The wet deck
sighs and casts us off.

Mittens and foam blocks
are floating on a miles deep sea.

Surf is eating
but bodies are eating too
into the arc light that calls them.

Severing dark that calls me
when will you give me my burden of fruit
to carry through the scaly passageway
between worlds?  Only in the perfect
universal blood, this jagged peace
drifting through compact traffic
that is not known, can be

the solitary breakers,
the ice trickle
and the galaxy wide rag
sailing into no number

vague Earth shaking on its shopping bag.

Tapping the waffle cake
concrete wall,
pins dancing on wet sandy bones,
the curb of a fenced in hill,
dawn speaking through
our pillowed windowsills,

nobody talking in the vast halls
strung with unseen lights,

scentless cubicles draping
a scaffold,
a ripped paper and its
dated ooze,

form flagged with a sagging matrix

deep in a dim pantry

one loaf of bread in a bag
talking.

Sitting on a stump
where the fields cross
with a dying camera
touching the grey light's
naked hands.

Unslung from a sunken
guitar hill
tagging footprints with a tinted laser
paint matador screwing a clay box
eggs running mailbox tent poles

the cherub's sharp
ancient claws.

Moon and magnetic tomb
cobweb across the new minted mouth
pouring blue from a cleft
moss padded wall

tunnels overhead hissing
piston clouds.

Not to want
or to have more
but be simply floating
love of coals and soft flames
encamped toward abysses
with the shine of battered velvet
coming out of a rock broken
grass quilt
and a peppered ooze
sweet copper hindquarters parked
on a ramp of sand
suited to the cliff's caught rags

at what hour
through what hotly vacant
watching curve
should I drink the sugar
of your eternal move

I am older than my father
(the ferns cried on the rocks)

I see our waste changing
the shape of things
making my most liquid bones
flicker inside the form I have found

blinking at a green mound
silver pole surrendering a flag

some scribbled map lines
for the mute damage,

ensconced within a melted law,
tugging the tides to bright canals

a thick worm enjoying the mirror

the fine ash of impacted dawn

a cooled fountain, the nest's linked arms

startled eyes for a reborn beard

the laughter going down in suds
and a swirl of gas.

Like a god coming out of the earth,
a split fortune, dogged upon
the grass-growing bones,
flowering from a body of skulls,
torn between the pierced aristocrats
and the floating beaten,
picked up like a sod,
chucked against the roving van,
rippling across the many colored sky,
teething his way toward
she who is a crushing elevator
and a dew-struck frond and a crone,
vines ripped from his torso
that are laid into her questioning hands,
a unit of sorrow,
the cotton along a singing blade,
clay surface's melted embroidery
a tire shadow's ring of pants
and her forgotten shirts
as they ascend with the sun lit fog.

I am a flair ice dagger
but my bones are the blues.

My teacup and my spoon
each have a granite wrinkle.

Morphed by a floating sound
and a playful anchor,

I only flex the curve of a wave
a cream's lick of dim sorrows.

Flung by the tongue of a female
broken grin of a grim fetcher

twilight here I come
with my bucket and scissor grime

touching the walls
of a palace tree house

vein pulled from the frown
that held him down

sitting stacked with vines and vapors
or dispensing the golden hand.

Stuck to that Greg Devlin
fuse tapping magic
of a gone New Hampshire

like the fossilized slime of ages
with human glue
to this weary joy and elegant
assortment of rags

ten thousand porches high
streaming melodica.

Layer cakes of neon lights
my love at a gas pump
the fenders of passing galaxies
and their scanning ships
a spray of divorced stars

I see the world spread out deeply
while I am shining some office window
the me beneath me
and the me in gloves
watching it rush to an edge
and then come rushing back

a rotary of tar decks and high bulbs
enwraps my shadow and my departure
a sluice of cutting prows
and brown bag sluggers
precedes me and drowns

I am here with my cudgel of ink
amaze me

Time wraps around the skull
and its antipathies.
Plumes of every favorite color
washing away the ash
that follows the fire of blindness,
settling on stumps and melted gristle
disturbed by clitoral beginning shoots,
nudges of a fresh reality
from under the face of earth.

Water in a tube of force
making its voice known
to a dirtless labyrinth
space with its unseen neighborhoods
tossed and wheeling around
the slick gear of earphones
halting the count
releasing the grimy orchestra.

A pink scar
floating on jars of silk
from a rumored arm
that melts the corners into seams
and the seams into meaning.

And this will be your photo of God
in the last shadow
before the light devours everything.

Faint cliff tops leading out
over the ragged expanse that speaks
severed tongues licking active wires
bramble cloaked in billowing fog
beneath a stone seat's petulant dildo.

In the grid's rack of fiery apartments
strutting figures contemplate reductive triangles
planning the ladder's teasing descent
to the bouncing cartoon cakes
on a rickety pavement.

