Green fire crawls the grids

that veil with rust

electric alphabets

signposts impale complacent skulls

cross vertebrae within compliant torsos

the web injecting neon veins

a bulbous monocle eclipses teeth and tongue

cloaks burning nostrils

with a coiled vine

and crosses grinning billboards

in a lunar tide.

The zones are closed

to bodies lacking in official poison,

to tags without position

piercing synthetic flesh,

the flashing eyes ransacked

by forked reptilian tongues

retired into glass

and cases sealed.

What is rooted under bridges

and submerged in sagging parks

emerges in a thousand skulls.

My quill and inkpot's helicopter blades

cut cracking cells

loose from the unwinding sun.

I pray to the oak,

my costume stuffed with telephones.

Thanks for the shelter

that the deer shared,

and the dark road

that the loggers abandoned.

Thanks for the turning wheel.

For the woman who groveled

and the man who fell.

Thanks for the emergent soil.

There is a sun-rim plastered with daffodil

from which I run and return to

in the speed of dreams.

Filth hag, fermented in maggots,

laughter like the bark of a dog.

No corridor remains in light

but leads to sorrow.

We walk together through the vines of the air,

past the snoring cables

and the trapped souls.

Somehow they have all gone

yet surrounded us in time.

Sweet maid of dandelions,

first daughter to my growling birth,

bridge me with the land

on a beam of light.

How our lives unspooled here

revealing in rented rooms

granules of impregnable light

specks the wind could not wash off

strings across the moon that was kept

one seat left empty near the center of the room

where the guest of honor is always leaving

a ditch that becomes a solar runway

one fatal word.

LAST SUNDAY IN NEW HAMPSHIRE

And the temples are flooded with paper

like leaves from a tree

pouring from the garbage avenues

into sanctity, veiled across

the doorway of my soul.

Teeth lined up like pawns

on the array of flesh

eyes fading through the visible eraser

that uproots the sky.

Tarnished quarter on a curb

bright muscles and banter

hacked off away

from familial time

selling himself to a dawn

that never comes.

Following his green repetition

like a skunk under the moon,

dancing for the screamers

in the jagged thorny trees

coming out to water his shadow.

Blood the ocean under paint

and metal posts

a bone bridge over

the crying desert

one winking dime.

One more scraped out room

slabs of effort in transport

glossy wings around the glossy heart

mechanically breaking webs

from floorboards and flexed

windows flying.

I'm on the crest

of all my ex girlfriends

moved through stone

from all the pillows shared

and the high shelves groaning

one diamond horizon waits.

Through the tar pools

and sticky lit rooms

where we danced

carrying a rope of wires

amplified between our hands

I leave the springboard panorama

steam pierced and tingling.

You fogged yourself out

for a long time, still chanting

satanic prayers.

The bags of dead batteries,

the slowly dying spunk.

You used to stand without sleep,

you used to stay and rage.

With a thick friend

you'd rock the moldy armchair.

And your other friend would laugh

playing his rancid stereo.

A siren would be plucked

from the air.

And the lights of town would ooze

above the hilltops

that we could not see.

On a ledge I remember pleasure:

the kind of pleasure expressed by mouths,

pursed wincing or gaping.  Let the

colors cut time and run.

Lord, we hold our enterprise

in Your hands.

Let it not be harmed

by the necessary salt.

Your impossible task is ours

in flesh on this Earth.

Let the cells dance,

may the vein memorize

its only pure circuit.

Sentence the fungal creep

to come in on an open window.

Come invite the sunlight to kill.

Let me be its only wound

that never moves.

All your stances so aligned

with seeping death--

where is the programmer?

How do your sealed doors bang?

When the tumults of constructed green

soar skyscraper high,

and spout unrooted waterfalls

from hologram bouquets

where do the framed clouds fly?

In a wet perch of departed autumn

far between dancing cliffs

I am watching airplanes

wrapped in cloth

fall into a mechanical anthill

of liquid fire.

From a barbed wire coffin

from a chain link net

of sacrificed bikinis,

I fold my hands and levitate

and laugh.

