RIVERWALK

She climbs in a huge crucifix of fallen bridges
painting the highway signs entangled there
with watery self-portraits
gathering force far behind
the ice like sperm of manmade mirrors

In sugar town she squeezed
a vinegar sponge for me
on her guardrails sheening
my white blood went
tall pillars of crib enclosing

blues and sepia came
from an earthquake in our favorite city
squatters fell out of a portal
inhabiting the clogged foot of the cross

We fed them raw sausage on wheat
peeled casing away
no condoms inside the body
all realms of angels are
a gathering of toothpicks in a jar of fluff

we lay in forks high above water
where poles for telephone wire
and fallen lives in bark converge to make
a crotch of unthatched houses
society gone cordless at the bases of our spines
where we no longer exchange
shadowed information

The two thieves at our sides
are towns whose cries we can't forgive
brickwork of car batteries
stolen from all their engines
to build a skyscraper of acid

Two masons with clay of banks
harnessed in grape leaves
with the hands melted finger to finger
of broken oars, a shrunken highway's
rubber bands from rotted broccoli
gripping to our wrists
until our zig-zag scaffolding comes down
like an earthless watchtower

dry her who doesn't want to be dry
with whatever garment of leisure floats
out the back door of the thrift
to be clothed in labor.

**********

The clutching fields

Shelves of tall square houses
rear up on slants like little
San Franciscos, I am kissing
someone away, chickadees tear
daintily into the birches. A blackness
has crept into their skin
of the news' ashes.

Events have fallen away
dreams are dry as torched tobacco
elbows hit diner counters and tables
with a sound of dying blood;
I found my phoenix here
with a lime in her claw
the sugared virgin of her drink
oils flashing from the rails
of a long train.

We discovered
that we could make the junkyards
shiver and reproduce
the many eyes in many kinds of leather.
Bills are no longer paid
by lashes of gold and silver
and money floats, as your dress drapes
there is no tense to put this time in.

Over the April sidewalks
comes your daughter future
with a fogged rain of cymbals
bent in fortune cookie shapes
from heavy metal attics thick in font
where one crept onto the window's mustache
and ate his electricity like a delicacy
to be considered
heavens are one pillar rolling rain

Neighborhoods explode into plastic
chutes where intimacies unimagined
go secretly away, in disorganized murder
we walk through it for coffee cake
laugh deep as ancients on the wired banks
of halflife rivers.

###############
THE PATCH CLAM THRESHOLD

From the upward growing lattice
pagodas made of lead travel in loose flocks
caught in the anchor rope of the rising
thinking of the town at their back
her forehead which made her eyes seem to lift
in the midst of worthless things--
into his gondola--painted a matching blue

CANYON TAIL
____________

Focused on the chastity of rocks
I was shifted by the loosening circle of exhaust
from a young lady's car-pipe.
It bathed my shoes one after the other
as I observed the rear wings of her hairdo.
I'm always watching what they do
next, and next.

In a wayward current
the habits of squirrels
cycled around bits of failed recycling:
torn barcodes of lost number-language
labels slipping from glass surfaces
in mineral whirlwinds.

They all move
like a more anxious version of the cat,
not actually biting their knuckles;
everything gnaws quicker around them.
Too quick-moving to beg,
I feel the ribs in my coat
tightening.

FLECK STAMPEDE
____________

There's no music playing anywhere tonight.
Some insane silent word clamoring in the background.
Attention severed by planetary movements.
This is how birds begin.

This is how nameless pilgrims die.
With the sign of eternity hammered into our haircuts.
Tentacles home in the sea, bewildered.
Bring me back to the place where a cat's chest fallen
knocks a quarter out of the whole day.

From here we can stare at the star-merge
of extinguished commerce.
Just hold my hand until the waves don't break.
Feel around this well we're in
until the dark stereo comes on.

THE COMING OF AN EQUINOX


She sat down at a far table.
The force of unstoppable things.
We gathered in a crescent of energy
around shimmering pasta
and waited like wolves
the wine merely drying our throats.
All the legends killed off by teachers
clamored in a corridor
one with the music of antique weaponry
and we took to swearing if she walked
the broken glass one of us would brave
the other side of the television,
in a maze of neon pipes
where nobody learns how to dance

the vines finger at open ledges
brick of the hot sun great souls lounging
past the evaporation of all hysteria
in a mist, smoking, drinking the sparse
carbons left from a broken mountain
fueled by a reflecting planet
magnet storms, and the rowing of relatives
gone insane toward green pooled light
in an interstellar nightmare
bars of high color in a horde of eyes
the orchestra of petroleum
flashing rain-wept chairs
leaving their imprints on dying grass.

Mouth of cucumber
at the tree's thick hip reaching
she got up from a goblet
we moved like a cue ball of awful minds
searching the plane she
threw dagger after glitter
through tide whirling mid in the air,
squirrels near the roots all taken for granted
cobbling small sounds out of low space
golfed a kiss into the bough
cross of light cast deep on the forehead,
the picnic dissembled in a lunar rash
our last words will break
the web under these power lines.

==============

nailed onto a clay path
soft grey sounds whip around
in slow motion bodies, solar eyes
lit up in squares, a mutant giver

pooled a low din of smooth rocks
into my last pair of hands
while heels sprouted a claw each,
imprint towards the dark white core

THE HOMELANDS OPEN AND CLOSE


This grinding and polishing
of her delightful animal head
the myriad subcatastrophes carrying a man
keep a nice, clean scientific edge between us
fringe-tipped tongue pierces the snail's nerve
harness lets the man quickly feel fruitless,
to a level beyond the lament
of an elephant in a state of melancholy

Found in the boundary layer
the gentleman, the clown, the lawyer,
rattling and trembling all day long
could never learn to rule themselves
all need to be sheared
to fight wars to maintain

In a storm, the eggs stick sound
in the predawn body moved past the workers
scripts lay muzzle on her mouth and a white blanket
hum of her snore was the tide of revolution

Laughing, smoking, or torpid and electric
the scholar, the beggar, the doctor, the idiot
clamored for war
in buildings that had long been fire
built trading posts
like frozen cobweb
and never got uncoiled.

>>>>>
POEM
<<<<<

Tonight the billiards sound
like little continents crackling
against one another's plates,
I don't even need to close my eyes.
I have a strange, familiar urge
to make a fool of myself,
to fall in love and be mocked for it.

At a table surrounded
by many siblings of wood
and incessantly pouring metal,
a group of women are talking.
I want to know
what they are talking about,
but I won't move
tonight.

I will sit here and think hopefully
of the day when I actually die:
a friend will be sitting nearby,
and then she will leave.
Me with a window alone, going.
Not the window I'd hoped for,
but more than enough; let it drain
my sight outward and outward
in sweetened failure.

I will surge momentarily, suspiciously
like a mere man, toward your chair,
and when you fill it again,
I'll have accepted my bed
for being close enough.
There is nothing on the sill's ledge,
there are many things in the sky.
I have never been alone with it; now
let me be alone with it.

_____________________

AN ATOM TADPOLE TON
_____________________

Silence let my lips fail
on the slenderness you've become
I open an antique door
you slam the shatterproof

in the holiday foliage of broken money
and movements of snail on a jewel
you put a shelf in my chest
for your trophies to ache there
I found a lock that kept torn space
on the root's tone socket
of a sideyard garden

the man who said My body
has become the body of all men
lied like a pop song to vast time
and I tell you about the boy whose head
was a determined hatchet
flipping through the continuum

he took me to a courtyard of toxic salts
radioreactivated
what I had left from birth
of my female garment
and tunneling through its alphabet
he fucked its geography open

and everybody sends each other flowers at the same time
and their tendrils splinter through each drying other
in the pelted mail.

