Cracked plaster faces
sliding into the silent pine canyon
lugging the smooth bodies
of half-digested rocks
nets of gold cloth and alien signals
chipping at the sound of water
strapped shoulders, minds emptied of all heat
striding into lava
high boots and whalebone masks
plastic adding buttock to buttocks
lined eyes screaming animal possession
the hilarity of tin leaves
knifing the background
curling up on roots
flicking an ancient tongue
slapping against a pale sky
beams and radiator heat
the lightning bolt
in a cuboid helmet
talking backward to himself.

A slab of landscape
reflecting on her chest,
the olive skinned girl
moving among silver cups
tilts my nostrils
with the fingers of her eyes
pulls the blanket from my mind
and lowers me into a bucket
separate from the sea
steaming.

Souls flung forth in little graphic packages
stacked against walls with bright spines
talking pipes and bronze titles
raining down from an empty place
above a beautiful skull.

Rivulets of melted paint
in the palm of a dancer's hand.
Stab wounds leading to the river.
Bricks in a cab of photosynthetic light
rolling down a San Francisco hill.
Park benches for bones and eyes.
Birds tracing our wheat gestures.

Many songs on the same wire
a spear and an egg
in an empty room.

Transparent sheets
on the flame of nudity
a war of resemblances
stirring the deep milk
of real existence,
water distilled into stone
bodies speaking for decades
toast and faces in counter tops
slippery dawn on shadowed glass,
a gnat-cloud of arrowheads
laughing at the mirror.

May the dandy find his cemetery nice and neat.
May the flies not fall.
May her forehead continue to shine
like a bell in the kitchen.
May the strength of the oppressed
alarm the wicked.

Stacked winters on sand and grass
ice in glass sheaths calling to a crooked wire
ceilings and walls in the palm of one hand
murky blades catching long strands
and ceasing to move.

Take your time with me, tigress.
Spin the other men around you
in their rags of discontent.
Let us leave these fools behind
and go out together
to the greed of the sunlit tar
and the replaced lives.

Take me into your web of honey
like a rod on the embankments.
Slip into my furry longing
like an eel in mink.

Tar lit up by vagrant bulbs
torn pavement nipping at the feet of dogs
ripples in the lunar scalp
keys touching the water's pit
the running ground on a furry treadmill
zoom in frame of face exploding the lovely wall
curving bridge supports of fertile concrete
every button in the body's ship interior
tapped and blinking road.

There is a spark of being
that somehow leaps the frame.
That vegetable moment,
hovering on the bridge.

Where the sun eats up nothing,
paths quiet and curbed by wet.
Woods flickering with
the life that's in them,
ferns tracking the sides
of a rock fence.

Thuds in the envelope of sky
bringing fire closer
to the welts of purple darkness.

Time on a belt
chopped up by square hands.

There's a camera in your mouth
canal's cold leaves
branches on tin that cross stain-lit teeth
laundry pots of puppies' eyes
stirred in satin rings
stuck to the embankment's sides.

Grasses mounting metal hills
flowing over sewer throats
years of manufactured intelligence
painted stairways and coffee mug skulls.

Doorways blazing from a cleft
in the explained air.
Insignificant numbers like hot cheese
melting close to the earth.
Shuttered voices reading
the wishes of silence
a machine's vacant sneeze.

A trench in the mouth,
a big singing knife,
ten pillows for the body
twenty pillows for the mind,
a route through consciousness
that leaves trails of tape
sticking script in small burrows
tainted walls of pressed dirt
shades on the painted window
sea in the horseshoe curve
u shape of rock
the tongue of the eyes staring
with a steady flame,
stones descending veins of hands and feet
more flattened earth on the doorstep
streams of grass
on ditch sides in the afternoon
cracked seeds tucked into a granite lip
that tugs the mountain's base over a pool
one bubbling tooth
a sneer filled with plastic bullets
and a pelt of steel.

The dock's landscape of uneven boards
glinting with rain and clapping sea surface
long worms on the jutting end piece
piercing steam
generating tunnels in the soft curves of the body
flickering morphic waves
on the android's slender beach
the last human form
naked holding a fish pole
letting the sun soak his hide
with an imagined hatred
and loving it.