Skeletons in satin sleeves

walking through wax hallways

with a frame of frozen blood

that they pass between them.

Goblet skulls to hold the junk mail

they fight with broken fingers

while the ink cascades

that feeds them poison wishes

and a cage of organs

to pursue again.

Slammed into the hurricane's waist

by a ghostly competitor

strung across the guitar mouth

with companion veins.

Leering over a glassy ditch

through a tumult of acidic leaves.

Gas tank soul

muscular above your shared vomit

still strangled at the gut

by an undergrowth vine

smoking naked to the sky

in a collected swarm of images

the bashed sidecar of time.

Perched where the feathers point

to the limits of blood,

where the stripes inflicted on flesh

extend throughout the surrounding fields,

electric stars assemble vast

intestinal constellations.

Smoking on a peak of moss

and communicating mica.

Brain where the gun sprays

on imagined marketplace

and subsides in languor.

Over the fields of tar

and concrete runways

a lightburst travels

heading for the braided corn.

Piles and piles of night

sky after earth's gone to ash

wafting past a moth background.

Rain from the ships

gone over dry sand

descending into puddles

as they disassemble

on their crater-hidden carrier.

My seat in the bronze bubble

where I pray to the gleam of a knife

knowing.

Picking out the ripped actor

in a beam from above

the seared shore

and a coughing weasel.

Files where the faceless names

are always kept

in hinges getting wet.

The spear's tip

is an eye.

Split hair

of a bomb's making

so combed into the ordered fray.

Freed from the chains of shit,

the paid joker's mask.

Walking the white and black linoleum

watching the curtains stretch

across an alien horizon.

My action figure hands

hooked along a barbed wire brassiere.

Defrocked priests of grass

strolling to the ramps on high.

The bitches of destiny go to war:

manes glinting in the spread of darkened light.

Chrome gloves for the hot trash

gathered at the plastic edge

of imprisoned soil.

Gymnast in the air eating air

springing from molecule to molecule

turning smiles into trees

establishing a steaming leafy ground

frothing invisibly at the lips

in tights turning

where the field triangulates into space

and the fake turf shines like honey

I climb a reef of braided hair

and turn the paper into flesh

with a medal gleaming.

The yards and sharp fences

where I walk through my scrolls

are pouring leafy lava

on my burst and tattered uniform.

Ribs on a railing

that leans to kiss the waterfall

elbow bones and tongue

laid back in the tension

of a sling shot

moon high and fading.

Chain links cracked and scattered

from the swindle of the vine

nest breaking from the coral snake

twine smoking around the antenna.

Hilltops mounting hilltops

under a metallic rainbow.

Carts of glass glued

to the unmoving arc.

Eyes lined in a volcano's ribcage

rows blinking and flashing.

Roots upturned with severed veins

to fondle the sun's

radiant indifference.

Neon popped and oozing

between the green leaves

eyes stuck to a web

that rides these greasy windows

knifing through a soaked forest

to find an emerald seat.

High wires that are calling

to an ascendant cloud

our mouths on either side

of a skeletal wall.

Always following the shaded path

with a veil of moss

in a nimbus of cracked water

long tooth merging from a third brain

into the outer air.

Magnificent sleeping vagina

of the heated woods,

their oaks and ferns in a dance

beneath the stabbed clouds,

wigs tossing on a field

of electronic poppies

my yearning brain sack

and departed sneeze.

A lot of hours land

heavily on me now

I no longer duck into the fizz

to disappear

and when I swing

from the  arc of the path

to catch myself

going the other way

there is nobody there

in the lights passing.

EXILE

Paths of long moth dust

wires with handholds

ascending a fog soaked mountain

in the stretched velvet circle and valley

where the expected figures meet

and tip their hats to the oil bitten rain

I am polishing a coffin lid coffee table

watching the wooden mirror dance

with dinosaur wings.

A rack of dusty glasses

on a bedside table with pages

afloat beneath an evaporating roof

the soaring ribbons of galactic spray

a notch above the belt of suns

bursting with lips and feathers.

Faces screened and beaming

from opposing worlds

antennas on a blinking house

signaling to a river of eyes.

