a solid ham of woman
thick-hipped with a big stern wedge of a head

stomped on my bag of potato chips
on the subway car's
quickly moving floor

my chips exploded under her foot
like a dried old sack of kid skeletons
blonde shards landed in my blonde hair
and she picked one off (pulling a lot of hair with it)
popped it into her mouth, and said
"this is new York, faggot-ass".
I almost liked being sworn at like that.

Yes, she was a big wedge of a woman
fist-fucking all the tunnels in the world
with her terrifying body

Mint cities, into death's silver,
the splendour of so many dogs on so many hillsides,
tucked redness, flickering green, touched redness,
fingering lilies, misplaced octopus tentacle
shoved suckers & saliva down
the open mouth of a rose.

Yellow cities, linked hallways,
hand-holding briar-walkers sporting an oath,
holding dim coals in their hands, black hallway
reciting. And the church alarms, and the grope
near the water fountain, and the secular bells,
and the magazine racks covered in wilted magnolias.

City horses, country horses, stunned ices
covering stunned ponds, smooching with bare lips,
lips barer than the first human, naked in a naked world,
and the baby-pink bats so gently
floating over the corners of the golf course.

Blue cities of the undamned, blue fountain
allowing a yellow flame between such frozen plastics.
Poles of frost are standing next to other poles of ice
all over the graveyard.

In the forks of trees, vagina-tight, a force is hopping hot
under many leaves, the air is staggering through
my nervous system, all driveways are smooth & open
to the entrance of cars. There is no ugly reason now
for worlds to end.

And the truth of a lemon, the layered yellow,
the yellow into white, the beach-chair experience,
all wetness wetter than any skimpy oath,
a girl in summer, locker room metal, drummed
by a steamy array of half-broken hands.

A loyalty shattered neatly into fourths, three bulks
re-united, a bicycle silence, a humming,
a humming in the dragon flys by afternoon. Rotten
place to start, but, a sandy shore re-opened in the fog,
rocks with bitter chemicals in their frozen bellies,
broken under a chisel in the certain rain,
the rain chiseled open by a brighter littler rain,
the rain-birds flying.

Forgotten built people a concrete river,
corroded into beautiful
long after their absence collided with town.
Many years after beauty had begun to sink in,
stupid people tossed garbage & unnecessary rocks
into its long tongue
and the slithering stopped. Pass me that beer.

Gulp, I am going to make your body music,
I am going to watch you closely, with total attention,
until you become very attractive to yourself.
I am telling you this river about the story
because I know that you will very beautiful
before (during the years
of your ascent in radio static
and your parent's obliteration) become:
your absence collides with me, beautifully.

I'm going out on an icicle to see a hard little world
all you ancient skinners
gather around me as I howl
there is a storm in the tea cup
there is a storm in the rain
there is a storm in the storm
on a plane skimmed
by rice eyes
in a lunar week

all it can be is a pin
it can't go any farther
it can't sell its coin to a handless coin
nothing is holding its outward
nothing is inward in summer
summer is doors and an outward teeth
grabbing you elevator in
the teeth between a straw
the teeth between a--

eating, in the hollow shaft--

outside in a sycamore sat
outside in a sycamore sat
a Chaos cat
a Chaos cat

nobody knew where the machine was hiding its olives

marijuana poems for dickheads on hell
rang softly in bathroom hallways
while the engine ticked like a bug

the whole kitchen-mass heaved
in a clean white fur
pigs don't purr
they snuffle hoses
long in skin

I'm waiting on the darkside of your tailbone
pouncing on waiting rooms
with an old tongue

The kingdom wants, the kingdom wants,
the kingdom is just
a diluted batch of humans.
If you cannot see their up-close faces

they seem like a machine of god,
but they are not.

Sorry for you, the dog-whistle blows itself
and the dog smashes a window.
Your dog is a love coming for you between
(furry & frothing between!) all organizations.

He is licking at his own mouth, he is happy
to be a chaos, he does not know that he is a chaos,
he does not know that he is happy to be a chaos

and I love him
and I want to take him away from you.

I am worried about the heat flagged down by mercy
that makes red dust whirlwind itself
in perfect DNA spirals
on skinny country sidewalks.
I am worried that walking there
will fill my head with babies
and your belly with leaves.