----------
----------

for Veda

I am two dachshunds chasing a lady swan
winter soot on her wings
ice huts at the edges of glacial lakes
two sets of tight canine nuts
we're always chasing

in the hands of gone musicians
departed from our blood and our walks
breeze changes direction as if
soft switches somewhere are being touched

_______________
_______________


two pigeons on the sill between
my house and the next
tucked head to head and bulging neck
to bulging neck
the wind cut into a tall rectangle
brickwork on all sides
of the winged bodies fall
wet clumps of ash became birds
I dove in a dumpster for lipstick and banana
your face is a rotting peel
lit by jungle tatters
the river's kept locked away from that face
dodging the earthquake plan

the gray mates flap in a gloved sound
they take the whole thoraxed place
between my knees and chest
down to a closed harbor
cracking triple joints
on the belly of a birch craft
pillowed tits in a palm of each hand
thriving lower and lower
into the putty cracks and crevices
put down my mason knife
and traded pigeons for crows
electric hat crackling
all of us in love with tin
crown hair and tufted down
together falling

here comes my bald one
old in husbands
with a mint cigarette
guarding the waves in a picture frame
where they will spill out of a Saturday
she tells the electricity she's been through
the murders committed by being mute
stacked sunlight brassieres
on the body of an old junkyard
newts left tails pumping
on the long teeth of fake metal grilles
we danced a windshield

up to the low rim
of an evaporating sky
the girls in the trees
and the boys in the clouds
who no longer have conversations
two pigeons are more than one
and could be three or four
if they keep almost
kissing and pulsing
their necks like that

SAD ANIMAL NUMBER

limp,
scarred.
limp,
buds are
yellowed.

bend easily.
has lit-
tle black spots
on the florets.
limp.
husks that
are dry and/
spotted.

has yel-
lowed leaves
or slimy edges.
are
spotted or
dark.
soft or
sprouted.

has a gray
color or slimy
surface.
smells sour.
have cloudy
eyes, or gray
green gills.

THE BROKEN HYMNAL

You stand against bright fibers
to become a dark
step against the darkness
to become a light.

This is why
men beg to be let into love
and out of life
or to be poured into life
and out of love.

There has been
too much mortal hatred
expressed with tenderness
or expressed with bread;
it might as well present itself
as a mollusk sized like a galaxy
or the ugly shoe of a child
who's just now left the building
in which we stand
like a frozen clan
refusing to weep or waver.

That is why
today I wear the face
of a gravedigger
who has failed
to cover the faces of his familiars
with the ample dust of neutral earth
and I weep
for my cruelties
for the ones who touched
an air train on fire
while I sped by
in the godlike blindness
of an engine room.

You who have reached us
by erasing jungles
you who telephone telephones
don't tell us your name
this time. I beg:
let us escape
the thin hurt
and the landscape
that this language
has created: teach us to wither
like old belts of star
or lit by falling speak
the brickwork of bodies
vapors lent by love
and, very merely
the forgetfulness that remembers.

______________

Before the empty veld turned dark
my machine was vibrating
calls brought more telephone
the mercy of strafing
given in peacetime
the steady, ceaseless drift of materials

languages die in the air around a magnet
of erotic zones in the social body; it will return in the middle of summer
the patterns of energy locked in an oyster shell
or the power that harried it; power anchored
in these animals, the terminals of amorphous creatures

sexes may take turns shaping a nest which they are sent
flushed, male rises with loud metallic whir of peaks that reared up

the maps seen in the adult
born at the time of injection
being aural, just dissolve

cups and saucepans in a pail of cold rain
the waves that roll over the recorder

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

he has three birds
cut up in his chest cavity
the blue, the red, the green
left there by his wandering grandfather
whose family the ocean had never come from before
and the long chain of shells lovers punch into their walks
and the rasping curls of wind left there

she and the river take
the stems of conflagrated forests
on the sinews of a last ride
toss his condom'd soul into the powerlines
past fall and the fundraiser for cancer
supermarket banner grinning
kids imposed on airplane hangars
clothed in paint and filled with pine
the cloud is a soldier falling
who doesn't want to live this close to life

((())))(((())))

Two cultures lived students of the near-death
two cells from different supply houses
and ballet dancers also
who name themselves the terror,
fixing baths before the blue filter
in the mirror of the glass
in timber and iron
to leap the void
to a time before the future in schools,
hills, carved by glaciers, every target cell is in
the mountain barriers.

))(())(())((

the city's machines
for the death-voyage
your bones to wear down

order has totally broken android masters,
their eyes enlarge and alter form;
lacy, fragile and thin of the upper stories

shapelessness or idle shape-changing
to revolt and destroy

************

Broke down the soft furniture
put a church organ in the best window

body of gin and breath of smoke
played until you smote my ragged court

with tongue touched foot soles
and rode an armament of orchids

on the hood of a rust tank
pushed the forest in piles

for me to climb down laughing on pipes
to rip news from lumber, trying

to ignore your dress and your rarity
or feed your little dogs

at the edge of our space station
while the limbs of your sashes push me

into a copper paved fountain
to taste blood from the mantle of the rich earth

and ascend to my room, where the only vote for silence
wafts down a long chute and ignites

call me the king of magnets, attack dream,
this time I won't ask your name, you'll know
I'm a roof watching.

UNICODE BREAKER

The deep forest talon variety
you gifted on me, without buckskins
or fragrance of blood
is now a part of my arsenal:

fields through the curtain of your eye
I watch ephemera in factory windows;
blade mouths you stitched
where silence is usually kept

cord deeper than mine in this chrome island

to root me out with arms of man stammering
yarn wet from the core of a pumpkin.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Pollen fossil long
trees grew taller
on each side of the path,
with no man to walk between them.

Now I move and the forest eats and whimpers.
When will the cicadas begin to speak,
when will we eat rugby and begin?
We can live with our little holocausts.

I have a woman-shaped hole in me.
Who can cut out an emptiness?
My astral hair like a blowtorch
two forms in my botched earthly guise

going at it like criminal puppies.

000000000

The street was carved with pools
of silverblue scales
when I went out to see you
that dislocated morning
burned the study of my body
into the weight of the planets
making my way under the wires
never for a moment a nomad

always threading
through low smalltown airports
with infant fingers on a clunky firearm
smiling into a jacket
you halved me on your doorstep
stained teeth with eyes and eyes with teeth
satisfied by banisters of nightshadow
plunging waxed, coffeecup Niagara

footpath through the desk and miniature
pines and paths of ginger cloves
where something generations forward
soothed its insides to the outside and died there
the bright seeing of fingers in sucking clefts
of treebark, gelatin gardens

masked by the old appearances
you and I shared a meat branch
frail yards above the campfire, joking
at the snuff of our one root in the network
humbling in waves what lust once raced
through city keyboards
laid out among the grim astonishing towers

went through the eyes of terror forward
lenses smoothed round by the occurring wind
people under a dome call it spiritual fire
from the hearth where I walked out sparrowing
my way to spore-flecked poles and planes hiding my power
writing my love of women into sevens
blunt fingers playing jukebox and water
for the name of all disintegrating smoke

you reach through all your arches to touch
my head like a cut third of melon seeds
rushing time ahead to an anesthetized meteor
shower with the woman I wait for
to come and stop me from speaking
my life into blossom of ashes
stem still there
in the white green of your face
a stardeath, a pothole, an infant.

