Fiery vows

ripping the sky

above the graveyard

from where the moss curves

on the crest of a granite hill.

Desktops jutting

from the highest trees,

where Ink was rolled

in a paper circus

strolling to the line-lit way

to be bathed in salt.

Estranged angels

of lost fates,

lovingly banished

to walk their circuits alone.

Ice dancing in synchronicity

eyes of a falling forest

crying out for parallel stars.

The canyon's rims

dripping with orange fire.

Walls in their tears of glass

are bulbs breaking outward.

Where do I sit

to watch my luxurious death

while the rain fall

of bodies and shark torn ships

follows me up

to the highest void?

How should my implanted sorrows

grant me to suffer?

Only the slip

that undresses time,

the yellow flower.

Crown of the sky's king

giving way to lips that whisper

and the solemn rock parting grass

a dog shaped vapor turning.

I see you

beautifully scorched with effort

bathing in

the universal penis.

Calling to me through

cell blocks and photo frames

smoking in my chair

nestled in my shirt

and blanket.

Calling me up through

disturbed snow

and flickering architecture

scythe's rainbow

in the frozen light

and liquified shadow.

Steel's rubber

carried us once

and earth gushed gases

a razor wire quilt

with garden lips

pushing past the mid-seam

of global fatigue

kissing a clown's pussy.

Days in empty rooms

forms peck at the light

glass bricks gushing glue

across plastic painted beds.

Coiled shade that spits

an articulate wire

the salt sheets of empty lots

waiting for abandoned caravan.

In the place that was your walkway

I cluster with my papers and wait.

Watching the low dim sky

for your hollow feet

and naked entrance.

Scanning the red plateau

richly broken open.

A sulk of revealed bones

shrinking in the mirror

above rushing water.

Cloud pile-ups

on the dented horizon.

Tired bridges of eyes

giving way to a torrent of tongues.

The frozen glitter of space

filling in the saxophone

and cigarette

bottle cap

printed legend

pink undergirding.

The light's dawning, the

seed of the water is precious,

the scent's tyranny,

I see a distorted world.

Watermelon helmet

close to the bulb,

in a sky's error

corrected.  The closed space

beckons.

The glaze wake of a skidding ship

gas prophets in the desert

the shiny walls of kept caves.

Words on a knife

that spins upon an empty table.

Streaks of passing worlds

in narcoleptic light

touching the curved windows.

A slam dance on the shoreline

skeleton's compacted lightning

dresser drawers belching open

in the draw

from a moon sucked skylight.

The snow field's charcoal mouth

and meaty roses

fire beating a phallic drum.

I can remake time in my chrome cabin

watch crystal roar

from its cave kept light

treading on cringing rugs

eerie room cool fires

sliding through a dome of eyes.

The angel with numbers

shaving a hillscape

or performing for ice cream

levitating a calm bucket

cracking a tire filled pond

where are the green needles

and yawning nets of antennas

where are the scrolls of dawning clouds

that rolled me in.

ENCOUNTER

I put you into a lank package

you vomit my head,

I think for you portable

feeler folded in a dank wallet

you hover around my intestinal wings,

I smash your skull with a bronze cock.

The precision of two heels

that pepper the receptacle.

Fact of a bearded eye

circling a slick path

with a lather of words

worn as a chain

your sensitive scum

my knife's wetting

and bullet's waiting room

a creamy punching bag

a friend of the leaked percentage

hacked off limbs

and active head planning

the tits of a Lego goddess

your textbook gazes

I lavishly demolish

nude from the snow

a brick fed glove

upholstered and attacking

a spring blade epilogue

thrift wings and things talking.