A sky-island of cans and beets
gauze-packed carrots and foam crates
shoe-loops dangling monkey heads
and frog bodies

silk treadmills tugging sucked-out bones
salty wigs on the ship's wheel
dragging dentures of clay
across the seams of waxed wood

skulls of tin printed with clouds
lipstick nostrils staring gears
of a blade's circle
turning dusty sparks
to a planetary core.

Rain dagger and silent drift
napkin hearts shrinking plastic balls
into the eyes,
where they hum with broken air,
dangling spider threads
across a shielded forehead.

Pursed mouths printed on a clay wall,
fizzing arms with hollow veins,
a well of crayon saints
crawling ropes of steel
into a grey sun.

Whirlpools of green food dye
behind the ceiling fans,
clicking tongues in an empty room,
the rubber violins of a tied-up body
grinding grain into oxygen.

Pinned up by the foreskin,
clawing with crocodile paws,
bright face on the boundary,
puckered tools drooling severed signs,
fenced-in whirlwinds spurting jagged glass,
dirt as muscles growing vacant spasms,
paper bodies shredding antique walls,
tumbleweeds flinging razor'd teeth,
thorn-paths climbing painted tires,
leafy missiles combing through the air,
apartment tunnels zooming sewage meat,
flowers dipped in the light of clay sprouting pox,
eyes in piles riding rusty plows,
fevered skins in a flagpole's rind,
a curlicue of bronze drinking straws
from a fermented grave,
one knuckle-split shrinking time.

Slabs of cut earth
pyramid piled on a concave head
blanketed with fallen sun discs and dust
needles of pine and pomegranate seed
wood stacked on a chimney's mouth
torn money on the tongue's doorstep
space-ripples pouring down
the flanks of the trees
hot eyes in a broken thatch of thorns
slate shoes and a dented helmet
strapped together by wheeling brine
streaming roads dipping skies in black
the knife rides
a little trickle under.

A map around the body,
broken lines drinking light,
bars across the eyes
that pucker pretzel'd cubes,
drifts of powdered bones
swirling cursive feet,
sky chains and moon chains
and a funnel that speaks,
collarbones tied in pasty loops
around the lava neck,
cloth boxes dipping threads
in liquid hands,
arms of rubber miles
racing office dusk,
tape loops caught
on the throat's egg thorn,
a nibbling punk
in a coat of leaves,
with a fishnet windshield
and the warmth of a burning czar.

Pounding dusk and grassy soil
point to the god of the hills
slapping the roots of a small tree
with his belt, laughing at his own efforts,
the owl of refined exertion on his shoulders,
ready to hang blossoms on a thistling remainder,
to point up the sky in search of fiery and far
contortions clasping fateless fate,
driving furrows through the flank
of the mountain's stem
for a one-way climb,
a peak's pool of glue,
a dirty pocket,
lips and ephemeral foundation.

Embroidered walks tugging at radiant sights,
wood metal monuments teeming grass files,
leaves with penny-sized holes drifting riot's wind,
thumb-harps twanging the rings around searching fingers,
bags of piano strings perpetually landing on the stairtop,
and a weary hand slapped aside by a younger hand,
and the prolapsed tunnels linking continents with train-cities,
blinking out the stars scouring sockets to get them back clean,
standing in the light shower of skidded and land-strapped cars

with a face of the sight tongue,
retinas shot with the wine of past skies
and fainting beauties on organized rubble,
lilac stems in the ripped septum,
countenance primed by engine sauce
chutes of bubble chains
still tracing ocean courses
without electric books and rooted windows
a digital eel with cold plier nostrils
mailing his address to the gun-sighted sun
with a field stacked of animal ladies
and opioid hands released from trouble
a trunk of ladles and symponuity of persimmon,
a sheaf of bled-on spice,
a fractured seeing-stone,
sunglasses on rye toast
with a nodding scepter.

Spires of trash piles
shedding sacred paper
bars of glue in eternal teeth
macaroni of moving eyes
and rushing empty channels
tall neon tunnels
that sprinkle blue dust
mazes of shoelace
pulling fragrant hinges
the stripes of fallen beasts
a zig zag cacophony of wraps
ripped by boomerang gravity
stacks of pumped and flattened colors
lens dripping crushed tissue and flaming silk
craters cradling milk and fur hats
earth layers sag and pop
to blossom poison warts
a coat hanger pen
scribbling thigh-strong engines.

Prongs of daylight give to fists of furry semen
backseat glass shards pricking the radio
bags of water eat
twilight suckerfish come up
smacking against the running board
like a cluster of dried heads
and tongue onions
large trees parched in the net of sun
star fields coming over
in a sheeted glaze.