PROVINCES OF NEOCORTEX

saucers on the continental
moving a source of light across clicking sounds
at the concrete yards; an ape felt the bed and covers
and vented mechanical eyes and ears
that upwelling placed at location number 11
a dustbin of dead celestial strands will fall on the back
of their necks, no connection to times or places
her eggs on algae of artificial rocks
in the last minutes of life, or the day the courthouse burned
the curvature of their abyssal fish

a copy of the external world stretched between two poles
audiotapes of thin birch turning high above the clouds
with hundreds of tendon-like wives and children
encased in steel and glass magnitude at his disposal
a cooperative citizen
made from the shells of billions
sat on rocks of whitened limestone during the hunting season
never saw his cord to count the stripes
on a six-by-seven-foot cheesecloth in San Francisco.

~~~~~~~~

she saw a pair of miniature animals have evolved
when she sang
of Isis
afterworld, where she met the pharaoh

through sex rings and his own death
bits of white paper to the wing her shell
check-out counter icecap, the loneliest
religious deafness in the person

hosts fed them wild strawberries and
a memory of being chased by a dog in a previous existence

this world, including music,
lighted deeps of the abyss and the murk sperm-laden
stopped a man from beating a puppy,

flourishing throughout

THE THIN ROAD TO CAT STEPS

I'd attach my blood to a childhood ditch
spray prayers on the rocks there
and the blueberries
there'd still be a girl standing, somewhere
the hills of another neighborhood
calling back to the siphon
choruses torn down into snowlight
we're stalking our table future

an outdoor restaurant, the decorated face
of a cemetery, the last bench where my clothing sat
before the tunnel that pursues life
gulped its subway walls
moved light from society
in cuboid portions
to the dock we share in daybreak
partitioned and gleaming

BARRING PRAYER

a highway above the highway
I'll walk, carrying a circuit of few people
in my ribs and whatever organs still carry
raccoons will be there with me
falling into the river on each side
splashing in deep exterior

life never felt is born for a long time
life I never bore is flung walking
shoes are little animals too
and they carry their lives over a river of tar
and the evaporation of history
claiming neon territories
for the heart and others

she knelt once in an organic place
pooled with lights from under the mantle
that she had gathered
in gelatinous cluster
a prayer of public wings, secret as the stomach of a doll
highway above the highway printed and churning.

I'VE BUILT A GOVERNMENT IN YOUR FORM

between factory hours, layered of gauze
the body Bach played on her
(I'm here to watch beauty speed past) her minerals:
salt glow of eyes, in heated half
dark aisles open up
poor hands everywhere skin's apricot thin

in country avenues there are always sink pots
owls hidden on hidden fences
a tape on in an old stereo
flings trailers of brown fabric
up through the sunroof trees

she's laughing, a comma of yellow light
the glass of omnipresence
got caught in her contact, the planet shirking

now whenever I hear Bach
I get sadder
than an electrocuted city
at dawn and it soothed her bones
where her veil left off
I'm up in the chandeliered air
hung on a fishhook ballet
close to the bulb and the wings of state
sniffing and hungering

FULL CHOIR DEVELOPING MEDUSA BREAD, APPLES, SODA

The way I died then unto the hills, the seashore, a doctor
tree bright with white animal that lives on ice in thy borders
the female cell, a plastic in his skull
these new machines been just black dots constantly overhead
wakes of long white soon littered with wreck

the bell weakens loping love and her own limbs
as though the angels were dimmest analog slapping the paws
to float out of this unto the hills, the branches of memory net
began to hear music shaped, with a mouth for sounds that beg
slit trenches full of gods

shave of a former lover wars to cease unto the ends
valley cave, well cylinder

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am with the people of the ash
gearstrippers who wait
for activity with activity
a sawing blade that never cuts

the hum of human chatter from elysium background
I'm standing, photo of a hedge against a hedge
realms unreachably vast
eyes bearded with furious light

I am the hand that waits for the foot
the foot who waits for the hand
looking for a void to rest my song in
before I go to breathe the earth

you'll glance off me on the way to wife
and children, country gleaming kitchenwindow
the iron cast of determined life

we'll ride from the faucet
water into our own mouths
air greening with the tint of corpse-lit fields

LEAVING THE GLOBAL THERMOSTAT BEHIND FROM LAND TO SEA

Every river felt the leading edge of each wing
from my sins, and with the narrow walls
the backbone of a long mountain on two sides of the cupula,
to sulphur-colored owls tremor at rest and cogwheel

eggs feel the touch for all three pairs of canals
of the tyrant flycatchers to build an electric organ,
male's song more emphatic mass after mass

the rock had been lifted up on sides of breast and flanks;
so the hair bundles in groves and orchards of country
blot out all before the cell breaks apart
fishlet is still confined to read music

2000 distinct odors from one topographic surface
by towering chains of eye-ring; two white bars
winds on ocean-warmed mountains

(These are just voices)

they tell stories
of the boy who died with lip cancer
from drinking the air too deeply
and I listen to water

worry you between
the beggars at the gates
and the threshold of a great palace
playing a tambourine for both sides

I was born inside all these walls
you have held close to town and city hearts
you were taken far along the river's push
marked by footpath stones
past many ferns and the solitude of spiders

craters are waking up in the voidlessness
your way is strangely pure
we dropped sunsets in afternoon
ran past twilight looking
to see so much sand covering the bridges

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

piece the tendrils five by five
go where the novas bluff
autumns tarred over and steaming

ditch-born blondes trolling confusion of supermarkets
three rose colors bouquet'd at the threatened periphery

her birds were a silver hair
tuning in the one skylight
mop ceiling wafted
over by yellow green
leaves, faucet stirring
in multiple gardens.

===================


through sheets of flame from brackish waters (see
instantaneous remains suffused of black and white marble
from a high gallery in which she would flail, spit, scratch,
flashes leaped all over a receptive field in one eye
severed by a strand so tenuous
in the breeding plumage; has feathered skin
from six o'clock, winter head is white with dark
descended under the overcast forelimbless
with their rifles on their backs on the morning as a wardrobe
these comblike teeth, no electricity or fossil jewelry

in a warm, dark room where you will third dimension physical matter
are trees, houses merged in the dim light below me
it was smooth and he thought that it has brown eyes
back, rump and out-of-body
it had no windows, no furniture against it,
gentle sighs; the globes, the existing data

STEPPING AT THE PORTAL OF BUMBLEFOOT

Downbeat of wings; dreamlike states and loss
a small mirror pressed gently through a steep-walled network of black blood
eggs on a dish no need of firearms
tree-shrouded to wait for a breeze and taxi over each child's crib
light is wiggled by patterned sheets
to build a landing field with platforms, ladders, and cubbyholes
in the fabric drunkenly

its good resonance known to drum of a roof gutter
and birds are drowned to the song
olive neurons encode the three-dimensional light fixture--
though I were a piece of paper train
and the rail on the side of the bed and two floating docks blew us in two.

PHANTOM LIMBS HUNGER FROM THE BRINK

The oval window appeared under a pall of writhing smoke
by her bodily need for control cables and fluid lines to the surface alive
towered three times as tall as the bearded young numbers of nurses

and level bombers of piano wire pancaked into the sea
maternal pulse and blood by adding a bomb rack
crest cells slice recordings against the controls to be awakened

