<><><><><>

Smashed diamond with towns in its slanting sides
 smashed diamond hides all the time
  glacier deep in its kisses departing
   shards of sidewalk to the moon
    drubbed with drunken foot

<><><><><>

A mysterious siren, my brother as I
must be rounded or flung high
into depths that clutch upward or downward
circuit the same light dull dawning
or trapped light in the belly of a mule
lips on cruise control body talking
or trapped light in the light of a cubicle
vacuumed land of the vacuumed man
a grey-rugged hell strewn with skin
peeling from being, dying cells in hexagram
dying, flirting with terror on a surf's
     promise

<><><><><>

The scorched cemetery of desire:
 fearless wind, no dagger, minimal
 conflict of bones, the cliff-faces in evening gowns,
    a hardened mystic, chest-wound in the golf-cart,
   fluttering of the thing houses of fools
    spattered by their own idiocy, hating the hollow
                                                                          dawn,
                                                     and jazz, and loving
                                             only their streamlined reptile.

<><><><><>

A morsel of my humanity
    preserved on the cliff's edge: the scarred
      neighborhoods applaud with streetlights
                                                 and wire.

<><><><><>

The face carved backwards: the spirit carved backwards.
The whole hideous self a wasteland of swollen milk.
Frisson in eyelids, in eyelashes, in long and curving and strong
and slender branches, that hold the climber with hands that walk upside,
down, lines knotted with other lines: mercury vapor, no face,
wildly edible poison, everywhere, the landscape inhabiting masks.
Telephone of ozone cracking like a June bug.

<><><><><>

Fluctuate between two beams fledge
               of the same, both denied
 bodysnatcher of dreams,
                 scaffold on empire's sidewalk
    which we walk under,
       partner in partner in parcel
                  to be parceled to power,
       within and without, trigger
           on trigger, demise on demise,
     until we fall prey, to the same light,
        absence's remainder: a space
      for those revisited by life to walk.

<><><><><>

Foliage of white marble
  perishable that, and perishable this
     marriage of total will to shadow
      lineage of ripe metal
    sparking and flanging the cavern's eyes
  hurry of water state for water
    speak for water hurrah for water
  tongues of amber sunrise over the yellow hills
impermanent record of imprisonment
  stranded on razor's nothing burnt civilization
   nothing to live for nothing to die for one with the heart
     breathing cages and piping calls
      bodies unalone, restlessly
        never free of one another
          never free
      city of functionless behavior
 unnecessary empire
      toil of fools
         disengage yield yammer of twilight
    fuck off into a fault-stammer

<><><><><>

With dual swivel electric hair
 we will beat, skin on these
   skin drums, until your prisons
      melt like taffy
    for the wounds of the poor
        and the mutilated.
   There will be no rest.
The glowing presence of different chemical joints on a highway
 pop-up trimmer for sideburns or mustache a deluxe lighted mirror
  sulfur and the dark blue streamers are richest and rear twin mats
    vanishing point ake up a whole
      in the same manner for car acoustics
       and flatten the roofs.

THE SKUNK SOBER

I dump licorice down my throat
 and avoid looking at the landscape:
   kissing your face, eating your ass,
     whoever you were, I knew you
         perfectly, and in return
                             I am lofted strangely
    so that the vague and pagan
              about death might dance.


The picnic levels that face out
  from corridors you walked, next to
       the ocean, drinking light
          from the erupted mirror,
           hair combed, ready for
             departure, ready for
                  helicopter
   you laughed with my ladies and everybody
       read the above and nixed it
           with a charcoaled thumb,


--it's too new, then too old,      
  plus it's one too many poems
   about rimjobs--but it's not
   about that, that's in addition to:
   love, it's great, I would just--
    drop a comma.


  My face went plaid with wine
   two American suckers at the
                   windowsill with drinks,
 tossing curses at the powerful
laughing hard, praising the customers of laundry
we painted 9 a.m. yellow ourselves
dabbed in gin to freshen the brush.

<><><><><>

With two quills protruding
                       from my tail, the feeler
          of space made blood,
  mercury paper a stillborn wall before me
     speaking is death under the vents of the mushroom
     speaking is death under the gills of the tower
     erotica blitz eyes covered with bookish lashes
      smile up tilted in the slash of a page edge
          remnant of beach peninsula follicle
                          glow fiber under the sand electronica

<><><><><>

I feel the burden of my tradition
 those who fought beauty out
         of the air.
 From a bejeweled position
     I stare out into the shit of night
The enlightenment of crones
                      descends like chicken feet
                                    on my head.
  I am rumored to be starring
       in several dimensions, a this-lifer,
               happily trapped in the cycle
                        of actions, the conqueror penis
                  comprehending
                             the insides of mankind.