Leaving on a blue flame

over the stacked and blown-out

cities.

Gold rooms

where the sad bones walk.

Long aisles through the paved woods

hedges hiding the diamond

where I would go to lie down.

Mailboxes with birdhouse sounds

touching the underbelly clouds.

Embroidered floors

spreading toward the sky's horizon

carried with a dance of obstacles

form riding in a cloud of butterflies

to be laid amongst roots.

Engine labyrinths

gliding over a flattened limb

a plastic island.

Podiums of salt

standing upright on broken cells

a microphone eye

crackling from the mouth

of a curling wave.

To the guardrails

latticed with flowers

at the end of a meteor's rusty trail

to the star on a tall pole

dripping with nectar and honey.

Float away from the game board,

until you fall upon me

over the arc you have followed.

I will blow you off, all of you

with my exploding blood.

A darkened corner

blossoming with tarnished stars

and blinking flowers.

Bones in heat curled up on straw

eyes lost deep between spaghetti veins

and stacked chairs

the steam of naked bodies.

Divinity in ash

crushed into a sleeping bag

watching girders fill with birds

frail pillars of crystal begun

on dreaming sexes.

The graph of stars,

spread over my naked sickness.

Signals casting in terrestrial slime.

A bridge between abandoned lives,

flashing and shedding scales.

Bright roads leading back to bones

in a cavern of guano.

The massive spider's thread

that dangles a brain,

a cemented spine,

frail alphabets dispersing

on radiant

poisoned waters.

Done waiting for the day,

the occasion, the hour.

Overjoyed with what exists,

matching the moment.

Watching the surface play

on the depths.  Made

useless for the leaders,

all the groups, all the carefully

assembled bullshit.

One man staring from a park bench

into the infinite

unpromised beyond.

Bones of black-eyed susans

sky's shell of reflected rock,

twin pierced ideas

flowing and holding.

Ghost catching over the old bridge

I see the reign of ice

in the stopped sky

a skeleton building fences

on a far replica

three stories high

sun scribbling on his skull

mysterious rings of fallen glass.

Doorways punched in mountain sides

for singing tracks

look through the storm's gold front

and oily curls.

My segment ship

moving through green after green

looking with dark eyes

upon the dawn's cargo

billboard shrieks and diamond harbors

where we cannot afford to go

glinting in the wincing distance

an empty chair

deepening under a solitary lamp

shoes on a chunk of ice drifting

and an open fall.

I thought I could chase every dream

and keep my soul.

Watch the worshippers of the razor

line up on a dead shore.

Me with a shrunken oar

on a floating splinter

in the spill of day

or chemically new light

rotating farther.

A hard road's reverse triangle,

masks powdered by bombs

in a silent cafeteria.

Seats where we spoke

to the fading reflections

of one another

fluttering through shade

beneath a balcony.

Help me to seek, to bring out

your pre-medicated body,

your long laughter and silent sneer

the river-led flight of your paycheck,

purple clouds above your fondling

sneeze.

In the bureau where I left my chains

on the plane of a stripped prairie.

In the narrow movement

stretching between lives,

where webs reach

from frame to frame

and glass thickens

a photographic chain.

On a pillow stomped flat

by the breath of a dinosaur,

one signature, one floating name.

The tedium without kisses lasted

until an avalanche of stars

broke the painted canyon open

in a breathing city.

Shale and mica hillsides

that guard the mountain's footpath

flowing with the tears of ice and moss.

Where a clouded sun ran

to the far side, and a moon

remained partly

hidden, behind the shifting maze

of the next day.

Flags on bloody spears

the flesh assembled for plastic gambits

an oceanic eye

where the configured haze

falters in a clear bang.

A jewel floating into the forest

so many thousands ahead

burning with the bushes

gone dancing on the network of screams

returning to a pine coated ditch

stumbling and laughing.

Solemn on the hard earned stump

of a peak scorched in battle

sowing the need of towers in stone

and metals for the protection of

many jewels.