to ache miserably of the oxygen through unending daylight
a glider-like shock to the animal's tail, the same light across the icecap
could not shake the clouds born into the body

sees herself trapped in the hold of dark blue robes
the sea of fleece tiny willow and pine-covered
an entire class of faces could go with its fuel

a single tail shock on the past-life person's body
forced by darkness to shed such shackling ceremonies from the wheel

SYNAPTIC TRANSRIVERS OF BABYLON

In the trailing antenna of a nation at war you awaken spontaneously
from a seaplane tender, a hand on painfully cold bars,
father's scrap-metal driven by rubber bands
and with a hole in the wall between the two rooms with birds flapping
and chirping and feathers not to be shackled by a pack of bureaucrats
you must mount a machine and become acquainted with disequilibrium
to seek shade, her red or green bars of light
in their wallpaper patterns; the man with blindsight;
everlasting doors; the kind of cars, furniture,
that vent violent, uncontrollable shapes of music
ice-locked 100 miles away, waiting for a slow, deep cry of welcome

BELL JET

Crumpled wings and broken rotor blades
he rode upward, out of control, until the outward nerve fibers
multiengined over the tropical grassland like outraged beasts,
and the shoestring jungle of the new men, waste dinner in the brightly lit ship

we forget everything, where we are, that the tiny breakaway nation
can come from the sky and their student who felt no pain and died
with an angelic face lawless as his elders

he crossed the coastal mountains by his cracked undercarriages
rang venison, fruit and cream, the wine flowed and glasses clinked; towns
droned across immense open spaces where no TV or nightclub
repeated many times: bell, meat powder, salivation, bell.

------------------

If tassels could bind you in void ducts
and grass water the steps all after
landing like sunlight in the courtyard
of a palace of garbage

you would come down wreathed
by common disguises
an imp in furs

but you hold wheat, apples, a pinch
and deep inside the atom
empty space happening like
an impenetrable light-thicket.

/////////////////

There we went with the letters of our names flailing
into darkness, eternity was told to sit down
in front of the choir

we tore a waltz like silt through paper
out of the eon dragged air
bestilled for tooth shaped caves
where the eras of famous history
collapse into rag ferns
and burnt pussywillow

here the apples fell all
in the same spot one
after the other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

wall bursts out of a light
the candelabra of arms
geometrically outstretched
all to a halo of the same green sun
bodies painting bodies in the radio

who touches me touches no multitude
I am alone in the crushed shell
of your embracement
dragging a salt tail
over small town roads
that never touched the ocean's lungs

armor grows from skin that dropped its medicine
your beauty is not large enough to hold me
I'll comb your hair with my eyes
from the parched window of a day-stunned airplane
plowing the tusks of my manhood's mask
into your garden earth
buried there without the relatives

the pope of a treehouse
and the seven sails that bring me away
from around the rain world

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

see those removed
from that which is old
become ancient
see their broken panorama of eyes
and the emptied river of drug plead:
heal this house, seal off the false divides
play water flute to the drowning mouth

of a failed savior dreaming
freedom from failed disciples
and the desert under the earth
tar twinkling
in the active moment
where apocalypse shrinks
to a tin violet streaked
with doll-stained moons

******((((((***))))))******

moth wings deepen on a matching wall
body cage rises to kiss the paint
where a skeletal train elopes
with a cargo of radiant black

passengers emptied into torn auditoriums
choking on the fire of firebreathers
and loving it
the frames of farm girls
departed from their porches
a silken madness enwrapping
their rooms behind rooms

wasp wings on the backs
of their necks twitching
for the signals of chewing mouths
who pestle the form's
tech-rimmed aurora
without breaking the skin

()))))))))(())))))

I woke up a friend in the darkest afternoon
dreams of post-apocalypse that tormented him
passed through my palms
we walked down a hallway
together that will follow us into death

a girl's simplest touch, the painted corners
that deepen slowly, let me come to you
with something like peace in my hands, he said
I was in a clinic I was manipulated
there were force-mutated human beings
operated on and for a moment in living dream

I was one of them, we were glowing with dirtied
light, we were among the undeserved blessed
who walk, dragging their slashed
numinous unbeings

INCAST


jackalhood fires in my bones
I hear stories of the girl who lived on drainwater
how one day we'll unfold each
other's encrusted valley wings
with a ropeswing into the sea
blue seagull white sky
our masks of salt
skirted in burlap and bellowing

toward the bars of rippled sand
she'll lead a light net
I'll follow with a spear on my back
to the music of lunar waves
lapping against an island of airplane seats
brine on the body and brine of the body
torching a bluefish with severed eyes
my desk on the shoreland
with an old tarp roof

jackalhood ignites in my blood
but I hold it back with my skin smiling
the fanning of her webbed hands
keeps my mammal's guardian
wide awake I protect the reptile
locks of her spun hair
touch the ghost of our doorway
bloodblack eyes that light up
the mansions of a lost race
where spines turn deep to gold
and ancient jazz is playing

OPENDOME

it's a fluttering away that I can't follow
runs its close machinery inside the glass of every window
we call it the world and it won't wait outside
we follow it next to the river
carrying bundles of moss-furred sticks
where the water opens up and the chemicals of light
drift down onto our forearms
to peel back our naked cloaks

)))))))))))))

light snapping on and off
in the the empty capitals
the dancing of human numerals
is grounded in salt
and the huge season turns over

we wither into it like squatters with reptile skin
move trains aside with gusts of breath and then
become abruptly powerless

during the birthdays of saints
and the activities of captured horses
time goes through at exactly the same pace
very few notice anything at all

we go in our cloth coats
under and over bridges
cursing the songs in the air
and knocking them down

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

to the land of forward cars
with false licorice you leaning forward
in a subway yakking
how many are dying how many
skinny and hysterical pinning their hopes
and sinews to the sled blade ribs
of a long dead whale playing ping

pong in their clam sweat sleep
somebody wake up in the tubes of hallway
knock me out real cerebral
take away my vacuum cleaner
find me in the passage vapor from a mop
somebody else's suicide
fling my ammonia hair
deep into the toweled paper
of a sacred closet
talk to me machinery
make me a wire worming basket

===============

a broken rhino I
stop between traffic lights
lost as a time bomb
go between huge slabs of grave
aching with celestials
tugged forward by innocent ears
lost in history

the big footprints fill
with a shining salad of cockroaches
moon dragging space
through their shells
light taxed and misting
I lumber looking
on painted runways

^^^^^^^^^
Lamb's ear, sweet skunk,
I won't be haunting your garden's doorstep anymore
or tearing the moss from your stones
or slug-tonguing my way
into the seams between dirty concrete

there's no edge left to the shovels
the cranes and lifts are gone
the sky is further away than ever before
no worker will be singing with metal or wood
my strut has departed the sway
of your bedded flowers

the sun is close and mute to the coming moon
an oak's length of barbed wire
is the earth's last cathedral wall

we're mating in the past,
the mines in mountain walls
river that away

^^^^^^^^^

starved on a pinnacle
deep in the air's history
light comes soothingly
of phantom tonnage

flaws in birch open raw lips
to the movement of weather
there's nothing happening in many barns
the small farms stilled on a Sunday

hanging naked in a willow
two lovers are stems and leaves
absenting themselves
