.....

The spokes of whisker
 the murderer's face
             predictably tender
  slant-cat portraying
           the beauty of air
                           to be felt;


 thump-tail, unwandering eyes
     will flicker soon
                           and contradict
    each self is a ceiling blister
 canopies of daffodil
                       come down
          with the motion
                             of thought
      and the public park splits;


           right down to a canyon
       the dew walks, with mouths
     made of moss, the winding hurt
                of all life in resistance
                                 to oblivion.

.....

Spent gelatin of partly false desires, make speech eruct
the literature of need, the intermixed body


when you die in the universe
and not even a single light goes out


pray to your dung-wife ear
open a fecal cabaret
 in mirrored scissors
she wails in a tall room


my life is under her fingers
I love her clean head, her lack
of wavering, before she finds
a place to waver


the empire that deposited its sadness in my blood
is leaving, leaving
by the door between my ribs and the door over
my excess of forehead
leaving for nowhere


we will never abandon this world
it will shrug us around
our particles will simply be escorted
And

.....

In an atomic bomb explosion no larger than the head
metric-patterned uncontrolled mankilling


five beehive safelights a flatbed glazer
slow-moving bivalves old mechanical talk


glistening wet and still containing life city square is obliterated


the drifting color of their skin
the strength of magenta

.....

Luminescent below the glaciers and between the bands luminescent
glass plates for insulators, he strung his wire to your heavens
on the summer flora which blooms dethroned by the electrical


the soldier-poet must have won single-edged iron
stale onions always clung as a reminder together with his slave


his phalanx dangerously thin the humdrum lathe
glowing heart of radio a human storehouse
the kingdom of feedback under numerical control

.....

lemming is a goner
usurper her face means death
archers have carefully cleared streets before her


does sound travel through from the other side of time--to find you
the young king gardener here who watches night
the exiled king where you come from loses his heart


her think his reflection in the water into branches of a tree above a pond
make a sound vibrate investigation
the big idea makes a low sound
it is on the edge of the ice and in the water makes a high sound

.....

Dry forms tickle the radiant light
wet labyrinth comes rearing up
in waves from the bent turf
sodium moon finds a window of houseframe
dark takes the river medicine
flattened payphones give off a bug smell
I'm coming into the aftermath of kings
medieval stains on my lapel
blackberry razor geared my stripper core
for the baggage claim of airplanes lost in holiday
faint skids on technological map
forest of slate archeology
and the shifting of home
seaward flung
the hard rubber bulbs of the eye

.....

Trick animals have brighter realms
pulsing clouds   hollow steel cells stacked tier upon tier


      no claws   no fangs   a soft skin


equipped with sharp spines living dots and stars
armor or suction cup   their wakes and gleams glance off


        In aimless drift, fangs and beaks have torn smoke-
                                    screens,                        poisons,
                                    knives and scythes, hammers
                                    and battering rams, stun guns
                                    and electric chairs, barbwire
                                    and burglar alarms
                                        tons of roadway rape a beam
                                         six million rivets built the towers out of
         the mere scraping of a cricket's wings causes the same springiness

.....

    Climactic drones
               out of a naked cellar
      a trinity of forked ideas
    twelve fingers twelve toes tall
           carrying hay bale sized
                        toilet paper rolls
           through the corridors of sealed knowledge
              its power after the vacuum


Comedy king mop, his death through my steps
                           shrimp ginned down the flaking staircase
                            the fear of mother fur
                              falling scorched through lunch
                     waking large in sex propped up in a short circuited cafeteria
                                                                     soda finance
                                                                   the cum on the snow banks
                                                                done glint through the windows of money

.....

goddess splits in the air
        shelves wet with rain
      city hall in a sludge foundation
           tongues through brick


   and if time follows this
            it will have to accelerate
        keeping pace with the mind in panic


            elated leopards crawling
                    with sudden liquidity
                       from the houseblankets
                     like something light was confused by

THE PRISM MOUTH CLOSED OVER ITS SILENCE

Fucking to the beat of a walrus tail
on a wide deck crowded with strangers unseen
the prism closed mouth over its silence
ten panicked strangers in the mirror
gone fucking to the beat of a stereo with one broken speaker
dying to the beat of a wide deck crowded with strangers
the prism mouth over its silence
ten in two to the beat of a walrus tail thumping

.....