Dance floors with a fungal shine

surface past my curtains of caterpillars

the drooling light

a table's beaten drum

the threads of blood

a garden learns to tease

a trampoline lung

soaring through the gravity

the sun bakes into spines

maps floating in milk and honey

solemn wheezing in the engine

a wizard's barbed wire tongue

in a rolled up room.

I gave them my lightbulb head

and they put it in a dumpster.

Banana suits barking

from the televised world.

Stinging bushes on the sidelines

poison berries.

Concrete pouring through the stereo

night.

The clutched cloth

of the damaged

a tall beer lurching

in a baseball dugout

waiting for the rain to come

bring me home clean

whispering the absent service

waking on alien sheets

the landscape of a deepened screen.

Potholes in the laundry parking lot

enlivened with eyes.

Mercury coming through

from the scorched distance

of the core light

in a thousand airborne rivulets

finding the leaves of a few branches

spiking the hollow veins.

I'll save a smile for when my blood stops

in this ribcage airplane

and the islands underneath

bridge to bridge blink out

from the pouring dawn of the sea

on the sculpted depths.

In the pine sunk ridge

where the mailbox opens

and the blueberries fall

to a white caterpillar

through the ring of stone helmets

on a hinge of ground

to call from the mouth of my drum.

Bent by a continental walk,

looking for a stump or flat rock

in fluttering shadows

of the unsure sun.

Doors that stay sealed shut

bulging through the seasonal ransack.

Reeds that sing to the shopping carts

and lay down by a clogged river.

Peak of lunar light

touching the inhabited burrows.

Hoisted to the infinite sail

made steel by a starry wind

watching the wood patterns

on a changing dresser.

Up against the gold sky

with a frond of green

to hide the passageways of flesh

that lightning flashes over.

Vacuuming the piano building

where the screens roll up to the rafters

with their graphs of bone.

A tapped maple

is singing in the Walpole woods

crown of snails and empurpled shadow

crouching around her pine

needle cradled walk

where I wait in my sheets of gauze

to be stitched and remembered.

Rowing with long arms

in a thin canoe alone

she belts up against

a riverside tree

and smokes with lunch.

Twilight diverges from

the turned sky

and the stony water's bottom

whose veiled architecture

she is searching

with a diamond studded rake.

Roots where I am clutched

watching from the eaten shore

where our song went with an engine once

parked deep behind a yellow painted door.

Standing in a vase,

looking over the people.

A courtroom lobby streaked

with my liquid shadows.

Granite squares in the fractured moon

of their departure.

And the scattered chairs

heaped with wheat

above the quarries

of their dreams.

Dug into the furrows

with my pain-pen,

paying tribute to the man

who walked into the bridge crash,

with his bald spot eye

open to the heavens.

Flannel flapping at the canyon

belts tied to the wailing trunks,

fruits of blood that tumble

among merciful teeth,

mopping a marble flag

with a granite mop.

The slender wires curling

around a stolen pillow

wigs in a closet of wood dust

piled high on the fetal adult

watching a mute screen

with letters that are daggers

from the sky.

Wings in poison rivulets

searching out the undead meat.

The human race is a torture chamber,

rattling tin walls with no escape.

An elongated nude

roaming ruined harps.

Tense on your keyboard

of empty space.  Peering

over the paint-run waterfall.

A plume of muscle stretched

to a single thread.

Horizon's chalk at the edge

of a piled bed

stool's lipstick drawn

fountain of ash.

I don't buy into the fireworks.

The ground whistles, a frog

squeaks.  The mask of wheat

closes over my bright

eager intestines.

A classroom bucks its chains

an isolated window

passing over torrid earth

an outskirt's red eyes

closing round a tar draped cathedral.

Book open on a wheel's mute horn

velvet belts and pulley's mold ropes

are stretched and singing.

Walls of sand

cemented in blood

where feline smiles glisten

rifts in the ice that sings

to knifelike tongues

in a glacial parallel

assembled from gassy shadows.

Pools shining through a clean skull

stitched into exploding poles

truck loads of severed teeth

descending to a silent grain.

Climbing the pyramid of glass

along the electricity of light

in every concrete seam.

