Perched here, on the twin crests of my being,
burned by your razors and singing
the song of the planet in motion.
Time moving now will be stopped cold.
Time held up by force will shatter
to get through in fragments.
I sang in healing and roared to smash
did both best backward when blasted
broke myself with my own sophistication
and now I am a simpleton, delayed boy
looking for love in the static between
all the strong faces.

On a balcony of earth, over the stilled tasers crackling,
positioned twixt these impressive structures
that endanger the lives of human beings,
kissing the shadows of rocket fuel on each other's faces,
from the engine that burned a galaxy down yesterday,
time moving now will be held and cubed.

Shrines are hopeful, the day eats travelers
all the grapes are sweet and almost as big as a doorway
the color of this red velvet when a water pool forms a path
furred at birth, disks on its fingers and toes its horns grow sideways
leather and gold jewelry soothing the frantic beast
love of the stars translated into desolation, marked
with oblique pale bars he'll jump out of the pit

All wild pigs was a blind girl uses large strap-on solid electric pulses per
stirring of leaves, two blank pages brightly colored industrial noise
small bags of fine sand acid at ten centers a truly zen-inducing portable
soap, toilet articles, and shoes whose exhaust is similar to that tin hound a heavenly body
behind the gill cover he uses his magic to rob cold-blooded creatures of the tropic shell
wings, belly, feet frilled lizard and thin, leaflike ear

Concerned females, inflating air sacs feed on seeds and insect maggots
underparts are pale air filled with feathers through the lava fields
shapes and serendipity weighted by his golden almost eel-like appearance
a loud booming call with the whitest head where they were born
to see the flowers nodding the mud with its long fingers and bloodshot eyes
his ragged teeth cut strips of magnet between which you sandwich your image

Homeless by the tremor in plastic-product protecting their fleshy stems
waterproof skins, and leaf pores and trim, half-timbered towns treacherously massacred
by energy from the original home of life on earth, with its gilded dome
and marble columns as storage basins  for heat to make a single pole
that is perfected and integrated eye worm, which penetrates the eye
as the house shrew, which is weaned among small insectivores,
pink or pitch-black lakes, hot mineral hollows in plants

The tapes upon his death a monorail in natural settings
the remarkable body lies on the ground waiting among the rivers, castles, and mountains
vast gas fields, open pits from which the sleek pants-boots were worn classic
stained glass distances in space and time pushing the vine down with background pieces
songs of local beauties beloved, fiery horses are reared to savor each sex as the fish mature
and the ground cover burned with sharp contrasts between the columns
crashing of monkeys by the closely woven colored flowers roots of lianas overhanging petals
smaller climbers spend their lives stranglers grow from seeds lodged in the bush ropes,
epiphytic orchids from an auto in a public park to religious pornography.

Immense shade of waves
torn over hilltops
by the accumulation of moons
building on wells of fire
that the sun has lit with its age
light on light ice on ice
the empire of ended things.

Unprintable in the known world,
the feel and the tact of arriving
and departing, sundered from the atmosphere
of the populations's incredible innocence,
sun-folds wandering, scratching tablets
multi-color with rejected beauties,
scraps of love tossed aside by excellence
and correction, coming boat-side
with tits and teeth, hideously winning.

Found hills and found mountains

found monk-caves full of

diamond angles and kissed tongues

found paths apart as rain pooled

ice cubes on the golf grass galaxy's biggest sun

crushing on the ridge fabric

lonely electric cable lives

train-table through every season

with their misfit flatlines on fire

sent to an unseen ledge,

themselves a peacock's question

flesh root dangling hard from the rock face

The nocturnal territory is opened up
haste on the wing of what moves
a cream-colored stripe like a saucer of lowland
the dark band of the sun's ray from outer space

Trees yawn into shape
fold for the heart of a hidden season
the clouds hold set pieces in place
where the sun is covered over and blades hum
water is lifted to the color of the earth
whose inhabitants are roving ghosts
in a network of riots and laughter

trees are set down and moss blooms
the ghosts send electric shivers
through their many wires
and retire their ponchos of light
their firearms of nudity
and their sourglass songs
to a recreant abyss
full of recycled flowers
where pistil and stamen write on the air
the octopus of found organic thoughts

I am the guardian of green hell
with a wilder and wilder mask
the domain of sad kisses with twin lit ideas
failing at a wall of slime that is over the world

feinting at it with bravery, then with semblance
to gather up the waterfall with wild hands with covered hands
to mail it through the mountain on rails
that killed electric fed wet prisoners of the future

the panic of light ricochets through my chest
tornadoes of iris well up in my canker of a beast
thrills of severed springs hung frozen in volcanic sky
over the forced sanctity of the disintegrated towns

I am the guardian of green hell
glooming around with a stifled lightyear
mask fiercer and fiercer

Molten trees disengage the mind's body
moss climbs and roots taper
tower the side of the universe.

Time is dragged toward multiple centers,
species sear at each other with sulfurous commands,
galaxies and amphibian omnibuses are alit
with ruthlessly educated fuckfest eternity,

the shore offers its broken machine parts
to the laggard with a tin trembling eye--
gather up hearts to the bodiless,
hourglass stew the end of seconds
hissingly punctuated.

The broken seam in the flask
the path diverted by the urging of a fractured bone
sap root and root sap
divinely parted.

Warped bond of ages
throwing off new bodies like a highlight reel
laser eyes on the doorway of mirror
that threatens division's dimensions.

The heated room that makes the body cold
the falling world that makes
the laws uphold their emptiness.

Gloved abandon striking into the tunnel'd void
that knows no core.

Schemes hatched in disintegration
that give birth to a galactic ice babe.

Rain light on the dim shine of the city
flung back the day to an empty spectrum
missing light on dry cracklin
smacking lips, dropping hints
of revivalist limbs in a net's worth
of dreams revisited, with gloves left
there from the previous visit
unlined bodies filling up with steam
ragged in their pursuit of themselves
to hollow out the helicopter heart
and come down with whirring blades intact
ready to walk with the impossible.

Tinged with vaginal aftertaste
the whole hills of America come rolling in.
Yes to the evil brilliance and beauty of this erring and great nation.
Filched by hypocrisy and self-lust it marches in my own bones,
I subvert where it inhabits me, we exchange with one another,
our intermittent energies the color of light all the way through
a mountain tunnel thrumming with long metal anti-laughter,
not just speaking but shaping each other out of the air,
becoming real to one another, frightened by each others naked grime,
the lines of a bare foot on lunar dust are read and re-read by
terrorized by repeated scrutiny of genius
weaponized and warped into false identity by the pressure of insanity,
influenced by fear to dance, to float objectively without examination,
to fucking fly, to be unreservedly in an hour of glass exact
as an hour of steel, filled and re-filled in cusp in crest and in crash
the dog of yesterday and today's cat, the feline inhabitant of
a departed madness.

I love each tinfoil pan, each person.
The arch of St. Louis holds a faint cobweb, today.
Scattershot the movement of humans as the universe breaks.
Warm asphalt hurls the winter out of the sky.
The web is water I sleep under a christmas tree
in the bus station lobby until the sweepers bring me
back to the world with my whole spine singing
and swinging like an elephant's trunk.