
running electric wires to a sweet snatch
to be buried in sparks
and waffle mattresses,
wire hair.

Fried nocturnes into the deep night I don't find her
clothes flung on barbed wire to climb naked I don't find her
I push baths I move showered brushes
and bins of literate dust I'm getting tired of looking for her

moon syrup and salt flakes of banished skin
tarnished heels that map tables with scant wheat
spread legs and spread time and spread grin
the face of which is covering the earth in her reflections
where I am hiding in a leaf's tic
in a storm fallen through the basin of a park fountain
a bomb rusting through the walls of this antique cherry

plowing rings of sand the ripples of a thoughtful face
to a blade fresh from sharpening wheels
tapped like a tomb, like a mailbox
covering time for the wrong organ
circling a driveway with non-driveway tires
and pondering crushed soil with a hand of leather
on all the transparencies rolled down
blood dimming and dawning to be interred

through the spiral heart and the nexus gateway
where in our many we are one and not-one
sphincter and pressing orb
fluid brains and basking bodies
torn from the arc, become the arc
fledgling lips waxed in historical countenance
and rattled by the lack of it
bitches need like water.

Meat planks set up
in a neat array.
Beaming eyes
that have no focus.
Horizons vast
as these little hands.
Seaward looks
that return to shore
with a different squint.
Weeds over the eyes
of their captives.
Metal and wood
spanking glass.
Showers of sparks
that never land.
Hallways with infinite
supply of more hallways.
Slithering cords hugging
cropped mountain sides
and sifting rain.
Spines crushed through faces
by bulletproof canoes.
Tray after tray with feelings
by compartment served,
and no face responsive
and no body calling
over these vacant tables
where the breezes and lights
die so beautifully down,
and the vats of humming water
don't sign my name.

Wreaths of old neighborhoods
tangled with lit bulbs and dangling swingsets
mustache over the eyes
bright worlds in the dusk of thicket shade
seesaws on the sail's mast
a ship of pipes and pipe cleaners
airport paths stumbling through the body
key chains glinting in black mud
rocks winding higher in the hills
where their high walls tilt
to the ascension of shrooms and brown rabbits
wide rocks running with water
from broken moss and dripping caves
tape players built in to a red clay wall
blasting fog and pine needles
through the funnel of a team of bodies
a ditch of yellow roses
reflected in the plan of their eyes
the grid shanked by thorns before blossoms
ribbons at the bottom touchless tied
bells winking like the end of a computer's day.

Wrens ripped
from the surface of the earth
tar and partitioned benches
seaside eating castoff bread
my friend in drugs is scratching hard
nibbling the corner's edge of eternity,
with his grimace flashing insight
shorelines wrapped like ropes
around his throat and crying foul
at concrete walls bolts of lightning
repainted in the dragon's funhouse mouth
the exit through an ice cube
nests set on epoxy blobs
the ceiling of a popped world
there my virgin first car
wears a wig of leaves
brown as the ground of being
cones delicately darkening
bright lights bashed open
I'm a curling tongue on my knees
on the hearth she's breathing
through the tilt of a straw hat
stripped heels, ass pillows
and the throng of me channeling she
to the stuck garden of no shadowed moon
on beards of sparkling terra
skin twitching to shed antique
attitudes and the blues of the arches
that set us on world after world
I'm a napkin sun
she's a fog winking its way into silk
headwrap & mouth
on my parchment foreheard
my script determined she kisses.

Yards on each sprout
families playing without ground
in the steam familiar;
vines on aftermath screens
climbing and climbing cans
stacks and labels and grenades of beer
suspicious boss eyes
under the dome of my thought,
always some fuckin boss eyes
someday I'll snuff 'em out
and firecracker away
some dim morning sun's calling

yards on each sprout
a whole yard to each
yeasty blossom.

Particle fractoids
mussing giant follicles
plugged rain
parenthetically falling
the ledges catching
remains of the moon
lips tracking a picnic spill
and a jar of dark jewels

yards on each sprout
far and wide haircuts of bronze
and ebony glaze
shelves of bodies that will not fly
and many who'll pounce
skyward with no calling
unraveled under the clown orbit
of the called, boy following a bowling ball.