Eyes across the desert

to the ocean surf

tossing and gleaming.

Veins in their symmetry

of ripped flesh

on a cast of bones

above the careful knife

that destroys all.

Blood covering the stone

and deceitful cloth

the altar's peak

sledge hammered and stale

with the unmoving moment

of gunpoint time

saddled moon and barbed wire car

all riding to the hollow end.

I'M FALLING OUT OF THE WORLD

I'm falling out of the world

and its ways.

Stopped on a gem, staring.

In the crosshairs of a delicate manufacture

the lens of which realm

a manhole covers.

Climbing the scaffold backwards

watching the spirits get sucked

into alley entrances

while the coal drenched vapors

palpitate with feathers

overhead.

Breaker of the matrix,

seeker of high clouds

come let me in.

The truck bed jostles in its haze

accompanied by bones

a tunnel parts the sky

birds following the seams

that held its passage to the stars

and darkest blue thrall.

Boulders touching the horizon

where man was made to eat meat

and dream of God

leaping to swim

what puked him out

bumping the molecules

with his belly.

Taping the crown of thorns

cracked with enamel

to his higher head

strained and reaching

above the crib

below the second sill.

An abundant cobra

screwing in the factory ceilings

with a light that pops.

Crows in their assigned perches

peeking at the oily ascension.

The lion's eyes

opening from a long sleep.

Peaks of rugged spires

glinting throughout the night,

the windows of fast vehicles in rows

flashing back from a procession of death.

At the end of the old paths

where the light caved

and the bike rolled into ferns

that wrapped its wheels

and called to whispering vines.

Staring from inside the wood

watching the skids on the crossroads

deepen into coal and oil

stripping my shadow down.

Waiting for the string to pull

or the long captured sky to awaken

waiting for the slut's arms

to wrap around my neck

and stay on my shoulders

remaining for the hollow wheel.

The radio talks of the chicken wars

the long strip highways,

the moon's rustling leaves,

a melted camera

sliding down a cliff face.

Microphones grow like mushrooms

on the corners of the mirror.

The vertebrate's crackle crawls

the polished wood.

A shining pyramid mattress

piled beside a wet lamp

the buzz of a gazillion letters

pieces of the space ship

sharing a common pillow.

Winding around the checker board

with a sun lit cart

cans on ice and chimes

blanket for the infinite armchair

the neighborhood sky

a book with a marker

under smoke.

Walks between the moss

and trees peeled between winters

letting the story fade

for another song.

Engine in a crotch

on a logging road

lightning and rain

tangled glass radio dials

slicked anal smiles

across the jumped set aside pieces

and revving stars.

These keepsakes

I rid myself of

rendered in time,

rendered in blood

the switches turn to red black

in a holy room

where she broke her bottle mouth

on my concrete lips

and split within the peach

of cloud shampoos

dripping down the wind shade

a shelter's wax walls

undulating beneath her wig.

Straps for the sun that speaks

across my numb fertility

Your lexicon of ice

on a tired planet

surf's tongue for dirty hands

a lunar dock to a hang a hook

or a ballroom flashing

for fur lined leather gloves

and masks of labial glaze

levitating in funereal highlights.

Spartans gathered around the TV

watching a newspaper ballerina

drinking her occluded eyes

through the funnel provided.

Kaleidoscope of sprinkled windows

decorating the scorched lunchroom.

And a black rainbow sunset

overlapping the rows

of microwave doors.

Couch cushion purring

to suck the syringe

a meek debrained antenna

bowing to the cemetery moon.

White hot blue night

with the chants of masks

and boiling water

with a wire and a howling dog

watching the current

flutter and sputter

over rounded rocks.

Secure in our armchairs

while the labyrinth's rage

moves snakelike in the wooden dawn

that holds a peeling milk can.

On my way to take down

the mechanical side arm

that talks for you,

swarmed by algorithms

in a protein crown of thorns,

slime of blood goes looking

for a fresh mold below

the dancing spirit,

cockpit dragging vast legs

and a golden electric light.

Warped circuitry

crawling its way

to the skin of the lion.

