Wednesday, April 02, 2025

Fierce letters printed on wilting skin,
a glaze of blood to polish timber
and take down the skies,
hands clasped on the disc
of an airport dining table,
zones of ordered paint
rushing sentient space,
I can't talk, I must stare
into the voidless yawn that crackles,
I must know its unforced embrace
where the parched ground heals
and wounds with wetness,

bridges cross the chasm's
multicolored light,
my delicious torment redeems
the tragedy of my elders,
I see wings in shit, the corpus
emblazoned with frauds
that have become genetic,
the stones go quiet
in their slow decay,

the water wades into me,
I am a sea invaded
by this unwelcome body,

the eye is all, the poles of vision
are making shapes from a hell
of elaborate echoes,

the sun cools on waning rye

my wallet is a folded leaf
that holds a supernatural seal,
the gash of a gone root waits
my feet are numb to finding
the sleep of mercy ends in ecstatic birth.

Tuesday, April 01, 2025

QUIXOTIC

All my life I'll just be a fool.
I'll fuck it up, probably on purpose.
Murders will happen because of me
but I'll never be there.  This
is the paranoid eye that searches
only for a certain frog.
This is our earthly home,
that leaks and screams.
I am absent from the rituals
of birth and death, my attention
is elsewhere.  The obsessive
carving of reality must take place.
The gift I don't deserve
must be shredded into
shimmering fragments.

Man must survive on the salt
of dead ideas.  This skin
is a kind of armor I put on,
and it doesn't work.
This cactus tongue
is milky as a neon pen.
The frame falls off
from the jagged landscape.

I am aligned with the dying god,
with the ones of this world.
There is no other seeking.
Luminescent curlicues unfurl
on a cold horizon.
They are not straight, they tremble
like frozen lashes.
The way the blankets heave,
the dome of space has opened up,
a voice without language is calling,
calling.

Sunday, March 30, 2025

Tentacles of ephemeral fluff
retreating from the light of hate
shores of naked angels on plastic sand
shadows loving under tentscapes
of plaster branches
wasp wings moving over marble sheen

Saturday, March 29, 2025

Vines from death
reaching over abandoned racetracks
flowers of a raging bulb
that knows the grip of soil

worms flicking the beginning
of angel wings in blood gravy
long tubes of light that linger
in dead halls

a walking spine
that flounders like a sleeping dancer
the stench of millennia
all gone from a long bone bridge

the flanks of passing ships
alive with tangled circuits
their cycles winding closer
to the sanctum of the pilot clown

one pyramid of clear glass
under fiber optic oceans
bioluminescence simulated
by a dragging hand

Friday, March 28, 2025

The reins of spirit snapping
in the furrows of galactic night
where orbs are born from burning mercy
rails of a vaporous train
rivers of electric mud
scorched thorns in arabesque of longing
smashed maps of many lamps
ghosts limping over dream-born mattresses
chains leaking from a ruptured iron cloud
that the seamstress of these wastes allowed.

Thursday, March 27, 2025

The vein that goes all the way down
bronze light of divine tentacles
faint bubbles of broken speech
seeping into space
from a cave of pearl rapture
purple pentagram neon eyes
and pinball paddle thighs
the mask pierced by handcuff capture
heartbeat's colored panels turning
lane to prismatic lane.

Monday, March 24, 2025

Cocooned within the wreckage
with these laughing scars,
past loves revealed as psychosis,
quartz walls around remembered parties,
treadmills of omega
scriptures written in unyielding steel
somewhere in an active cloud system
the poison knife is tracking electricity
walls go up like wings to ride
the wind of death to rumors of a different life
untangled into grim surrender
cloves of purple rent from gray
stacked flowers of concrete
on caving plaster.