ANAL

The maw picks, and the thistle strikes
dawn is a cracked keg in the ringing of a grey living room
swaying canvas of roses and pig drawings
wire stem hedges and floating concrete shards
a deep armchair and a flask friend from a friend
furies in the bathtub and the tender rings explored
that had always been holding visions captive.

Under the eagle of light,
the mirror claws.
Gliding over its eyes,
the fire of distance closing.

The penciller crouched
on a calm blade of chair,
facing the expanse
with walls and doorways
up his sleeve, raining plaster.

Turning to the gasp of wings,
a blue shade brought to a point
of chalk made rubber,
a red line under a see-through mouth,

and a yellow line
under these winter months
on a whipped bed
where a pile of mated coats
opens cufflink doors.

Boundless terra
folded in the paths of deer candy
with a car key and a discarded shinguard,
love divided and hacked further
by spartan needs
swaggering dispatch of raw labels
grinding a slough for marbles;
marked space deep
outside earth's atmosphere,
yet with a flag on a long spear,
a volcano wreck in glass partitions,
a long but vacant gaze
searching the shells for tongues
and the towers for streaming furs
whipped aristocratic buttocks
and the smell of blood steam,
song script latched
in arabesque pen
around the dark ribs
of the water tank heart.

The ledge pours
green water and uneven furniture,
branches to break on
above webbed rocks,
bent birches and seedlings that stab,
blood from the lowest dip in the pool,
the crackle of a speaking ear.

Moss parts on the rock,
the stone clit is a prism
the sun gets stuck in,
to be evening, to rip liquid,
blow vine through hosiery,
ruffle the rags
on a peak encampment,
and circle the irregular dome
to drip sap from helicopter blades
into rivulet trays.

The bright electricity
of punctured rooms,
blades of delayed bodies
pushing air in parallelogram cubes,
setting a pointed star
of threshing floors,
the summit's flaking skin
a lidless eye pressed to red mica
in the hinge between worlds.

A platform of wrath from undersea,
the spilling claws and high-piled body shells,
lips stained together on a crying rock,
quartz mashed in granite eyes riding a flagpole
with no rope, on the prison shore
blooming with hyacinth chains,
long planks of men's faces and imaginary bars
gathered into a pile burned
down to an arm-breaking
paperweight.

Scales on the sky that have dragged
their dots and lines over the cum-stuck sand
to be draped in limousine gardens
where the guests lie stacked in uniforms,
greeting the under sky,
the stone's lid, the writing hammer
and the long sharp leaves of a shadow
without permission.

Blood-thick fingers stirring
in an upside-down glass.
Heavy heads breaking ornate necks.
Corridors that the stomach knows
in their numbered depth.

Sinkholes of rainbow gasoline
giving way to ink hearts,
a treeline sprinkled
with bottle caps and eyelashes,
the water punched and smoked
re-poured and poisoned
ultimately flowing over.

The black Madonnas among images of grace,
tying the ship to a whale heart
trigger in the clouds,
faces of grim beatitude channeling rain
and happy with the sun,
the ant hill salted with guns,
my twin mamas.

Stumped at the podium,
the drag line, the soup kitchen,
I wandered looking for my name.
I found it in burnt metal
at the back of a grocery store.
I propped it up on favorite icicles.
It fucked around with a readership.

Powdered memory, the king of a bucket of leaves.
Worshiped in refractory back circuits.
The prey of certain seeking conduits.
An armed looker making armed confessions,
the strength of his station
a portable rift that goes fishing.

Furs and fiery dosed coffee,
stacked against the thousand walls'
cartons of empty breakfast.
Taking another name,
with a bid-hand into the air,
I'll have that one, it's mine,
I will sear its framework
into these many minds.