Mirrors dancing in suspension

seen across a freshly oiled room.

Spray falling from

the crystals of eternity

as they crash against

the tall latrines.

A clear table, a shining gel pill,

a tray with ash,

the departed reader

walking cliff's edges

smoking the last one

down.

At the deer swept door

of the pine's growth

the blinking light collected

a descending path

poured through the sibling trees

and the doubled sunrise.

Strings humming over a canyon

that reflects the grain

a sky dispersing into space

first brush

through the rattle of the branches

above the fecal candy.

Window cracked

with an exhausted rose

birch peeled by the abandoned auto.

Green shrouds topping the bridge.

Moon scraping at the outer wall

a cemetery crawling.

The goat sound in narrow caves

echoing flutes and drums.

Her curved frame and long hair

the leap into the quarry.

Tapes of a roar

that makes blood trickle through the speakers

submarine hearts in their reel of rage

blindly connected.

Dim rays, breaking into violent flower.

Branches eating through the tank

of programmed woes.

A pole with an eternal eye,

a searching set of lips.

The setting of a bronze sun

propelling lunar dust

over the bright

rough planetary skull.

My fiery double

walks with me through halls

of luminescent ooze

that flicker from

dying doorways.

Wires feeding grey skies

dark systems of blood,

the sand's grain staring

within compressed trillions.

A severed tongue cast far

to the galactic outskirts,

drowning in a carpet

of documented stars.

Finally I'm a sad pharaoh

surrounded in my church room

boxed in by all the pictures

I have taken.

Cymbals of a glad song are gone

to the furrowed woods

and the high paths for reels

of rubber.

Bridges extend past what ends

in my open summer

and barns levitate

on the avalanche's grain

my claw strikes the unwritten window

at the cemetery market

afloat in the articulate ooze

and fangs of autumn

one wish that they are cooling

one brought down to bone.

TO THE VALLEY GREEN

Bulbous rifts,

vast symmetries

percolating.

Light bubbling

up through the dawn

of the waters.

Forms in their strangled mercy

I'm an American slut

I'm a fucking male cunt

seeking to search the changing mirror.

All the hotel's people

bring their mimicry of God to me

as they surface past

their numbered doors.

I am the sidewalk holder

a concrete gun

to protect my enemies

while astrally they bend me over

I guard the stars

I'm a fire drinker

the king's pawn

eyeing the crown

the queen's pussy seeker

to regain the sun

and bathe in the dark lemon

to fuck the gates of time

and descend screens

in fertile wires.

Paint blots on the desert trail

where we followed

the sacrificial lamb.

And the highest cabin blinking

with electric light

in the cleft of the peak

antennae squawking.

Pages that a blood fit

epoxied to the brick

an elliptic heart.

Red doors

in the cemetery heat

above the granite crosses.

Lichens crawling on

the rocks that have broken

the hilltop's gaze.

The mule in the well

in a yard far below

piled with ash

and soapstone trophies

sprung by a wild tail.

When we were bare in the pasture

and the big cloud split

the fence rails crackled

and rain poured on the rocks

there was no electric need to move

though the moss ran with flashes

and the otters ducked

back into the shining current

slapped against the trunks

      of wailing trees.

A mask of radiant fists

holds the resisting fibers.

Fingers curled toward

the dead light

of a heart besieged.

Flowers from the arteries

that mushroom into

blind gold.

A vessel that moves

only enough to speak

or the sides of a vast ark

splitting and bleating.

Where do we find

the love of peeling paint

in the breath of tragedy

the slings and barbs

of hot air balloons lifting off,

into the sun we cursed

through the clouds we believed in.

Playgrounds for the aged

floating on celestial rivers

stars deleting gaps

threading a particle's mystery

chain link holds

the dancer's bones

the letter and formula laid

of an ocean's crashing

the drowned tree's lady

arms and legs

a kiss of fading leather.

HALF MOON

I can see the half in shadow

and the bright divided and waning

through the open door.

Wet fenceposts in muddy clusters

pouring out of a tunnel's mouth.

Leaves and painted medicines

wrapped around the edges

of disappearing walls.