The cancer flames up in my head
I am a singing bush in the rain
on a wide and mossy trunk
speaking and singing alone to the big void
lines of teeth on stone lips multiplying outward
sending up fiber optic lines
the office ceiling of deep caves
torn menus glue rolled to curving walls
bluebells springing from the close corners
short shelves stacking space
into the agony of my ribs
gills in the searching arm that claws
after me all my life
lowering closed
legs finger an opening.

A friend of beaten wood
barefooted on frozen sand
watching huts and brick barriers
light up the universal pillowcase;
parallelogram of melting film
skidding on the horizon
scum gloves and handles soaped
in the chain of their electric smoke
eyebrows tied together with paper tassels
bulbs glowing from a milk bucket
broken bones tied together
with microscopic speech
soft arc of yielding avatars
giving way to sparks.

I encamp in the tear ducts of the beast
snorting fumes from an acre-wide mouth
that chomps the radiant tree tops
spitting twigs on the vast
hand print of the earth's shape
the vital pulp and stringy nectar.

Plateaus of steamrolled salt lick floors
glistening wooden slabs on ice crates
eyes in a linkage of girders.

Airplanes circling in fog
earth's roboticized surface.

Red walls slide
upwards out of the earth
splitting fanatic dancers
tides on the raw grass
reflecting falling parts
to the cold eyes in the trees
and the claws on high stone
a waterfall of hawks
breaking on the multitude
the fire of their tearing beaks
streaking stained air with fresh poison
flowing follicles of soil's heat
eating empty bones.

Complexity stamped into floors,
a dream of well made things,
a dream of female offices
laid out under bug-torched lights,
canvas walls tacking to the heat,
rugs washed in cold bleach
and the beards of sliding corpses,
fishhooks in the eyelids
of gazing fish men
sterile miles paid under
in plastic wrap
lamps and gashed pipes
at the scene of the body's
last disappearance
soul rising in tabletop reflections
trout's face peppered with salt fig
anonymously deep.

Vagrant sounds flow
over the whole earth.
Paths yield worms
and encircle the towers.
Seats on a stack of straw paddles
fountain's faces of leather.
Old friends in their afterlives
pawing through stacks of records.
Names and personalities
piling up on the ceiling
train's nose in the cabin window
puffing steam's rag of speech
shelves of iron and silver
hilltops and lower mountain ledges
all a rented field of dancing girls
branches dripping with stuck fog
deep in the lane of a twitching video
smirking through cracked ice
backfiring over the steamrolled land
hands on the antenna's many wheels.

Specks of space
and half lit back rooms
popping rings from velvet turf
and fog peeled sky
past the linked chains
the engine sitting still
under a skeleton
I switch the growth light on
under a veiled lip of cliff
the city is a glass model
with a passing flame
dancing hyenas on beloved brick
making the sea waves sit down
and the bobbing furniture
listen.

FURTHER

From the tin foil and blue
cut up cape in the trash can
to a man walking miles of empty parking lots
in his dreams while his body flies on a couch,
forest walls glowing
on a lake the sky pounded,
spurring eyes and bird patterns
I spar with the goddess
strapped to the stairway
where the houseplants hang their heads
and moss inhabits strange
canvas-painted corners.

Broken entries leaking radioactive alphabets into the roots.
Jars of human form turned into leafy puzzles.
New palaces of brick with vacant insides.
Painted alleyways that eat sliding doors.
Strips of paved land
fracturing and fading into rock.
Hairs of a beastly earth
cutting space like a tomahawk.
The handles of transport vehicles
clicking like rodent bones
in a bag of rice.
Headless crucifixes with wire and honking cylinders
eating up the spirits of the air.
A solitary wheel that crunches its own eyes.

Up in the attic with my dead brothers and fallen saints
fingertips and media freezing
idols of carved lime bleeding neon threads
paths of clay slipping through rivers of petroleum
android ropes coating metal with ancient dust
as they move through libraries of shining coal
pulling planet lava

cracked smiles on granite discs
limbs glued to settled milk
on the desktops of erupted shadows
trains on shelves in a smashed museum
columns of stained salt
shedding webs of adhesive

electrical outlets in wrists,
the cervix, a brittle stalk of neck
stabbing at miles of ceiling with headless energy
a vacant spine tagged with breaking numbers
rows of bright lights buried in tar and slime.