Black as the sun,
black as the stallion's coal,
black as the blood
in my penile veins,
my only beauty.

I see the meaning
I cannot describe
descending to me
from intelligent eyes
filling my bone caged world
with breathable water.

Delicious woman,
fountain of oiled figs
upon my starving cortex,
lift me from the earth,
make me a cipher
unto your womb,
take me through
the yield of newness
as I surrender my fledgling seed
to your inimitable dark
and hotly yearning light.

BURN

I see you cockeyed
as a wounded rooster,
beating your crested head
upon an empty drum.

Hens to the nuclear sunrise
have abandoned you, your yard
with its hard clawed circles
is vine crawled and disintegrating
into the wider outskirts.

With your pea brain brilliance
you seek meaning in printed seeds,
the papers of officialdom
scattered from a broken office
to unyielding dirt.

Your beak is where you breathe.
The scent glands of forest skunks
and glamorous foxes
have driven you wild with error.

Flapping hard to become a stump
you crowd surf the hands
of inarticulate tongues.

To your cumulative blaze
I discard the one feather
of yours I kept,
watch how easily it fades
into the disarray you cared for
and your gone path paved.

Great icy stars of New Hampshire.
Pale nimbus edging out of the wreck.
Silk wrenched from tame flowers.
Rust swinging through
appointed and unappointed times.

Vacancies that bloom
after the blade's passsing
wire paths and tangled troughs
a well's cap of softly speaking moss.

Born in an electric chair
with an eloquent grin.
All the rapture in the rib cage
discharging an infertile script.

The prison bars of other people
and their tunic arms
stuck notes for invasive bread
a bullet riddled violin
the only sash I have left
straying to a poison stream.

Bones from within the flesh
mouth behind mouth
dead pages giving birth
to a wooden map
the sparking brain and skull
still vigilant within the ice fog
a sling shot leather egg
brown tooth kaleidoscope
a prophylactic leer.

Looks like a moth
got painted into this one.
Obelisks lined up
around the block.
The leaning chairs
of willing bodies
becoming the spiritual life
manifest in ferns.

Torn stones that speak
to a low wind.
Shrine that hugs the earth
past a nest of bark
the horizon's chain
of breasts and wombs
ticking solemn fruit's perpetuum
lacquered fist of dust.

Welcome to the temple of
refined modern wisdom, sugar.
Your fart noise will be analyzed
racially.  Primal chords do play in you.
Planned thoughts shall enter you
with methodical glee.

Replication has been postponed
for community serving time.
Partners will understand
the infinite
moderately.

As we learn to access the community
for napkins of meaning, cinematic terror
is unfortunately aimed carefully
at uncinematic neighbors--merely
a warning signal for
skin tone deniers, no need
for alarm, sugar.

The shrink wrap chip cell editorial
will keep you company on
your way out.  Repeat without
effort the following signal.

I'm being devoured on my own terms.
I'm being devoured on my own terms.
I'm being devoured on my own terms.
I'm being devoured on my own terms.

Ship on a lid of taffy
leaning across string walls

the wind twangs of cushion doors
mercury dashed against a tree trunk
forming ringlet alphabets

on the dawning air.

Slammed into a red rubber dream
by a turning cycle
beards crawling up my reaching body
a curved horizon
dipping like a waterfall
to the swooping eye.

Worm time
around the circuits of steel
oils thick in mud
coming up for bloody stalks
and the smiles from a blowtorch.

Yards raging with blossoms
for the overhang sky
arms and their dozens
fangs of the rolling heat
clustering metallic leaves.

Bone remnant of unknown kin
looking over a counted dust cloud
lonely channel that ran
throughout the planned hours
that are gone
in a ring of departure.

The mantle piece
of a foaming body
sprouting mounted antlers
the ineffectual gnawing
of coal teeth.

Ice pointing through bitter rivulets
the broken veins of sorrow
beneath a clear window
that looks out, flipping
darkened pages.

Mirrors wincing
through the currents
painted elbow twigs.

Things become disfigured
past your imagining.

The supple white light
drips from death
and is imagined in corners.

Steps crushing through a ramp
cranes and their webs and levers
tumbling grit in beams
of lunar architecture.

Jolted bones and sacrificial meat
laughing to the last road
the ripped cell's path.