When I took root in your wing
    blood gathered on the brow of the enemy
   vines brought a look to your eyes
     the staggering thoughts that felled no trunks
     brought the moonlight closer to the window
              and aren't we supra
                                         natural
                   don't we take our daggers to the diner
where money swerves wet I'm defecting
       to the burnt underside of the mirror
       no pills in my calendared gaze
           just the drowning ocean
 brought you tired to a bright standstill
          these levels and angles of compulsion
                                                            for flight

THE SATURATED WAR OF THE AIR

               There is microweather in small blubber lamps
                still the great dice-shaker    thin, curiously twisted
                 swinging across the eerily lit countryside with a quality of timeless, hereditary privilege


                A painter of street scenes, landscapes and higher organisms
just above the thin ring line in size, in color, or in the canvas and metal
                           space between them toward the earth like a banking air-plane
                                            stretched membrane as a construction mate lion's-mane jelly
                                               sailor's legend one way, then the other, alternating in a gentle roll

......

    A spinning cloud
a gracefully curved dashboard and slender spring wagon
                  well enough to measure by eye   from lengths of grooved shoe rod
                            a sagging floor beam with a chunk of locust


                          rock-cracking frost, scouring wind
                                and the surging lions of years
                                  the shape of the ocean in the polar regions


                                      fit new handles into his sledges and hammers
                                                                  to cut a length of iron

.....

    Before the silent alarm
blooms, and covers me; before
 voluntary clouds shut me up,
        come and visit; be uncertain
        with me about the time,
       help me touch the lights off,
        and shut every voice in its quarters.


    Bring with me the fire of a rug
            spilling onto a melting lawn,
             gravity making hats
                      on the ceiling of a netherworld.
   Tell me in a shifting taxicab
       how the tons above secure your nexus.


      I'm going home to a tree of barn,
        aura shorn of factory tan
          electing the leering masterpieces
              pronouncing the powder of their bones
                        sublimely escorted.

CLEANING UP ANIMAL CADAVERS YIELDS A FINE DUST

Municipal hygiene bells tolled away the hours, dictating
                       the pods boiled in the perpetual half-light of the narrow


When he finished his pleading, he stood meat per acre on an empty dusk
            sleek in places that might starve by the sheer press of human activity


Roots baked like a potato     a chaos of sound equivalent to white light
            showing off running sores or the stump blossomed into walled cities

.....

My name dissolved in colors
late night in the speaking stereo
my butt pussy-halved for a cavalcade
of salival girlmovement, groaningly
                                                        measured
the fluttering mouths alive with involuntary harmony
your flick tip melting my prostate

.....

High above the ground and the head
four inches long and two and one
from the tip of the tongue which serves
girls love to go in wading or fishing the musk


And ducks may be drawn down from below her body, overhauling her
we crossed the same frozen paths searching
with a piston core hatched by the sun
striking ice cameras kept and covered with a thin, brittle shell
            and the head is speckled
                                                 odor is given out

.....

When the little black coil came out of the white pearl
we nested in it and we nested in it
until it drooled like an eyelash
its maker with talons
feng shui with a hackblade
bleeding on light bleeding on everything it saw
this beast's scripture

.....

Sculpted in scar tissue
stamped by sand
orphaned in the prow
kneeled upon by saintly poses
and bored of dying in increments
a lava from the belly maps
new town of flesh
units on scarf patrol
pork units of grass-making feeders
the fences so deep in faces
gazing between the numb pools
tracing a sphinctered moonlight
up in the flattened a.m.
prodding gears into the earth
finding pain to make more pain with
multiplying the variety of wounds
and sowing remembrance into them
tasting the null-scape of grape skin
winnowing the morsel of a blade
and pushing it toward the core
finding it corelessness
refusing to wait for caresses
flung from the first suture impossibly
the looks from a tank wall
the lack of urgency in the sound of light gases escaping
fornication of form with boundless harm
tripled in lack, quadrupled in vacant dwelling
and the surrender of play
from costumes cremated by ceaseless fury
from boundaries salted with night
and endless sound
my feet call my head
to prototypal liquid.

.....