PORN

Animal Phyla
having transparent material by eight men,
a keen strewer of roses
softly extended

Foundation lyrics crumbled
in a pierced hallway
numerals painted over by a whirling sash
the dreamer forgetful of eyes
who would be their wanderer
ice cracking in his back brain
nuzzled by a table
and admitting a drowsy light;
inheritance accepted by degrees
and vomited with great regret

hair's bullet-cut,
curbs flickering freshly cut stone.

Empires of linoleum
highways of painted grass
steaming mouths of truck-backs
spinning chairs bumping cracked transparent walls
stacked burners smoking teeth and elbows
floors rising through a sanctuary of mud
my fellow servants and I carbonated
with eye-straws and teeth-straws and ear-cuffs
walking the cork of the walls,
the swimming floors,
the cracked and sightseeing
ceiling tiles.

And a budding tower of stoves
ramming televised oxygen
into sentient cement,
bagging corners
to take the whole, swishing
through a maze of horse tails
and fire-laden swamps
holding a bronzed receipt,
a miniature who bites tendons,
a chief who steals laughter from crones
in these porcelain halls.

A scene impaled on a thin arm
brown hills with blue and white backing
the spines and ribs of paths
wires ridden high with trembling seats
and slings flung from high trees
the skidding wheels of thoughtless foot pedals
stones turned by a squirrel skull
the fallen rot diagonal
and clouds thick as paint from the mouth
boat wide leaves fallen on a dim lake
chain link singing around my hidden form
notes' timber alive in my tin blood
the hardening of our shared earth
in me like eyes,
the brazen courtship of a killing shroud
scattered with open plastics
a boxed-up wound
simmering saints in jello.

Octagon eyes
sucking an interlaced fern mask
the high boroughs maimed
and the country sets reeling,
broken porches see-sawing
cocktails into the mouths
of my unknowing antagonists,
bright clouds of thought-fuck
around his and his and his aching head,
and too much of him in the dish department
smashing a clean car battery
into a dirty mirror,
and much more of him
in the corner suds
ducking his own whip
and laughing.

An empty carton on couches
headcase laced with rubbing
alcohol and kaleidoscopic laundry
the spinning wheel of paint
sending droplet organs
through a phantom

tiger bodies in the pulsing eyebrows
thirsty background of bloodshot veined
sleepless religiosity
beams with forked hands
pushing paper towel ceilings
menus of whipped flesh
bright looks from a winking backside
the fruition of regurgitated children
stabbing barbecue sticks
through a poison frog belly
a vacant sign dripping alphabet soup
and the popped sight
of a dumpster rainbow

the oily reflection walks,
puts on gloves
and is a machine healer.

The big godlike head has
nine wigs and three gears
napkin boxes in floating rows
long cords dragging like dismembered snakes
shining discs on legs
spike dented beaches of aluminum
the knots of mid-spine tassels
smeared open by burning light and lotion's fabric
plows descending in oil
from interlocking mountains
feet un-suctioned from drinking fountain rivers
the blade of clean eyes
like a vaccine stain.

Peeled down to the raw slime of man
with the egg's teeth on me,
with bridges open to me
long trees helicoptered by heartbeats
tuned to a toasted timer
with long hair wires
with cinnamon baptized in sesame oil,
sun's behind a pan stuck to the window
gardens are teeming basil and asparagus arms,
dull wood shrunken is shined wood,
vines in the blood are working ceilings,
levels of cracked trash concrete light
working dens behind them.

The hum goes out over a wide frozen lake
gathering stray and stripped wings
in a net patched with pins
and coiled hair
bottles cooling in the thin patch
fallen on stone edges
ice on glass and sky on skull
the cracking container of a thousand frames
rough doorways of wooden fur
scrubbed and sanded by vertabrae
in rope fingers and racing hands
hillsides sliding through open ribs
the mouth a smashed mailbox
where seeds and twilight alphabets
go shivering

like beads of unseen fire
driving this brick continent
into the sky's graph
with a gear shifting diamond stalactite
the glass eye broken under lid,
gliding bulbs and wet shards.

Rails on the branch read by hands
knob slipping from trunk
with green fang's
bud of forked tongue
the sky's brown tarp
pulled over bright blue knives
dripping polished claws
silt lit by mica fingers
belts of depressurized leather
hinges of mud
out to the tip of outlook
where the roads of language
round out their circuits
the center of a spoken leaf
sweating razors and glue cylinders
wrapped-up maggots in layered tape
little crests of bark
stuck like a stopped wave
sets of parked food
weeping carbonated streams.