from the traffic of the world

wide mouths fell open at the arrival of sound
young flower of water

--------------
these walls come out of the eyes
out of beauty so that you will know their threats
shadow stamping on last embers
in a hallucinated field
paths on each side going
down to the projected river

WINTER'S ITCH

I'll tangle in your nerves until
gravity comes down from the mountains
nuclei will dance around us
river past the factories floating

to the platform of your body
moths will perform
their q-tip cotton landings
winging we'll unfold
wormhole between
the barriers of our beings

dragging the air above ponds and restaurants
we'll fire escape up
to the deep oral dark
frisked by dreams, staggering from home to home
you will lie down in my patterned thickets
pillar upon pillar of oxidation
rising

))))))))))))))((((((((((((((

crafting alone on a lunar rock
burnt brick hands sifting
the long slow winds of space
calling names into nameless places

we loft three fourths up the peak
of a pine furred tree
turn heels on ailing bark
and fall down oxygen-torn heights
streams no traveller has heard of

call down the sound of their own body
from above surrounding, drag
the engine lives across a rearing deck
skin and wood reacting
humbly to sunlight, eyes are not eyes
in the canine portion denied, moments
are dying without spasm
and the pools open up between aching trunks

spores raining, moss retreating,
the frost dominant and the air stricken
with ashen birds red-beaked
men of silence and blood
clamoring at all the windows

streaked minutes of music
starts the food cooking
and the stairways tremor-clad
for ascending life
those footsteps breaking rock
that have crawled your spine every hour
while you smiled under a bundle of faded sins
bucking a hollow anchor

the undertow in the blood plays
many notes on mopstick bodies, eating mouths
hot waterbleach look to the eyes
finally all the houses are singing

*****************

crazed with form
your radiant profile

body comes with you out of the river
from spring's death the dams are open

I imagine you walking with a famous dancer,
some dead actors, songstresses
who smite with digital,
big empty cubes of rhythm,
the shore raining upwards

coupling down the unmoving sky
hands on hands I think of you walking when I walk
I think moon fossils into the mailbox,
the light's analogue, bodies like blue-green algae
climbing minerals

when the poisons hit, we'll be
in the highway of the forest's ceiling
making time moth across the bedsheets
reins deep of the blood
tugging from water

the rains on dead bridges move
statues' hands through vapor
it's the coming of October on spent bodies
we won't be flipping the pennies
into water already coppered,
finger & thumb again and again
with inarticulate wishes

we're the spring in a tin can rolling
downroad over its lost leaves
the car is a fog on long wheels
bright funerals and the skirted sound
of young children being hustled
into the wrong daylight,

old men and women eating lentil soup
from dishes of lunar rock
carved in a fallen ocean
brought up from the belly of a living sky
directionless lovers
of salt and bones
dancing in anti-gravity

in the old white painted brick
multiply your presence

flock of girl songing
into the winged everything

a pigeon's mouth triangled
between old buildings soft
as recorded twilight

we'll hold limbs together
in the curved shadow of a palm
well-worn circuits waking up to the river light
we wind these twigs around the crown
that is already crowned
and crowning

rip this day loose from the year
your slave clad forest deep in yellow leaves
among exploded vehicles
painted in heather
tongue halfway out
waiting

the quartz will shine like diamond commercial
watery doorways and a shrinking sun
we find champagne lives behind each other's teeth
webbed bridges country wide lighting up
interplanetary doorways
with the heat of taut strings

we'll walk floating when was
the last time you picked up a newspaper
when was the last time
a daffodil bit your cheek's light
without dropping coins

come down to the swamp of the woods
where the bicycles sleep
where carts tumble under the bridge
to gather mold from the water
and my android heart's arms
go to sleep in the program of your breasts
and I go to sleep waiting
and I wake up waiting
the war days and the war days
the dawn, the inarticulate birches.

*******

burn angles down into wings
I'm a crustacean on the porch,
banish me. Let the goldenrod attest
to the hurricane

moved through in high silver light
above the power outage
and the wind through windows
viciously turning the pages of books,

took me kneeless under straining dams
to look at the boiling, fearful weight of water
let it fill up the lower towns
and drive us up to a twined peak,
wrapped together by the wreckage of many storms
many trains moving toward a vast fireplace
many mouths moving fingers
pecking at laser panels
typing alien languages

I drink broth of dandelion and forget how to speak
you burn the body of a foreign guitar
deep in a rented corner
the twilight of blood is in your dancing
and skirt of cymbals
pointing the way to a shark blue corridor
showered orgies and the screams of chlorinated children
under the sky's pierced light

cemented youth treading in lapsed time
the bodies of ghost crabs, burst white
shells on the tar pebbles
on the sands of a beach born this morning
dolphin belly in the long shaft
of a jungle leaf
the gods
eating

At the place where no thoughts descend
I am waiting, I am petting a tiger
the shop-lined streets are alive with explosions
trash-can lids and mailboxes
careening over broken glass

I'm knitting you a nun's habit
for a sister the world has not yet seen
at the place where thought
falls out of language the drum
is an erotic tantrum
is two bats grappling down the air
finders tweaked by global interference
whistle on whistle down
to the earth roamed by skunks
long lines of blackwhite fluff babies
following so many mothers

at the point where no music rises
to take the place of silence
I am following the boards of a grey dock
toward you and all your colors
you with rags from head to foot
that look like satin.

river pools
the veiled sky passes over
paths rich in mica

standing on a pile of barnacles
we hold hands hearing throats erupt
in the water

arm in arm on the concrete everywhere
there's air left to breathe
make me part of the car when we leave
the streams behind in red light
and the movie theaters go past for years

we lasso each other under a scaffolding
come out into a smashed courtyard
where the cracked fountain bubbles
and a big invisible wheel turns in the walls

wondering
do we erode time as we pass through it

___________________________________

at the place where all roads collapse we
built a featherbowl
vast as the sky's reflection in a small pond

floated forestkisses, while beavers & their teeth
waited to get rid of us

they felled the trees where we live
their beaver huts were stripped
raw to the wood our eyes gave us

at the place where woods go golfcourse
and streams to water cooler
a shadow sliced the cords
that'd pulled our feet through their plans
we were a barrier between
daylight & more daylight

the huts waited
an afternoon was pelted by transparent hexagrams
felled all the trees into the featherbowl
apartments in flame
we took off for foreign moons.

_____________________

hacking at time daily
we try to live outside the ages

I pick wilting wild flowers
you steal a flask from a dim shop

feed my bed's mouth
to sedate the pretty windows
that bring us an ancient light

we observe the younger planets
love on their crusts
you take your grandmother's sowing kit
from a trapdoor into the attic

knit us both kimonos
each stitch hidden
like the circuitry that keeps us
from eternity to entwine

go as far into total ecstasy
as the rent will allow
yearning for a day
that redeems all days
and the wildflowers
stiffen on my ghostly desk
where nightly I carry your girl's body
and your old man's eyes into song

and even as we cradle each other's
best bodily moments
in this rigged oasis
we are tramping sidewalks outside

strangers to the ice age
beneath a shared lace-edged
white umbrella

first brother and sister
to the strays that live
in the shadows of banks
where accounts ran out
like parched canals long ago

I hold the spine of your dress
as you lean to pet
the crowd of kittens
