Find me in the fire walker's trance

find me in the slot belonging

to a clapping coin machine

smoking by the glass walls

close to an exploding rose.

Mine is the shadowed space

between these towers of empty cans

mine are the scoundrel's wings

beating homeward nowhere

for a ring of solemn flower green relief

where electric fame's inducted into sleep.

Skies are raging with the forms

collected in an omnibus

these vertebrae balloons

ferns emerging in an empty room.

Rain delaying death comes pouring out of the dusk

memorized lusts all burned away by living flesh

the appetite of blooming canyons

calling to my mossy painted bones.

Ropes of seething memory

that tighten over ebbing cities

lax lines of light

dripping dark ecstatic praise.

Ruins of distorted tales

licked into twitching shape

by the passing of angelic rage.

I crouched in blasted rooms

stitching ink into floating bubbles

deep within the windows

holding clouds from some high abyss,

painted rust of unkept daydreams

crackling in long curved halls.

In the oven was a luminous egg

sending fractals into meditative space,

vibrant with the needle seed

threading space like gravy,

porous as the seething sun.

I took a phantom train

and attached our windows

walked the treadmill concrete

watching lights digress

water glints like mercury

among the night grasses

reflecting signs of ages fallen

easels of the wavering and damned

drone bees who lock in on dreams

and color dying high beams

festivals of bone vibrating

symphonies of sizzled milk on coal

Your visions of humanity

are all bereft of blood

and null and void of taste

to poison horns of light

with masks of gray

and pull the plunging ink tongue

from the frothing brink

where sinking ships

are filled with laughter

and pearls return the grain

that gave them form.

How I long for a revival of the heart,

to see the dawn drip with ancient promise.

A plank paved by galactic violence

leading endlessly to altered space.

Sanctuary of salacious mercy,

take me into your neon crunch.

Teach me to shed my seed

on this wavering canvas,

move me into a resounding spark.