Suds run on the dome's long curve
flakes melting angles in bristle mouths
trains are segmented stems
uprooted and bouquet'd leaking oil
into the flute of water
roots violating cement frosting
between the bricks of name
the landscape of analytic skin
running to a spear tip's pen
jabbing layers of cut-out earth
peeling dirt from empty basements
sod from stringed mouths
clump grass from
a button pressed eye.

Piano hands clamped to a fridge
dancer's legs on a spit
plate's rim gilded with ascending stripes
highways on bridges of pasta
shifting like eels in bloody transit
chopped-off crops holding stacked garages
the limbs of untangling things
carving faces from deep glass.

A storm that went building mansions
has returned in snow.
Spiral blades coughing heat
in black smoke.
Branches spreading through
the second floor.
Leather chairs high beaming graphs
the creases and seams
of bodies migrating
through petroleum waves.
High ornaments nailed up
to a bone cast in bricks
of frosted meat
by aging powerlines
the socket of all-seeing cartilege
sparkling with transparent blood.


Desks with high headboards
sprayed with molasses of tongue dust
nostril frost heaves
wincing with received arrows.
Bunk beds pouring like ghostly dominoes
from soundless windows.
Bleached pillowcases
sending a facsimile breath
to the roof of a shovel's mouth.

The high triangular office
caressed by lights,
inks of red blue and black
running in miles of transparent wires
to a hand's grip of jackhammer quills,
nine tails of broken bulbs,
a hillside collecting boots and celery stubs,
voices booming in caverns of mud,
acres of steam-rolled gloves,
the melted print of a day's work
spent carving molecules.

Long rings of disintegrated paper
going oval and figure eight
feet of oil and brow of encrusted stone
nucleic acid linked to a farmer's torch
the kernel's purple stirring under a yellow cap
pinched white, the drip's lid of vibratory particles
kissing the butts of sunken blades.

Cracked ridges
on the edge of the town's mouth
doors in snow
unfolding painted arrows
descending heels in canned space
microwave webs on a frying light
long mop trails painted water on marble glaze,
a whirlpool of dusted-off sparks,
strings and granules
filed in the seams of a spinning bucket
foam ceiling's electric drain
long crop rows of knee-high tables
paths whipping to smear windows
hot hoof-stains to train glass
the library's railroad
blinking by the mice of hands.

Slashing of town names town places
bashing a brick hole through
wipers on the dragonfly
scheming tender eyeing looking
with cultivated trashiness
at the trash gatherers.

Hearing the tank splash
under the stereo
the whipping of detached antennas.

The fronds erasing tribal words
generic words and words of forged humanity
tar paint trailing off into grass
religious words quarters of dollars
that are dead.

Slashing town names town places
seeing the outskirts through a fence
of goggled steel.

And breaking down into tears
at the designated area,
small shore of an eggy pond.

Nests dropping from their undergrowth
like buzzing eels.

Headphones catching the rasp
of the forest's woods
from an interstate wire.

Fingers of water from spilled flowers
on the ancient desk.

Trees rolling whole
as spokes in wheels,
coffee in the goblin's throat,
the dream of being the one
unclouded visionary, rescuer of all
worthy worlds, a mopper,
watcher of gears
hidden to task after task
pisser of motion-lit backwoods
caught rolling the red dice
into a wind tunnel
bellowing steel and wood
into tubing and pipes and wire.

Fourteen voices from
a visage ten decades wide.
Candles on the birdbath skull,
the rounded shoulder of a peacock hatchet
a flying heel,
a string of winged daggers,
masks of wool and dumb weather
whip-poor-will graces in the hummingbird shelves
holes in the prized paper
shitting its old thoughts
hymns to the rattled heart a hundred forty years
of wood and tablature
restored to grass,
the mountains leering.

We dreamed of runaways in emperor positions
slashing funds of juice
hand-patterns wielding glow sticks in empty air,
the hallowed mouths quacking.

Early hours with money and bright intoxication
in the evening dew
hunting lost equipment in the cone rain of fertile woods
clouds attached to phone towers like a flapping flag
a rainbow strangeness over the meat-stunned harbor
nets under glass of sucked-out
tunnels of water
eating an aphid smile.

Particle windows
flickering over a high bulb tower
carpet paths humming through deep-cut gardens
tracking lights around eyes in the land
brambles cleared from the silky flank,
the downy cartridge of smoke,
the dull wet capacity of the enemy.