peering from a constructed ditch
one winces at my cigarette
I spit it out
into a maze of channeled steam

we cast our nets on the nowhere
gather a nucleus
from which we are born screaming
and lipsticked, fern-lashed, salt painted

in the moss-lined cavern of a glacier
we are vamping it up
for a night on the last lit town.

ECSTASIS

winding around my loneliness
the streets of a small town,
salting the graveyards
so that nothing can spring from the dead,
paleness lies down on the grass
and anoints the fallen crabapples,

I think of your hands folding expensive paper, a sitting room
materializes around my multitude of ears
that pick up voices you've left behind
and jet them over the harbor in a radio flame,
we're descending the seas already breathless

blooming shafts of crystalized light
into the mouths of each other's presence
among the sunken wrecks, we are wearing
the same clothing as the old hulls,
we're young in the water, we're young
in the water, we're young in the water

______________

I am a ghost in my mother's house
and a blaze in my father's
a sinew of raw flame through
libraries of plastic wrap volumes

to your absent harpsichord blessed is she
to your silent grandfathers
blessed is she among their murmuring
to push you into a pool can see
your pigtailed eyesburst blessed is she

among both heathen & devout, dragging
an old goat by the ankles
blessed is she with both the numerals
and the eye that journeys through salad,

blessed is the belly of
the morning about to simply turn over

_______________________

in the film sky strings were vibrating,
a goddess pharoah came out of the screen blinking,
it was a field day for psychopaths of all types,

when suddenly the mammal cackling
came to a cease, humbled, sunless and unwoven,
prison chainlink squawking, nine moons
out in the hot afterbirth, sirens calling
to the lashed ears of melted wax,

in an undulating forest
bricked over with extra light
I was protected by lizards & phantoms,
muffled shrieks of machinery, the yawning doors
began to sag, I went around the treehouse
emptying ashtrays and wishing someone would come over
and sleep next to my sleeplessness with me

in the film sky talons are emerging
through cloud fauna, afterlives
expanding throughout the commercial area,
a day of all smoke hovering under a single lamp,

the hallway opened, shopping cart derelicts
pushing heaps of dry goldenrod, torn bags
wrapped 'round wild leeks, video bundles,

blood smoulders singing through the bodily chords
of back-up dancers, a light closed,
a light opened, the multitude of multitudes
came in, frozen free of their banners,
tearing long strings of globed lights
from their gelatin forms.

__________________

arcs corresponding to the body's passage through
dull flicker light of all earth

time capsules passing through each life,
deposited there by a wind from the heart

all days weighed down by a reasonable belief
in time, squirrels chomping anxiously there
in the naked background

days jagged with light, pressed
close upon other days, fireworks stuck
raptured in the air

TEAKWOOD KIDS

flapping wings in a broken network
whole generations of sex spies, broken conquerers,
flying through brick walls , ceaseless ascending particles,
rumored flakes of tawny light
scraping hours free of a wormhole,

you thought my body into your sight
you scoured the drains for a trace of it, wanting,
poked holes in the bedroom walls of a great empire,
tore down the flags around a human heart
found land outside land, wandered, wandered,
wandered.

BRIGHT DIVIDERS

I'd cut up my life and yours
into radiant compartments,
I'd break the ground into discs
for your feet to float over,

horseflies with small eyes of men
clamoring on all the screens,
a frantic derby whirling
in a telescopic wood

the life of paint and the kisses
shouldered within it
as pigeons nest in the alley

the short arms and the long
arms of violence fly off,
roadsign stalks cut down
by a small wind.

RIVERBRIDGE

I gaze into the emptied canal
I want to drape your naked body in silk
a magnet deep in the broken rock
has latched onto my heart

lie down in your tight room to hear
tiny noises of human life
I'll be waiting in a small boat
way up behind your left ear

mirror hair blown back by tobacco
who has loved the grandmother of children
she who struck deep into a striker
leveled the flowers on living ground

to lie down with a stranger
brought up a bed in ashes
to the height of great forests
and dropped slender shoots
cloud patterns into waiting baskets.

MELTING BRASS

the long night of fury has ended, we entwine
to fall into the ropes of sodom, long shoots
of golden rod pollen up against the early afternoon,
where we embrace the shadows go greenly
in solitude of puddles,

our eyes are captured within them, we are
a webbed umbrella together in a breeze of chased rain,
this twilight falling through will beach the last whale,
we'll hold hands amidst the vast funeral ever happening,
the false smile of a dolphin
that touched from both sides
the ceiling of the great ocean,

sighing we are the breath of this collapsing multitude,
the minds of a deep wood
kissing through fibers and moss
married in the froth of insect birth
enemy lines melted down to railways
cool bodies nude and propane tanks
rusting against the sound of a kiss held long
in the static of a summer rain, hinging

AIRDOME PLACE

droning gardens we thought of a place
where the years would pass by water,
I'm trying to dream your presence
into the chair across from me, stabbed
by a gypsy knife between roots

my death grows fluttery, surrounded
by flowers, rainfall is broken on our backs,

we're annointing each other with white green mud
sand in the shallows of the Connecticut,
come home America, your children have
deep hands in which rivers run.

sometime later than this moment the stars
will perform whole new formations
and matter to a single body
naked here among the ferns, somebody's brain
can guess bright gas reacting, elevated by earth
and look back at the water, thinking
the turns of space onto a town map

an aching sag of infrastructures
elevates a mammal soul
to the realm of android
superiority multiplied, a holochoir
it sings and moves the dancefloor
of all infinity, a blaze of mice and ants
figure-eights all around it, sometime
much later than this moment we'll ballroom along
the wind of liberation.

paddles in the metal liquid light giving,
freedom of body lifts the top of fevered head
into a pinetop cliff air-spun
the gears of near-total transcendence
whirring turning, it'll be alright in the park,
the wine of european punks pouring
on foreign grass, we'll love with happy sneers
the interworld sunlight somebody ordered,

room filled with emptiness drag
the cat of bright eating into the bulbs devoured
and larger, who turns the spokes
upon a linedrive hero there is
that feline entity within you that strolls
broken bridges to the shore past all fought wars,
null roof of air dangling clouds
in every shape a fungus extinguished
the belly tattooed by eyebrows,
lash burned down to a stump
punisher with moss face healing

long trails of light run down the height of water
me still in my workclothes watching
the huge eye open when a man's alone
girls and their various tassles shrink
into a subway staircase the tails I've yearned for
given up to the spraypaint walls

long trails of light wing after them,
I'm in a cavern corner of a ceiling watching,
I am a huge eye will protect all comers and goers
through these sliding traindoors,
girls who enter and exit the deep car
like geese dipping in green water

long-necked as I am long-necked
in androgynous dreams, the pin head severed
floating above electric lines of water
kept suspended, the sculpture of two bodies
the sculpture of one body
the sculpture of none, coming

HAIRSTREAK CENTER OF THE SYSTEM THE BLUEPRINT OF WORMS

The corals hide in 150 glass bottles,
jars and perfume painted doors
the aurorae can be brush-footed
in the hips or in concert, by the line in fishes

dark island of ascension, lost sticklebacks in flowerlike sea
males of frogs and toads just croak metalmarks

lay their eggs, and a new dance of the honey
hold up a wet finger), and their eyes mirrored or
rigid--glued together it churns and labors,
death throes); glob underwater gardens

he held up a white flash
from the tongue of a tortoise
