Time's folded

and it can't

unstick and flow

I ride a spiderwebbed spyglass

across a bridge of dinosaur bones

to see you are the eye of the storm

that enwraps my life

belts running mineral scythes

around abandoned planets

could not cage you

in their ancient ways

I wait in a suit of extinguished wings

I wait for your love in a chair

that has just stopped smoking

you stand on a waterfall's lip

while the lexicon of light

pours out from under you

and I am laughing in the leaves

on the water's glaze

that ride to the whirlpool's fade.

Stalk's blood path of beheaded flowers

shimmering atop green rods of light

casting hooks into the sunset

that hauls them up for one last gasp

as the shells on the bottom of the ocean

drink from life

and the rusty crests of hills

rustle in the gulp

of enveloping power

I shrink wrap time's frozen morsel

and put it deep in a fire breathing trunk

whose hinges are matching the fingernails

of one who watches me depart

like saltless meat

into the belly of a vast slug

fissures darting on a spaceship's hull

that writes my name in liquid metal

to be sealed by her vision's flood

while the dams break bread for mud

the pines and ice of my surrender

roads painted for a globe's December

seed's pulsing root of crude.

The moon's wisps of cloud-caught light

rake the cracked auditorium

grasses with gummy eyes

spying through wrecked window frames

to the painted sperm and egg

of rain-swept prairies.

To a palace of glued leaves

to a blue and tide-high October

earth clenching its mad seams

oozes purple wrath

from lips beneath miles of red clay

the baked roofs of cobweb synagogues

forked lightning's promise of grapes

not aged or dried

by the singing scythe.

You've got that red fire

that I want on my tongue

you sculpt ponds

into orbs of dark light

and globes for the heads

of soothing scepters

you animate

the dining rooms

of the dead

with electric scars

and lay down

laminated aisles

for storms to flow in rows

and forms to find their vegetable matter

I dream of a dock

where dreams are finally fellated

in moonlight dream

like a lover of unmapped planets

dream with the yeast in my head

for the bread of my brain

hot bitch swollen

with the milk of my seed

drowning in daylight

drowning in the lightning script

of a metallic morning

drowning in the dreams of the damned

who sacrifice for a phantom

branches of space travel

are a tunnel of Christmas wreaths

and the trees on their wings are flying

when your desire brings my bones

to their desired end

staring upward into the infernal nexus

your beauty on stakes of rain

in the graveyard of my wars

a cabin for flowing water.

The butterfly's shadow

on a battered shade

scarves whipping in the air

around her in her flowering tresses

and flowered dresses

cracking the concrete walls

where she walks in twilight's fertile abandon

huntress of crushing songs

on golden paths that shine within

a magnolia orchard

the gnarled arms slowly spouting cones

that drop to her foot marked ground

and surrounding hallways of highway

for days of pain erased by her lips

prayers for her knees and hips

that I cast on a wailing wave.

She shakes

the veins between worlds

and the squirrels' tails

flying along the sides

of heaving rivers

she makes rabbits jump

electric shade

and the raided palace

erupt with healing paint

she makes the fences

bow and scrape.

Throngs in newsprint underwear

follow her down the pier

and into the dark water.

She has touched the sky

with colors like cracking ice,

made benches on bronze wings

fly up above

the trapped neighborhoods.

I sit on one that wobbles

through tortured knots of cloud

that push the quiet part

of heavy music

and melt the electric sword.

An ocean of leaves

opens up as I fall

past her mirth

and return to Earth.

Drag step elevated alleyways

a glitch in machine eyes

that leaves empurpled vertebrae licking life

boomerang journeys from a broken keychain

mouths grasping from beneath a conveyor belt

numb stacks of rubbery dolls

long bending poles of ancient light

wolf cubs tumbling a sun sacked valley

ghosts hand in hand on ice

blades hung from enveloping branches

lava crapped like candy

from a bank of alien clouds

five dragon tongues in one

our reaching DNA

pawing at the walls of this velvet matrix

that wraps the curtains in walls

and the walls in fire that has thoughts

green moon on the mushrooms and moss

fate gone to the river's branches

trees nude to the air that rends.

Wrapped in the result

of these barren days

I become an astral flower,

tides of orange paint

cover the staircase,

shadows of searching fingers

the spokes of enraptured wheels

formed from living water,

tubs of rotten wheat

that give birth to

a wounded slew of eyes,

the entropic mercy of rusted metal

planted in the camera's guts

a butterfly's blinking knives

the desert soaked in galactic color

a row of tribes

climbed cliffs of milk

to nuzzle roots

of the tongue tip mother,

laid out the breathing stones

with names and dried stripes

of bloody fur, the frames

of a desolate professor

unlearned by yearning rifts

between male and female.

There is a branch of heaven

reserved for certain redheads

a feather of melodic lunacy

that hovers eternally.

There are high crossbeams

that drip with blue and white birds.

Webs of light that broke

under the weight of gorgeous coal.

An octopus beak

lost in a chorus of wires

saddled with freaks

and thrashing for ancient fire.

Harmonies cracked

within their shells,

the split hairs

of whispering wires.

Skyscrapers bending like reeds

in the tumults and catacombs

of her hair,

spilling from starry clouds

and maps of blue thread
weaving mountains of dark matter

rose tinted sanctuaries of glass

her curvature of turned gardens

flightless wings in round pools.