In a dim lit room
of the upside down pinnacle
where we meet in waves
this gleaming sore
surrounded by arrow pierced bulbs
we will use a giddy rush of death
to pretend we've always known each other
and that this is the obliterating signal
of a new existence
free of the indebted body
and its rag car
deepening crater earth.

A porch of stone
with a quiet egg
pig wrapped in a robe
of human hair

the quiet of a fractured garage
still standing on stilts
glued to wishbones
an impossible night.

Rolling chair indenting
a tarp of meat
the bug's heart
of a raging microphone
slabs talking to a cinnamon coal
from peak to swollen peak
the islands of wires that are eating

flicker of a cemetery's lichen flank
aloft on the dumpster dawn.

Cliff lines and declining pillars
like the fingers of a glove
the tags of spent garments
fluttering around a hill's foot
plateaus of half-radiant tar
the beds of ember-laden creatures
saluting Venus through the night sky
the fingernail glaze
of scattered windshields

mufflers caved in
with rusty hand prints
covered signals palpitating mold
the crescent street
and hissing path
under a plaid dome
amphitheater tapped by ants
pig wraps and the ramp
dust cranked away
by the scrape of a fighting nude
faint gridlock melting tech
to oiled penetration
a high wall's sheen of penitent bottles
rags like roses in the crate light.

I see a runway gleaming
dove wings from nowhere
a silk hammer
bucking the golden fringe
steamroller shining over a clay knoll.

Chain's rust coloring a hill's outline
the bulb of the sun
cracked anew
in a glory of no ashes
rings of only distant vapor
the ripped stash
of cotton's meaning
a laser sword
the purple sash descended
forest deep and pinkie wide
the funk of love's persistence
in a loving groove.

In white curvature
a string of purple hearts
rattling like tin beads.

Shards of the shoreline
glinting like fins
and sharpened blades
horizon wincing at the cracked lens
where light flees upward
in buckets.

Turf of the clenched blood poles
giving way to eternal spirit.
And the sky where this is possible
crashing without error
passing beyond what is still
a shape out of season
grinding to order spontaneity
from the recreation schedule
in tones that melt the set
and the stem chains
swirl's radiant center
casting off communicated rings.

A sculpted ledge
bright milk pool
seats of painted ice
arranged in crescent gleam
a beam's raft of written sand
the tripod stand
of an ember tapped out
light from an embedded grid
outlines gashing far off skies
the rag song of flowing mud
dark dance landing
on a shawl of blades
coins dropping into the rift
cold soup of rattling bones.

A patio lit up on the edge
high class tea pots
and tipping kettles
steam bags emitting the latest
lavender flavor
and the flown words parched
like cartoon pillars leaning

fog's tongue licking
the revealed cave mouth
and trembling vessel
a lake of lips shaking
leather seated chairs.

Torso gleaming with waffle prints
some femme crucified to nonsense
chameleon across the shine
of an electrified fence
your tool laughing is a smile
engine peaking from a rift
grates blinking atop
buffalo brown smoke
a shade of gel
fisted mercury looking for more ink
strapped on to my underworld eye

filling up with tags and seizures
alien's chemical light
and received cushions
bulb reaming above me
in a cliff's rotating sash
paint claw's infertile powder
a chalk line arrow
marked on a mezzanine rail

to my depths gave birth and stayed
kerchief led with a desperate cargo
the gates of madness in a pillow case
two gazes leaking stunned guns
one raging dance later
smoke's ash at the alphabetic table
looking for a speech to capture
the amp's hair shirt
secreting blossoms
arrayed by blade
in molds of fruitful lacquer
silk's pucker for a tarnished frame
gold's trash of silver
the glue of a skeleton leaf
gone to the coined realm
and a fence climbing hilltop's ether

forks that oceans led and melted
tune's waiting bath mat
down to a reef's crater
vast eyelid's greenish seam
taut rim's expectant Venusian wing
belt's spider linked chair of wheels
the singing of stacked boxes.

There I am struck pale with red,
soaring through half the night,
nesting in whatever has been smashed,
mending my usual stalagmite,
smearing my face into the brick
that floats above my hideaway,
trying to find the eye
of your whirlwind,
made plastic by the rain
the dandelion rebellion.

Kicked around the labyrinth
recording shrieks of painted meat
faint protests for departed souls
tacked up in cardboard and flickering flour
a root-bled calendar's refrigerator door
the carved spread of leaves.

I can still see our bright streaks
firing over corn rowed earth
and runes upon dark soil
skittering with sparks
no longer in the orbit
rowing a steady grave.

Fogging and wiping squares
in the limitless tug of space
watching ice planets
and forming ooze
cycle still reaching
home and water
the light's entrance
twinkling on a stone morning's
two sets of skate blades
by a river pool

the dawn resurgent with pines
and berry bush framed clearings
a thin track's divine match sticks
chalk lake caught

an outlook fizzling down
vivid enough moss
root fiber
ten tons of mint leaf.