the light from a barn was a length
of 75 feet, blinding the sight of the land
a separate piece kept in a jar,
his body a high ornament
advertising the untouchable
strength of altered DNA

he came over the rubble heaps
with a straining hardon
beneath the leather fake weight
of a political bible
spoke nonsense into the news
paper lined with trashcans
2 kids of pure teenage sex
frozen in captured ecstasy
the vast expanded territory
our ancient people used to call an icebox.

The red cells loom like an 800-ton concrete slab,
pattern etched in ultra buckshot of electron
she lived with a man who could not
from a neck wound he had received with star stuff--fragments
of a cracked female's own drive may begin to dig pits, clock in the mount
a bedroom in the great fish two species of lovebird
clock in the church attached to huge otter boards piggyback benches
interlocked at the edges as he has for so many thousands
of strawberry roots piano-hinged to every bone in her

This is known from the living machine
presumed into eternity
symbolic fire on the black rocks
along the whole story; tides and a black dwarf
the full thickness of the skin is destroyed,
as pictures on the wall dark lanes of dust,
skin from another part of the body moved
from the front to the very top of the head
little polyp at one end to man
in the literal image of God sending sound waves
on the sides of their bodies moving in a magnetic field,
twirled by a member the long, spiral arms
among a hundred billion huge strainers
of a tough and flexible stuff the system's center of gravity,
made up of more than one sun in a darker color
between the heart and coffee grinders
build a rugged centipede with wood-paneled flat eyes,
purpled, yellow and brown piles of stone
as emission nebulae, this big gray thing flap up into the air
do well in zones 8, 9, and blossom width
water-borne flavor searching
for the dark electric current around the fish

spiders walk on sad days in varied color
with competing poisons, landscape shelled and grey
to construct a railway over the soul
with no voice announcing, with no more music
twining the girders together

each storied cubbyhole blasting rouge light,
socket pried of viewer sapiens
dragging the body of a long mantis
folding the jagged skinny limbs
to construct a double, with no voice
finding a circuit,

to play on the force-field of the inner being
like a water-bug paws on the white light
of artificial water, cleaning the cobwebbed drawers
over and over in a dorm stack or a roman castle,
the tuned breath of religion, deck chairs set out
on the nature of a sun becalmed

You walk through vast airless markets
for a shabby cigarette,
you enter into vague caverns of your soul,
looking for a fruit salad @ $2.99.

You enter a restaurant, like a stranger.
Figs and olives are open in the bouqueted air
mirror bathrooms are flashing
sex on gentle leashes, long pipes lit
in the belly of an incomplete expansion,

reach to me through the microchip
in my shoeheel, oh equatorial pull,
run me over with mercury, abandon my body
in a hail of shattered smoke,
make me part of the unknown world,

bright mica glasses
eyeing up from the belly
of a river carving through

AUTO-LIFE

I am a criminal with no intent, hearing the grimmest
reaper say: you'll never find a better deal than this, son,
now wave goodbye to it
and so in the pillowed room of my life

I wait like a criminal, with a torrid future
already in the works
paint the bottoms of my lungs raw
and hear the sound of a waterfall landing on all the trees,

steaming and waiting, plastic chaired
the front of a laundromat, staring into the unsettled territories
the nourished mirage and the birds many
kissing small each others on that flicker plane

where old women find a bench each next to themselves,
smoking, the low limbs of young trees overreaching
without sense, filtering the collision of skin with so many suns,
the weather of everydays piled on her shoulders she multiplies

I wait like a criminal for my mother carrying a huge purse,
I wait for one of her sisters to geyser out of the iceberg,
I wait for a trickle from the glacier that unleashes lipstick,
the life inside the life waiting

BAR FLUNG

silk dumb in nightclub armor
she tries to spread the body of our touch
past tampon machines, deep hair black
trimmed sharp on all sides, sweat tables
of a tiny beyond, keyboards beaten
by concrete lips, voices tuned
to the rhythm of a smoke-lit picnic
platform exploding, kerchiefs spun
round broken intermittent heads,
palm trees in the wrong place
dishes of soil steaming
the petri of new lives
a mouth unrhyming all known circuits

baby's breath
how strange to find they have a dark heart
tiny as an ant's head

bouquet hand waving
high above the shrunken treeline,
picnic couples robotically remove
white grapes sweet from bitter stems

each tastebud dying the death of a moon
beneath the powerlines leading
stark highways through the air,
who'll hold the hand in handlessness
so tiny within the one cell

I come to get you in a reigning helicopter of flesh,
ducking under the bone blades whirling
you accept me onto your platform,

let the tides know how far we are travelling
towards the depth where things without eyes
learn to blink, where butchered membranes
assemble themselves in microcosmic invincibility,

where the two shells of one vast clam
grow a tongue heart to worship
quietly all flicker walls
of the same bloodied water.

give me a drink that stings the gut,
let me fly into the walls.
there will be no next hour.
in the abyss will reside a something-for-everyone.

tabs of white light in reptilian pupil
to the place where free will is murder
to sidewalks where nobody thinks of dragons anymore--

no loss--body curving off
across a weakening horizon
how airplanes hover
a shell of armor around one ecstatic passenger,
to open love to a woman kind
then hide in gutters strewn
with the low lights of discarded things

on orange sherbet wingspans
we'll finally paint to the last day,
the time-fracture we'd been waiting for
in a flock of mobile homes
holding hands that brandish cattail
in the symbol of our fledgling god

man went down to the sea
a vast, velvety filter
in which the lower bones were long
and parallel wings, the unexpected parts
predators cannot easily see the case
of the bright double star

let the rings wrap around your head
planetary regrets, fortresses all
torn open to the red light,
tomorrow you'll have to sweat it out
in the chambers of death, it'll be
easier than this, hammered moment
kissers forgetting how to kiss
greyed eyes just coins in a pond,
losing the dance, forgetting how
to move across a room, nettles on
bare arms broadcasting a wound
to the whole small world

SUPEREGG ATLANTIS THE TEAM OF BONE THE END OF THE DIAL

uranium was crown of the ocean floor
butterflies produced a rain of blood
as from his seed form garden by new birds
in the cat's brain, hundreds of young stars
of cluster a mouth
and dozens of suction-cup
the dusty pillars
600 miles over the sea

around the tentacles are primitive eyes
a tick-tock in the living
of the cylinder, old stars that have a bony ring
mirror-image antiparticles
the seeds for galaxies
the jaw-crusher

UP TO HEAVEN TO MAKE WAR

he slammed the door of a hotel
where I'd lived, without dying
he died, now I live with the dying
daily I smash a flower freeze-dried
to his terrible memory, to swim in his grief
to remember when he slouched in my bedroom
I took the desk chair, let him sleep
he took the cherry of death, I waited
in the lobby expanding while he swallowed
dreamless bullets where dark nimbus weighed
down around his head, please dream,
dream after dreaming hope is over
dream harder dream in sync that he is alive

I am a friend to the dead and do them no good
dreaming, I am a wreck of dreams
painting he joined my father
in the studio of death sculpting
the clay of death to give this material
sad brain I'll be old in your tracks
the mathematics of self-deceased become
the language of the living,
tongues in the footprints of, who can enjoy a pizza,
who has wrapped up the waters in a melancholy,
who has gathered up a corpse wrapped in fun
who has gone up to heaven to make war on a neighbor

if I could regenerate a corpse with my mouth,
to suck at the belly of a dead one
with living fangs thriving, to slam
with every direction into the walls
of mortal things and crash dazzled
