MONSTER MOVIE

Flaxen-headed smiles

from between the cutting waves

oceans of leaden numbers

from the windows of collapsing towers,

ticket windows on fire

with beautiful departures,

dove's wings on a ridge of frozen milk

clacking like the body of a bug.

My quill fingers pick up liquid smoke,

I can't speak to the only one I love,

my lungs are a map of her ways

who walks the balconies connecting

these boiled islands

her powers give the red hallways

a glaze of polished salt

flickering with tidal shadows,

the cloth that wraps her

is pressed against my mouth,

the glory and the ferment

of the trees and their reach

is entirely within her,

I am wept by lights of the electric streets

whipped naked at a dead bus station,

if I conquer these peaks of sand

I'm still a slave to her autumnal enigma,

the grave glitters, her speckled beams

deliver the roots to earth

to make me her couch of birches.

GROTESQUE

Lavender pastures she laid to waste

I laid in like a dissembled rack of bones

steaming with cartoon thought-clouds

of naked words afloat in my foolishness.

The sky has prongs of light

that move my ribs around

like a finger bowl.

The gaps in atmospheric mantle

are filled with the faces of women,

delighting in my refined cruelty

to a block of wood,

watching the rivulets

of competing suns

carve me up.

Crucified with phalluses of brass

my blood waters the violets.

Mushroom fences hold back

the snail headed cattle.

Lion's ripped mane

and lion's claws at task

I tear the carcass

of my last remaining prey

while the pretty hyenas laugh.

I watch the neon

merry go round

spin off into the night sky

without me.

I check the meters

on the labyrinth's

ticking walls.

Ferrets dancing on vibrant pipes

that penetrate aurora borealis

lead me to the rings

of a frozen world.

I am covered in embers

strange letters of loathing

transformed to a cage of hands.

The streets blend and blur

on the chugging of artificial earth.

I watch the wheel come back

as a cloud of sand.

When the door closes finally

on this shaded cage of glass

I will be a willing wanderer

on the chains that are all human paths

leading to celestial incineration

with a side of french fries.

Roads will throw off

their furniture of wheels

lava will gulp the clock

and the plans

for more business meetings

the ships will move off brightly

into the math that kills.

Playgrounds for adult machines

eclipsed by gassed lands

shorelines eating the scissor's handle

in a burning hand.

VACANCY

Storm of the eye

that shuts on blood

sky's epiphany that scours

the carcass-stricken ground for meaning

bricks on fire with desirous paint

wings flapping that were never here.

The crushed canisters of blinding drinks

clouds ripped by a punch-red sun

the girders of x-rayed skyscrapers

glinting through my rotten soul

the slow rape of the morning

that rolls my wheels.

Flies with bulbs of multifaceted diamonds

fish with monied scales

and spurs of syringes breathing

the luxuries of time

that build a reef.

Sand grains in the drowning salt

the light-cracked acres of deep black water

breathless revelation of

death's hive to come.

Throats gushing against floors

that are some double's ceiling

lilacs pouring from the doors

of flooded domes.

I'm a crate of discs

in a dust-ridden ring of restaurants

that holds no bleeding thing

in a paw that sings.

Bones played into the taffy of dreams

by a bad highway

torn tar that rides the sacred

blood removed from life

organs hung

in a hammock of frozen flowers

the far-off stare of emerging nonexistence

sending up its smoking tongue.

No words for the many freckles,

no words for the red red hair.

I beat the white walls

with numb fists

but no flowers come.

Walls of stone departing

from far flung fields

crux where she gave the well

a stem of gold

to the chimes that taught the wind

another language

rivets born in tears

that hold a wooden castle's

ochre painted walls.

If math is the mind of God

I'm a crooked wanderer

a crest of exploded skin

blinking on painted sand.

Trade winds pick me up

on a chain of light bulbs

roads of a fallen map

take off like determined seed.

Mantle of ancient depth that she

set flowing like the milk of cactus

dying husk of an immortal reed.

In the wild fray of her hair

I hear electric crickets from another world

wings taking me over torrid landscapes

drawers thumping on the bureaus that were lost
rooms glued together by a desperate architecture

doors made in haste and windows wanting

beams that harbor woolen hearts

chairs of ice on a melting shore.

Hours were rewound with hooks of steel

to spatter the glass planets

her winding roads are what my circuits feel.

ENTROPY

Dragged along the reef

of twisted frozen souls

like a dented discarded beer can

child of the rip tide

haunting fallen architecture

and statues wearing painted slime

in the invaded depths

grasping with hungry bones

and torn twins of muscle

ghostly flesh speared on goldenrod

like cobweb sagging on a field of spikes

dewdrops gathering on milk bottles

in some ancient dawn.