Tools and their energy of bone

left drying on the rim

of a fountain.

Dusk gushing over the passageway

where it all departed

under a fungal glaze.

BLACK FRAME

Bring to me flowers

from the hillside,

from the cedar cleft

from the willing boughs,

snapping and riding

pour your selfhood out on me

with soft ridges that can't

grit together.

Shiny wagon comes for my bones

cutting through the grids of green

screen rumbling above the underground tunnel

warbling like crippled sperm

in a sealed egg world.

They are watching fake fighters

fight a fake fight.

The dome sways

with computerized effort.

Cameras move on cue to watch

without eyes what is not happening.

Roots pushing out

from a fractured wall

pulsing like the tongues of snakes.

Arenas that kaleidoscope

from the heart of the main stage

ropes that twang with a sad laugh

and an elated gasp

as the clown has been punched out

and keeps rising

backward to the fore.

The star smashed glass

singing through concrete levels

my girl of wires and curtains

from days when I was touched

by clouds and the claws of bubbles.

Cemeteries lined up

by a shoreline kit string.

Fossils and ghosts laughing

up into the sky.

The table is laid bare with light

the room is open wide

the doors are putty waves

and ribbon tongues

my sheets are flying through the halls

the windows are aware of time

a milky way of sandy bulbs

gathering at docks without legs

afloat on reflection.

Streets burned into the scalp

of the planetary cousin.

Rails overlooking

with their crooked lenses

kept in the scope that glued them there

shining with the density

of the blind sun.

Over the forks of green

and escaping railroads

across the rubber fields

and stalks of rustling grain

basketball blackboards and empty hoops

where the wind is talking.

Coming out of the wide

soapstone walls

of a wild palace

nostrils ringed with aerospace hair.

Oval frames of gold

photographing space.

Yarns unweaving the bronze

courtyard.

Symmetry of leaves

dancing through stain glass air.

Rippling hills under horse-leapt fences.

The tears of breaking ice cream parlors

on a car-swept face.

I couldn't find a place among the people.

They washed me with salt but the grime

would not come off.

Lines of sun flow over me

in my gored unicorn basement.

Screens flicker from the corners

where a skeleton fell.

High up, in the mortar and brick

of the attic, my own ghost walks.

Burnt core of a microwaved butterfly

a tin pan face glinting at a malicious mirror.

Ruts that deepen into valleys

glittering with crushed coal and fool's gold.

The wood mask of pink flesh

conjuring milky veins from a snowglobe jungle.

Red dusk above wilting stones

hill's aftermath of bones

staring into moonrise.

As the bridges that I cross

rain brick on thundering beaches

and the hollow rind

pops on radiated snow

I still recall her spray of echoes

in a vine becoming song

an electrical racket

makes my way

a spoonful of fireworks

and ruddy bass

that she serves.

Sun's bent shriek

on a waterfall mirror

with a lizard's tongue

where I come awkwardly

to nip at bread

her ring of arms and mortar.

Pulling up her long scarves

and entwined tendrils

slick beneath the pubis

deep money leaves painting

with a fang, a capped whip

and a pepper.

Pasted furs and spiked hat

black ballerina slamming a garage door.

Limo sliding out of the woods

an airport strobe

flashing against her eyelashes,

my spent sheath dangling

from her anklet,

nail flick like a cloth wrapped claw

her laundered sense of cool.

Birds, blue-ribbon ways

steer me far

from the golden edge.

Fringe fences rotting into swampland

disc lights in the invaded sky.

Blue night in frills and thighs

commanding my blood to service.

Dark lips finding

what was bone and skeleton's verse,

high descending plumes

some asteroid glory

or comet fiend

finding love in fire.

I have become my own death dwarf.

Droning between the snow laden trees

matching footprint to root after root.

Seed creeping up on the cemetery.

Grey rocks and their pads of lichens burning.

Fences for the blood

long eaten and entwined.

A rounded path in the radiant

green winding down

to a mercury lake.

The treasure of irises and curves

sap fresh in the morning and mouth ready

big ass pressed against my face

eyelashes batting across a satin window

what spills through the portals

of my living room

and answers the machine

while standing upright

assembles in light

with lips like a whole alphabet

laughing.