into the sky holds no escape, he slouched
on my dirt pink vaseline bed stunned
with canadian whiskey, I dreamed faltering
his live cock into my mouth, a small soothing thickened
to the heat of music pushing silver eyes
through all bodies of the shrinking survived,

I miss notes played in life's hilarity,
in my engine gleaming to no longer move
he has buried his wrench, he is a fragile nerve
mechanic of all death his mouth is pursed on a spine
of the grey moth, in his coffin
rectum is a butterfly, eyes are pods
to birth a fresh sight of extinction
we kill the ground under our feet to move
toward him, dreaming life
skims the water wall of unnumbered,
the living take the dead into their minds
to make the ground come alive

my grave in the tunnel of a dying sun
set fine in a spectrum of lights
bathes in white salt raining
ditch-born, in a bankruptcy between distances

malfunctions among the stars
watch the sand's veil together linked
eyes pursuing venom lights over
horizon's mantlepiece of scattered incense
hot lights and lips and barn lofts
drunk and dreamless sleeping while the wires think

chirp with currents of the dead
all preyed down to traffic daylight,
stunned by excavated love
in refrigerated outdoors

wings of darkened presence, I think
of my father beating himself with a chain
on the highway of death, an abandoned car.
The streetlamps melt against
an unyielding sky, and all is flowering,
all is justice and grandeur, rats climb
the veil of law no more, all is shrunk
low to the face of the earth
the skeleton lights of gone ferns
flinching against the light
and the laughter,

the black wings of a darkened portrait
fly the idiot homeless
to a cave flashlit by pained eyes,

wings of darkened perfection,
he broke a portrait,
in time, you will become a gaunt robot,
the inspiration ringing in your ears

in a tin box at the edge of swamps shivering lies
a baby bird, the discovery of ultraviolet,
a tiny telescope, the foil wings
the small molten heart, a world reborn in triangles

liquid ship taking off into radio,
cancers of the sun picnic
bench unsteady, three mammals kissing
onward moss ground, warped gravity

twig dousing secret water
from the mouth of a guitar, magnet hearts
springing auto gears over monkey bars and mounds of green
to the sunrise rust of long abandoned swingset,
moments scarred where moons pick off their planets,

in a tin box at the edge we are shivering
in a particle cluster
of many shattered cores, shrunk galactic
reassembled, waterfalls unwounded on many blades,
the hidden joints of fresh made babies

big white bird on lapping water
grey-winged in mussed labyrinth
cattails, bent reeds battered
by the claws and wounded flight
of seagull speckled
or drunk fisherman
through the shore's failing net
of stunned vegetation, long boots
rubber in the living world

birdcalls interpenetrate across
force-field of hospital windows
the memory-lost in meek robes
staring out at their spirits
robbed and shrunk in the lightweight
breastplates, carriers of the old
blood world into the new blood new,
networks failing, sinews snap
out past the lawn legs too slow
to drown emperor head,

underarms of the wings thinking
forks of branch moaning bodies
believe they carry the core;
hydraulics remove the center upwards,
bright world outside pill-stained
window goes on without a brain, memory

there she lies, on yet another apartment
bed we've shared, with another hairstyle,
inside years, walls rise,
time tears a beak from your neck
then re-implants it, zeroes are plentified
lips are small and firm, yielding and unyielding,
we purified silence, gave the darkness
a new world, walked beaches as if
they didn't exist, eyelash built bridges
in the hallways of the sun,
the ceiling and roof formed
unseen daggers. We saucer through
half-lives, under-bridge lands,
through the parka of a vast ghost,
there she lives, she is yet another
city floor closer to the throne
and the foot of heaven, beaming
in corners of a failed noise test,
ripping fronds from the upward current
of an old big tree, lighter than dancing.

from an emergency I reach thread
at the edge of an ocean, scream
in the depths of our house,
shouting in a stone basement:
to the faceless body above,
hiding its motives in a suit of pasta armor.

In mirrors olive branch after olive
land gently on his strong skull,
tongue wielding the air into caskets,
newspapered wings of arm
under a flame scorched jungle gym.

from a remedy I reach into death
ungloved, counting on fingertipknives
the lips among the ribs of silence,
touch the firm breast and the hard breast,
searching for matter.

shouting from a cut foundation airless
to a clay parlor, letting eyeglass
tremble down mortal wet flesh
to rest upon the freeze-dried
torch of genitalia, drained rivers
webbing guts of hungry
from a great distance, the hang-gliderers
suicide, for each worn rock
there is a fresh glob of dough
like a slug, sucking and growing.

THE CHRYSALIS AND ITS COURIERS

two people can both be sleek bodies
torpedoing off in every direction

are zippered replacement, bristle with
sharp spines that offer silken girdle

black bile and yellow in an eel's tail
white patches may be the innermost gravitational tides
his animal is a limpet. It lives as the needle galaxy
when the tide goes out and black-colored lava flows,
monitored well-groomed as he dug up
the decayed tooth of a horse

warm in igloos) the zone the rows of pipes
zone of water or black panels,
rather like jelly: the polar chromosphere above sunspots

Zone 1 and its relatives, the squids
Zone 2 a goggled chick with prisms
Zone 3 is known about how fish sleep
Zone 4 like the quartz grains
Zone 5 water is almost uniform, hovering
Zone 6 cannot be traced with floating bottles
Zone 7 a tin maze, a turtle and a dish of water provide
Zone 8 from thousands of needles covering each
Zone 9 the sea will build
Zone 10 up to a cloth-covered mother whip and pistol
the way squirrels crack hazelnuts.

rags on the river, trolls of china
in the forks of tinfoiled trees
a pair of lovers stem from collision
of artificial space-times
hurling sad moons from wet canyons
where they walk small dogs
of faint clay hearts and tongue smiles
horns of daylight reflected
from the new tar's piece of earth,

wherever their feet punch soil
a violent water takes birth extra
from its own birth blood
from frenzied multiples of triangle heart
absorbed in the diamond of a frail left hand
from the torso mighty robot,

sun strangler in voids
of cooling radio waves
and bikini on liquid forms
of walking sex, coin mirage
face reflected the errors of flesh
the lunar slingshot
twang summer afternoons
to blood gravity, vaginal fibers
in the back of a man's hand.

someone always turns on the rain
in back of our bodies
dancing to shrug off the poison light
when the party fades to kisses
beams of tar and cum
solidify refrigerator
music to replace the spine
linoleum daggers the crucifixion
of a pet rabbit with string beans

live on beer
punch the face of the living moon
through the windshield
of a looming highrise
licking frost from the bottom
of a tin gray trashcan
the sad lives of criminals
the air excreted form
of a girl's fur coat
swollen cigarettes on each streetside
and flying saucers speaking from the air
to flip the storm drain's power and cloud on
slide the steel traps open and cloud on

a chickadee climb
coils of power wire
shingle pebble eyes, eternity
in folded air around
the black on white
on black enwrapt
the bulb thumb of small
body bird
in tiny winds of lobster burnt
breath over the green square
mouth of open dumpster
burst bags and shelled salt
of the netted sea

all blurred symphonies in the air
cinder bodies struck matches in an iris
blooming heat to the belly of a humpback
ferns swaying in digestive fibers
stunned maggots pushed like bullets
out of the invincible body
of a skinnydipping memory

feet stuck to the deck of a murderous country
aisles calling to the market skies
young mouth kissing curved glass
in the belly of a honeyjar

bushes and trunks chirp wounded season
into the core of my peacock being
lapping of bays at the corners
of a machine-crafted room
leaf eyes melt through a thousand couches
to the silence of shade this house
is a painted flower

reborn by a fall out the window
splinters turn to stainglass
skin vessel and bone heart
a winged moon bleeding
behind the shadows of rented trees