And I am worried like a broken priest
when you come to me,
soft-bellied and sensual,
tense as a newborn crying.
I am worried that I will make love to you for ten hours
behind a guardrail
and make you very late in coming home
to all your other husbands.

And I want to meet you in a whirlwind
on one of those broken paths
nameless and alone, unable to see
one another, feeling in the powerful dark
sunlight.

I am worried that my voice goes on too long
in the wrong places, and stops crucially
when it would otherwise
become a part of your body.
I am worried that my voice cannot
love me in an echo from a woman's body,
and I beg you to shut me up
with your hands beside my knees
and your rear-end on my mouth
while you rip up the grasses, solemnly
like an angry child.

Who will kiss my sister's hands
and witness the wind through my brother's hair

and who will play the violin for them
when the violent go to bed

and who will pray for them
in the night sand

when the telephones die

and who will comb my tiny sister's hair
and care for the fracture in my brother's eye

and polish every rough to a jewel
as the sun is a radio sky

I hate that young man:
he wants her to keep his cunt
in her back pocket,
and he hears it laughing.

She is no longer slender enough
to move through a modern town
without painting a few smoky people
with her non-vital organs.

And I hate that boy:
when she feels herself becoming plump
with every movement on the sidewalk,
she also feels him, following her.

I want to take out the cords
from his excited neck
and watch him wobble around like a sick turkey,
trying to look at her.

And I want her to place her breasts, so sore
from being hunted, in my hands
by bending forward, to rest her brain
in my lap, while he watches from a wrecked triangle:
the brokenness of the stupid shapes
he's created in the air with all his watching.

the kingdoms of the world will try
to get their buckles onto you
(you've gotta steel inside
their infant firepower)

police parenthesis
put a hole in my mouth-area
so that my mouth can eat other mouths
in a mouthlessness without end

there are no kingdoms under you
there are no kingdoms over you

but who can stand inside their firepower?

the kingdoms of the world will fall
into a pulsing kingdom hole

but who can stand secure inside their longing?

and who will braid my sister's hair
and who will touch my brother's voice
and who will kiss the walls inside the ruins

Who in the trees
will come down to the beach
to kiss you in front of the sea
the sea that is covered in beautiful trash

While a woman in a blanket heals my wounds
and who will lay your blanket on the sea
Ms. Melody
and break your sister on the sands
while the radio plays:

And her epic fingers,
and her legendary torso,
and her feet smelling of limes my love
punctuated by sweet sounds dot dash;

who will stand behind the lens and,
affectionately,
let her pound her pianos with hammers
in a little boy's dream while the radio sleeps.

my little sister sleeps on the porch
(while we all sit inside, loving her)

Florida is a little blonde shoe
at the foot of her bed

while the antennas drown in sound
I kiss her dirtyblonde hair--

--pray protect her from the sound in my head--
pray protect, from the whistling also blonde

boys in the street
who whip one another with thin

shredded pieces of truck tires.
Then in the haze

between stations of light, the air;
the sweet air turns brunette

and all the crumbled systems go to war.

looks
like
you've
got
a

big
handsome
clitoris

step
inside

we'll
find
you
a
belt
of
tongues

what

was

the

first

word?

and, um, this is dizzying to ask, but

how

did

it

happen?

I'm
trying
to
look
dignified
and
serious

(as
if
I
will
be
important
to
futurepeople)

for
the
girl
who's
sketching
a
profile
of
my
big
nose

if
you
continue
to
use
that
facial
cream
to
make
your
self
look
younger

your
face
will
shrink
into
a
tight
little
rectum
of
mottled
and
distorted
features

surrounded
by
overly
conditioned
hair

a
head
that
looks
whole
bursts

and
reveals
its
brokenness

the promise of religion

I
can
put
you
in
the
center
of
history

with
your
dick
in
your
hand

how dangerous it is to hope

sunflowers on the roof
a mouth full of salty dressings

a hot shadow holding you in a hailstorm.

how dangerous it is to love

two legs that brush each other in a dugout
oil running down appeased volcanoes

the dark under the eyes
stricken with sudden youthfulness.