Sludge and fist
and the joy of mercury
a ton factory for hollow brains
the holiness of slain dragons
consciousness captive to the host
lost in his loves and smash-ups
having out-run his mirror and remained

I will do away with this fossil nutbag
delicately for bronze-projected millennia
while he eats my cake helmet
and wraps my feet in seaweed
from his wet mineral drawer
pulling tags and salespeople aside
to make way to my heart

with a stretched letter of zero
a corked anatomy plug sheet
a monstrous cash flow involvement
hewing to the national murder
of the weak and hysterical
because their punishment
suits their central casting
and what central casting has selected
let nobody separate from destiny
let nobody unravel what destiny has afforded
let nobody ask and then what

Black frame variations
from within white flowers,
moving like gray ghosts,
my two mule binoculars
pick up the first flags of winter
only a few feet above
with a rush of sound,
a flock of nearly two hundred
signaling the cold thrushes to come.

Banks of majestic cottonwoods stand dressed like golden spires among the evergreens;
caps of snow timber and brush thickets resound with bird song;
stuffing themselves with berries to the point of saskatoon brush,
feeding on the dry bohemian waxwings
through the blood-red patch of eggs and fledglings done
craft and care taken in their building of a canyon to go
other of the tribe of the world.

Decorating the face with color, ripening the grass and splashing the leaves of the
mythical land: of Eden, California, an island
peopled by a swarthy, robust, passionate race of
women living manless chivalry and derring-do,
the past is also lovingly maintained.  The state is golden yet.

Among them all, only the rough timberline
on the mountains, the September larches stand
the first flocks of migrating sooty-gray coots showing up on the bigger lakes
with their sharp ivory-white beaks and beating

From nesting splitting the wind their way with short wing strokes
in diving they are element, graceful and astonishing--a joy of grace and power

For they are the biggest of all deer and move pure
blood stirring with the first
and small songbirds already gone.

High winding violin strings pluck pine
over the theater's web
dashing backwards on rubber screens
tying pigs' tails to an unfettered gate
a kaleidoscopic sock
dripping out of exhaust pipe
bent paths in skirts of washed-up gloves
tires molding land to a mound
of blood salamanders
tiny hooked spines and detached tails
the question mark of orange flesh
clinging to broken bark,
the diseased motor
of a dreaming tree.

With a light not my own
I pillaged my scarecrows,
they stood in a yielding rain.

Terrible glory of spent hours
hitting the wind, some heat
on the back of that beast's neck,
there he goes.

Chasing days over the cliff's lip
like grains of salt.

Along the ground
in a g-string
and feathered hood,
first body from
the core of the world,
making the sun and moon
see.

Criss crossed pines
on the fuming ground,
borders rubbing together
earth's gash clenching
wheels of rubber.

And the wayward path
loaded with golf balls,
pocked orbs stomped
under the root's emptiness
at every step.

A cold gun fired
inside the reaches,
tugged at by the webbing
of the mind,
trying to find the right
moment to erode,
the proper rift between waves
that draw deep
to lie down in.

Stone slab fallen on
what occurred to the heart,
to memory.

The circle's frozen water
and a bench surrounded by
no other benches
where he can sit with a sandwich
and wait,
for it to happen.

Embroidery of webbed and silken days
catching fire with the lust of one look.
Gridworks of little deliberate rivers laid out
for desire to crawl over
on hands and knees.

Airport Decembers where the phones
dangle like octopus.

A skate of fire's blade
over tumbling ice,
split trees nudging
through parted hair,
fern cliffs mushrooming
lichen'd lips, headboards
of rice paper breeze
fluttering over grass
mattresses, eels flickering
figure eights in mid air
with bodies of multiplied
eyeball, gravestones tapped
under the snow between
black piano keys,
mouth-searing scents
sketching notes
on the torn forest's
orchestra, a spring's cleft
spurting latex gloves,
a woman of water
holding shape in sunrise basins
where the lunar tug is lashed
to a leaning mast, the sword
of a fresh satellite
teeming with gnats of lightspeed
and gaining gods.

I am the hand of death
in a fringe of lace.
The tar mouth bubbling wheat
from a core of soap.
Icicles of bone's blood
shooting droplet hearts.
Muffs of steel
scratching eager arms.
Yards of mice in rows
crawling into a metallic light.
Years in rubber-wrapped parchment
aching for the lines of a studying palm.
Owl eyes in retreat
from an owl body.
Star pebbles eating
through the bucket sides.
And a foppish haircut
crawling stone and yeast
to drape what dreams regret.