When the shore
is slapped aside by the wave
and the storehouses in their own
puddles of neon
continue glinting with the dust
of airplane engine blades
and drifting chapters
of explained vapor,

toe headed monsters fleeing
by tar with tar wheels,
stuck in slack chains of cement,
and the buried blues
comes up raging
and will not be buried again,

the sound of a trumpet coined
in an articulate whirlpool
is pockets dug for meaning
and the teeth burner
cold stakes and banners wild

a glue tapped crucifix of ash.

Bright robin at rest
against the ship torn sky
a web of blipping tiles
singing under the vapor's rig
and conspiracy of lights
the dust that cannot be destroyed
engine sighing in water
blossom's yield of letters
dock's mated corpses
resurrected in tickets of clay
the gulp and silken breeze
seed trace to a rotating door
licked bowl for the catching jar
rock bed where the pillow's gone
to a feather pile.

Stature of days without a habitat
stored in transit
through ancient stars
and the memories of stars
funneling out.

Crossed by the eel's shadow
who surveys the uppermost clouds.

Time in its little circuit
kept and ending in each
as they pass into the great night
making it dissipate
with light's mouth.

A dangling chain of lips
caressing the trash can.

Capes of old past selves
flagging past the present beam
doors thumping on compacted springs
the shine of all things in motion

tracks on the snow white snow
the perks of time
flaring like kindling
emblems of travel
fading into wheat
and oak distances
a pinwheel at the bottom of
a brimming barrel

casting shards of bone.

Helicopter through
the weeping tendrils
a tongue of clouded steel
pushing soil congealed
by a volcanic blade.

Hushed and shadowed windows
a stick of rib cages
centuries long and gleaming
tool shed's crown of thorns.

Taps on the mercury lake
of streams that cannot undo it
rustle of wings on leaves
bark thistle in air
a thick sigh of relenting.

Long drives in the aftermath
savoring rolled parchments
among the rinds and ash
pin cushions and yeasty masks
a dance in cemetery moss
rink of piano wire
a telecaster husband
flaming meat.

Lines on a scratched highway
oils of a forgotten voyage
template's distracted music
chalking around the ports
in ironed ground
webs breaking in a far corridor

sheen rippling over
the streaking desert
barbed wire sunrises
on all sides.

Hot moon
caught like an egg
in the flask of days

distributing arms of light
fugue dark and spotted corners
licking a top disc

skidding into the down turn
of a canyon geode.

Twin moon following the core
neither west nor east
a crescent wave
and torn rope's braid of steel

a kept capsule's full
breaking into flower.

A branch of embers
vibrating on the helm,
two urgent sources
tracking each other's spark,

volatile fronds of her mercy,
a river dragging clouds
of radiant sand,
the glint of a rock wall
invaded by shattered mirrors

race tracks of yielding
and dispersing vapor
diamond of a black grave
a field of echoes
tossing parted straw.

A blimp rolling through the air
aware and tumbling
on wet clouds
and supernatural obstacles

folds and crumbling clay
rip cords searching the storm
a tree of sleeping leaves.

Courtyards rippling reflected light
bulging moss carpeted tombs.

Pines tall from years of mercy
between the graves
and yarns of unraveling branches
a slim road.

Submerged and flying
with the cocoon of ages
collapsing in filtered streams
all around me,

the swinging blades befriended
from chains of light,
the crooked burden lifting
from the purse of scarred
fingers.

The labyrinth has city wide walls
thick mineral deposit eyeglasses
kiosks stuffing skin with meat
a silver shine on dusk
perfection's asymmetric clouds
a seat on the clear and long and low
horizon of the earth's chamber surface
jetting island plumes.

Wings of curved fertility
circling an open grave.

Clouds in the gold framed corners
holding back the flood of sun.

A chair of clay retouched
blades carved on rustling foil.

Long hallways
I see from my windows
leading to the brink
or the stuffed dragon
lids of polished wood
and burnished handle's cream
crying monster.

Whom have I slathered
with my living blood
cast aside from me?

Such long bridges leading back
to the mud's lightning flag
the yawned open aisles of waiting
with celebrant or reclining arms

the sliding plateaus
bowled-out taverns of nowhere

acres of fur torn hearts
mysterious deaths and dyings
that are never over

all my habitats gleaming
from an ice shod in clay
and a grim bud's tower

fortresses in lamented decline
vines reaching trails
of well fertilized terror

the table's eye and dining room
sunlit bare.