I am in a pyramid of the crown

that is cradling the earth

alone in the fiber that I followed

through the rip between worlds.

A thoroughly plumbed rind of flesh

scarecrow at the bus station.

Staring out through the rafters of sand

waiting for his suitcase to emit

a pool of snakes.

Flailing ships and long

disconnected circuits

attaching to the throat

that calls them home.

I kept flying

on the waves of blood and grass

over apartment graveyards

and the city scents

disintegrating in the town trees

where a dooryard

assembles artificial light.

Landing on couch after couch

with a dust cloth

over me.

Kissing the foreheads

of statues fallen

in oblivion of fire

setting the night's fragments

up against a morning brick wall.

When we dropped by

that chick's place

to pick up some ghetto bud

was a long time ago

diamonds flickering from the yard

her hair in long braids

across her sweater'd back

we leapt around the estate

for her enjoyment

highways roaring in a secret socket

abloom on dying days.

My emptiness fills up with your death.

We were partners on floating chairs,
watching the same river

from a split window.

You were microwaved in smoke,
I was in a gin dream and beer aftermath

getting ready for the Salvation Army.

Together we wobbled on

over the concrete curbs.

Watched the mechanical brooms

cleaning up the grey blue

Massachusetts street,

two thrones coming home

to New Hampshire.

Near the stream a bulb

bulges and slants

toward the darkened sun.

Mossy serpents tangling

with electric wire.

On the flat, upraised stone,

a poet sitting with his last beer

watching his future mutate

on the oil slicked pools.

The flying fences of a floating world

jostling with cloud bursts and running jokes

the boom boom of ramps under marchers

metallic phalluses bouncing on ruddy pavements

a symmetry of skies

mopping jet windows

with bristles and furs.

Lunch hobo birds in blue-ribbon ways

I sowed my green seed in the earth

and it sprang and sprang

from among them.

Rings of fallen fire

the cracked and speckled eggs

swimming in the shadows

of these graves.

Discs landed on earth

that become the landscape

long roads carrying sightless plows

and dead charms

that bump buried windows.

Climbing through rips in the woods

and neighborhood holes

to find you stunned

ready and willing

with inner fire.

Established in smoke and singing bones

flying from a springy chair

a ring of iron feathers

overlooking the wooden empires

moving with a satin heart

one limb with a crooked eye

to bring you home.

Tufts exploding the horizon

that sway with low hanging flowers

bike's frame and supple gruel

a floating window's ax.

Wrapped in the fading glaze

of a fallen sky

a pile of bent buds

flowering into electric panels.

Water tanks on stilts

that touch a foggy precipice.

Pines showing sap to a breeze

of oily brine.

Knives in their apartment of shadows

growing taller than the cities of earth

a grid's thirst of thickening blood

and its rising tongues.

Climbing icy breasts

of the valley's hill

to the peak and concrete furniture.

Sharing a square in the sky

a whole series of squares

ending in a mattress.

Full throated I follow on wheels

and woodland paths

your heart shapes

and shivering nothings

that inhabit.

Waking first

in a tower of languid light

a church of birdshit

shelf speckled with the books that clung

and the ones that fell

outward to the thorn

of consciousness she keeps in her panties.

A sliver of grace

in the cracked hourglass

serpents prowling the yield

of summer frozen in boxes.

Folded scales of what's fallen

on strawberry paths

for the roots of a mountain

to drink bodies.

Ferns and feathers

arranged around

my hollow head

roaring with sunlight

a lipsticked

leaf.

In the cage of breath

you hover with a common radiance

and pedantic mouth,

chattering above the rocking oven

ascending in a rocket ship's swimming pool

halls caked with plastic mud

black holes overeating in the far reaches

the bones of asteroids

near an imprisoned sun.

Ice dripping through the shell of speech

the frozen dancer's body

suspended on a garden of thorns

and assembly line beds

ash flakes crossing a telescoped square

a peeled horizon

throwing off quill clouds

and dismembered shelves.