Lay me down on that leaning porch

as it slides down the cliffside

let my tatters be a looming flag

or some sail on fire.

Let me be a skeleton's nucleic print

or erupting light

black butterfly of entropy

let me rise on breaking branches

and eat the red crest's

raw persona of the tidal heights.

Pinned to a jeweled leaf

in the rocks among the pines

curving and laughing

toward the warped sky

into some larger being,

some problematic blade of grass

some mushroom cloud

in fishbowl glass

reeking of intemporal existence,

shedding bark into a bucket

of copper-lashed wood

and the sperm's breath

of exposed cellars

blossoming with ferns

and spider's eggs

of hot translucent light

souls cut by the clock's hands

descending into pinnacles

of dark height

beds wedged into convex ceilings

of milk bones and rolling

parallelograms of color,

all sliding on her fingers

filled with bright ancestral tools

for an astral use.

Lavished by the lick of wicked fates

in a concrete block

surrounded by flowers

one way glass glinting

on a pillar of salt

in the ragged beard and scarred flint

of a tarnished wizard

my brain explodes with bulbous girls

grinning and tastily gnashing

their little mouths of light

on my torn mountain side

clicking with heated vents

and rock slits of immense power,

the trickling broken moon

that makes the peak of wolves

collapse in a ring of doves

and wet gray ashes,

fronds yearning

with the voice of liquid shade.

I gather these little tendrils

into a structured storm

with many wide knots

many centers of gravity

pulsing with devilish eyes

and place a throne of red velvet

for you to sit in the strummed valleys

of my monumental web

these vacant headlights

are implanted in the caverns of my chest

beaming to nowhere

and I can't get down from the heights

of a mountain lion's diet

to sit at the tea table

sharing fables with basic bitches

small volleys for the foam of the new

gestating in the end of time

like a mouth of ultraviolet

like a seeded wound

like a tongue lashing to somewhere

chartless and abandoned

this tender vein

in a maze of movable steel

vast as a twilight moon

for accelerated earth

oceans rasping in her girdle

for a thousand robot butlers

setting chairs on the ceiling

one final word.

Track me to the cave of my ancestors

pin me down on a bale of hay

set me on fire with oil

still I come up like water

from the earth

crying like an alphabet.

Curves of pine coated roads

eating machines and metal grass

an angel of death in soft smoke

wick of the candle's end

high on ephemeral hilltops.

I melt sand to catch

your glass in deeper glass

I sculpt the mountainside into

a spaceship's window

this moving portal's

gunshot of light

plays with my bones

I follow its birth

to a stone seed

to the bronze spray dancing on wood

in the flower of surrounded hours

where her flash of eyelash is a waterfall

and the sky has gravity's balls.

I've been flirting with life

my whole life

but life doesn't want me.

She throws me off from places

where lice can cling

and I'm not anything.

Cloves running with shiny smoke

give off more existence than I.

The pie has cut me,

I can't get anywhere.

These streets and signs

are cages for kept birds

who keep me out.

I can scream where they

can't even speak

they can live

where I can't even be.

Time's folded

and it can't

unstick and flow

I ride a spiderwebbed spyglass

across a bridge of dinosaur bones

to see you are the eye of the storm

that enwraps my life

belts running mineral scythes

around abandoned planets

could not cage you

in their ancient ways

I wait in a suit of extinguished wings

I wait for your love in a chair

that has just stopped smoking

you stand on a waterfall's lip

while the lexicon of light

pours out from under you

and I am laughing in the leaves

on the water's glaze

that ride to the whirlpool's fade.

Stalk's blood path of beheaded flowers

shimmering atop green rods of light

casting hooks into the sunset

that hauls them up for one last gasp

as the shells on the bottom of the ocean

drink from life

and the rusty crests of hills

rustle in the gulp

of enveloping power

I shrink wrap time's frozen morsel

and put it deep in a fire breathing trunk

whose hinges are matching the fingernails

of one who watches me depart

like saltless meat

into the belly of a vast slug

fissures darting on a spaceship's hull

that writes my name in liquid metal

to be sealed by her vision's flood

while the dams break bread for mud

the pines and ice of my surrender

roads painted for a globe's December

seed's pulsing root of crude.

The moon's wisps of cloud-caught light

rake the cracked auditorium

grasses with gummy eyes

spying through wrecked window frames

to the painted sperm and egg

of rain-swept prairies.

To a palace of glued leaves

to a blue and tide-high October

earth clenching its mad seams

oozes purple wrath

from lips beneath miles of red clay

the baked roofs of cobweb synagogues

forked lightning's promise of grapes

not aged or dried

by the singing scythe.