A tapped maple

is singing in the Walpole woods

crown of snails and empurpled shadow

crouching around her pine

needle cradled walk

where I wait in my sheets of gauze

to be stitched and remembered.

Rowing with long arms

in a thin canoe alone

she belts up against

a riverside tree

and smokes with lunch.

Twilight diverges from

the turned sky

and the stony water's bottom

whose veiled architecture

she is searching

with a diamond studded rake.

Roots where I am clutched

watching from the eaten shore

where our song went with an engine once

parked deep behind a yellow painted door.

Standing in a vase,

looking over the people.

A courtroom lobby streaked

with my liquid shadows.

Granite squares in the fractured moon

of their departure.

And the scattered chairs

heaped with wheat

above the quarries

of their dreams.

Dug into the furrows

with my pain-pen,

paying tribute to the man

who walked into the bridge crash,

with his bald spot eye

open to the heavens.

Flannel flapping at the canyon

belts tied to the wailing trunks,

fruits of blood that tumble

among merciful teeth,

mopping a marble flag

with a granite mop.

The slender wires curling

around a stolen pillow

wigs in a closet of wood dust

piled high on the fetal adult

watching a mute screen

with letters that are daggers

from the sky.

Wings in poison rivulets

searching out the undead meat.

The human race is a torture chamber,

rattling tin walls with no escape.

An elongated nude

roaming ruined harps.

Tense on your keyboard

of empty space.  Peering

over the paint-run waterfall.

A plume of muscle stretched

to a single thread.

Horizon's chalk at the edge

of a piled bed

stool's lipstick drawn

fountain of ash.

I don't buy into the fireworks.

The ground whistles, a frog

squeaks.  The mask of wheat

closes over my bright

eager intestines.

A classroom bucks its chains

an isolated window

passing over torrid earth

an outskirt's red eyes

closing round a tar draped cathedral.

Book open on a wheel's mute horn

velvet belts and pulley's mold ropes

are stretched and singing.

Walls of sand

cemented in blood

where feline smiles glisten

rifts in the ice that sings

to knifelike tongues

in a glacial parallel

assembled from gassy shadows.

Pools shining through a clean skull

stitched into exploding poles

truck loads of severed teeth

descending to a silent grain.

Climbing the pyramid of glass

along the electricity of light

in every concrete seam.

Eyes across the desert

to the ocean surf

tossing and gleaming.

Veins in their symmetry

of ripped flesh

on a cast of bones

above the careful knife

that destroys all.

Blood covering the stone

and deceitful cloth

the altar's peak

sledge hammered and stale

with the unmoving moment

of gunpoint time

saddled moon and barbed wire car

all riding to the hollow end.

I'M FALLING OUT OF THE WORLD

I'm falling out of the world

and its ways.

Stopped on a gem, staring.

In the crosshairs of a delicate manufacture

the lens of which realm

a manhole covers.

Climbing the scaffold backwards

watching the spirits get sucked

into alley entrances

while the coal drenched vapors

palpitate with feathers

overhead.

Breaker of the matrix,

seeker of high clouds

come let me in.

The truck bed jostles in its haze

accompanied by bones

a tunnel parts the sky

birds following the seams

that held its passage to the stars

and darkest blue thrall.

Boulders touching the horizon

where man was made to eat meat

and dream of God

leaping to swim

what puked him out

bumping the molecules

with his belly.

Taping the crown of thorns

cracked with enamel

to his higher head

strained and reaching

above the crib

below the second sill.

An abundant cobra

screwing in the factory ceilings

with a light that pops.

Crows in their assigned perches

peeking at the oily ascension.

The lion's eyes

opening from a long sleep.

Peaks of rugged spires

glinting throughout the night,

the windows of fast vehicles in rows

flashing back from a procession of death.

At the end of the old paths

where the light caved

and the bike rolled into ferns

that wrapped its wheels

and called to whispering vines.

Staring from inside the wood

watching the skids on the crossroads

deepen into coal and oil

stripping my shadow down.

Waiting for the string to pull

or the long captured sky to awaken

waiting for the slut's arms

to wrap around my neck

and stay on my shoulders

remaining for the hollow wheel.

The radio talks of the chicken wars

the long strip highways,

the moon's rustling leaves,

a melted camera

sliding down a cliff face.

Microphones grow like mushrooms

on the corners of the mirror.

The vertebrate's crackle crawls

the polished wood.

A shining pyramid mattress

piled beside a wet lamp

the buzz of a gazillion letters

pieces of the space ship

sharing a common pillow.

Winding around the checker board

with a sun lit cart

cans on ice and chimes

blanket for the infinite armchair

the neighborhood sky

a book with a marker

under smoke.

Walks between the moss

and trees peeled between winters

letting the story fade

for another song.

Engine in a crotch

on a logging road

lightning and rain

tangled glass radio dials

slicked anal smiles

across the jumped set aside pieces

and revving stars.

These keepsakes

I rid myself of

rendered in time,

rendered in blood

the switches turn to red black

in a holy room

where she broke her bottle mouth

on my concrete lips

and split within the peach

of cloud shampoos

dripping down the wind shade

a shelter's wax walls

undulating beneath her wig.

Straps for the sun that speaks

across my numb fertility

Your lexicon of ice

on a tired planet

surf's tongue for dirty hands

a lunar dock to a hang a hook

or a ballroom flashing

for fur lined leather gloves

and masks of labial glaze

levitating in funereal highlights.