Shingles raining on berries
jangling the frost on dark green leaves
pounding blue-veined fists
while the red sky quakes.

Black doves and banana peels
on the altar of a park fountain
an octopus man thumbing pennies
sheer and gambling spine-blades with trays
the pitter pat of rain attracted
sideways with a magnet iron.

Slammed up against the gelatin of the crowd
leaking anima
agony of the bent head
suffering solitude
in a row of prepared rivers.

Slain doorsmen gleaming
in a slurry film
on long marble
entrance room floors
before me
clutching a bell,
a dog's tail,
a whimper.

Moved into the sovereign area
of not giving a fuck.

Flinging power knee pads
bitch splittails on my porcelain finger
giving their intestinal tracts up to sperm.

And the sacred avenue lit
behind it all,
merrily winking and being
parked, arms of science
by music, tabletop
made bare for performance layers
the tape run out
in a crop scythed by
torn dresses.

Stamped in silver rain
where the brown edges are hanging on,
sidewalks longer than roads
towering above the trees.

Hulks of brick and wounded wood
glass entrances up against pink flesh.

Secretaries of photosynthetic shade
stuffing their mouths with big leaves
of inky daylight.

Old ships and bridges in dried-out suds
the pumping hearts of mouths in cliff-side plaques
tormented by water.

Fronds tracing the window
crack their roots.
Garden beds simmer and
come up like blocks.
Steaming walls of soil
blinking screens.
Backyards on a grid of sticks
rising like a cage from the earth.
Strips of cloudy vapor
sculpting frozen hands.
Yellow wax on the wounds
of a far-seeing face.

Potted lives
crawling their boundaries
like space-fed vines.
Sunglasses swallowing paint
and pouring concrete.
Stems in the orifice of the earth
making the sun wink
on a long-handled spoon.
Boiling skins and guts
writing cursive
on a leaning wall.

Apartment train cars
windows crammed with profiles and limbs
slinky necks and rattling knees
tracks pouring through town after town
never settling a city
in the diamond winking tar

flying linked through banks of snow
swatted by flying planet hands
mists of soaked sunlight and arching bones
long wooden shine on the surging floor
pink engines under the sink with green gloves
and the tangled hoses of transcended bodies

rent paid with blades and bullets
glued together in a looming island
floating overhead with its shadow tracking
desert rails and the milk of pricked cactuses
the script of trembling vinyl arms
apartment train cars

Charred banks of being,
ribs in the soil springing keys
harps with blueberry strings
long paths winking with holes and water
stalk shooting out of the ground
with green and pink buds
offering spikes of violent yellow flowers
to hands that are many and mine,
from swerves in air like water
and tender hooks snaking on flying wheels,
countenances in rock and barking miles
stuck to the life of wood and shingled tar
running electric wires to a sweet snatch
to be buried in sparks
and waffle mattresses,
wire hair.

Fried nocturnes into the deep night I don't find her
clothes flung on barbed wire to climb naked I don't find her
I push baths I move showered brushes
and bins of literate dust I'm getting tired of looking for her

moon syrup and salt flakes of banished skin
tarnished heels that map tables with scant wheat
spread legs and spread time and spread grin
the face of which is covering the earth in her reflections
where I am hiding in a leaf's tic
in a storm fallen through the basin of a park fountain
a bomb rusting through the walls of this antique cherry

plowing rings of sand the ripples of a thoughtful face
to a blade fresh from sharpening wheels
tapped like a tomb, like a mailbox
covering time for the wrong organ
circling a driveway with non-driveway tires
and pondering crushed soil with a hand of leather
on all the transparencies rolled down
blood dimming and dawning to be interred

through the spiral heart and the nexus gateway
where in our many we are one and not-one
sphincter and pressing orb
fluid brains and basking bodies
torn from the arc, become the arc
fledgling lips waxed in historical countenance
and rattled by the lack of it
bitches need like water.

Meat planks set up
in a neat array.
Beaming eyes
that have no focus.
Horizons vast
as these little hands.
Seaward looks
that return to shore
with a different squint.
Weeds over the eyes
of their captives.
Metal and wood
spanking glass.
Showers of sparks
that never land.
Hallways with infinite
supply of more hallways.
Slithering cords hugging
cropped mountain sides
and sifting rain.
Spines crushed through faces
by bulletproof canoes.
Tray after tray with feelings
by compartment served,
and no face responsive
and no body calling
over these vacant tables
where the breezes and lights
die so beautifully down,
and the vats of humming water
don't sign my name.