  Cast on an uneven shelf     lapped at
    the circuitry in sand    responsive
burnt sides the cavern of life streak eyes
     twiddling knobs in the rock face
    body onshore for the death dance
 rain falling in the rain room
     history dimmed in the history room
    the sleeping giant stretching my skin
                                   is a quiet rumbler.

.....

Ice-radiates
   thumbs the leaves fold down into the very center
  its own thorn woven bud
                                the air rushing past the fuselage
                                                     hot enough to melt
                                                                              the patchwork pattern of
                                                             the countryside


                                                              nose-dropping


                                                                                   Infra


                                                        Everything    in
                                                                                                         heat

.....

     I love the bell
      that rings and rings in you
     Incessantly, until someone is compelled to laugh,


     How much the cord just blurts when it is elongating
                   what the broken planets multiply
        And that molten in favor, their
             blinking service, too many lips
                 and petroleum surging against time
               heart's column of
                        burnt neon
                   when did you fall away
                 when did my voice melt
                                             tiredly against
                        your graven cheek
                       your pick up strings
                    upward on the lichen cemetery
                   we make the frantic a mop
                       to whirl into suds
                          time arrested catches
                            up and calls
                                       A given name

.....

I want to drink your honey from the first moon
the many pennies all turn into wells
                                       each one
                     is a metal unbound
with the void at my back and a vegetable counting
    to wire the clock with tomato
      sound dummies on shore
                           lightweight hands
      leaving the chirp's stir
                       ache of narrows
                  out of the morning


The void at my back your lips parted
       hills flaking my instep
      discarded shoes and airplane hangars
    the one incision of time breaking down

.....

How were these fuels made candle ice
bird form--her comb and her mirror
beds and precast concrete piers abbreviated white saddle
gill rakers on first arch anal rays


world was talking of her   their terror of the sea
snap off the tough outer leaves  trim the spiny
without a soul she has no other half of egg distress
             to the peak) to the run (the distance

A STORY OF THE GODDESS

    With one's whole body, as these dancers


    Nowadays her husband, a sea scorpion
       an equally fervid stabber
   the world has its legends of life
 a great feast and festival
                      the rhythmical movement of the nymph


    The girl became
    world voracious, and impotent


with a wild temper, she keeps watch
           her one eye over the mammals
                 her severed fingers sprang from her body transformed
        gauze and a black backcloth towards humanity
the chief deity of the lower autumn people
   an armless woman with whom she shares the arctic
    and there she still dwells, keeping this ballet without music
                                                                       from shaded bleachers


                                                                  far north hold her honor

.....

Wheat milk poison ivy metals paint
blood from his mind
everything else that stamps him destroying the rest of the person
a liquid to uniform    without auxiliary towers


                              He told the nurses to begin spill-
    ing food on the woman's dress; the nurses, at
    the same time, inject stings mold medicine
                                                                 ailanthus
                              that the buoyant force exerted on a body provides the strength of the law
                     heat pressure light


                     Closed spaces, open spaces, high places


              dust cats, flowers, dirt hair perfume smoke
                  a woman had walked from the prison seal into the path


                                ragweed       the snake in their laps without assistance


                                   air hammer,        the posterior open

.....

Open my headlamp            simpering unit
    touch raving steps toward grandeur
      in the forms of woman and man and trans
        bubble me over: redefine
      dim galaxies that have gone hunting
             and can't talk back.

.....

Something curled at my brow
     cannot release my thought
 and my body clacks beneath it
      a dull bell pierced by vapors
 while a church organ automatic
             is pushed across subway rails
    we in the half-dark carry our light
      in the form of so many struggling medals
       the soul of an igloo
memory of a task performed by thousands
and the fleshing out of cheap scenery
           to become greater than the world

.....

With your fixity of tumescent passion
you adjust hotly burning things,
                touched by ice-fire too
 in the tidal run of your tour
         in the grass lands
                     in places of sand
                       where our thin alphabet
        is engorged
                  with lifeless fruit
         the dawn a road sign
                      with the windows of a gun
            pine scent under bridges
                  and in the remainder
              of sunken twisted houses
        a kiss near rattled teeth
             the earth missing

LAMB'S EXIT

                                                                                 Ink blots finish phrases
         the pitch-black, star-studded ceiling designed instruments
a sinuous ridgeline five miles long juts out above a blacksmith in his world to a sandbar
  with the crescent's tips or cusps pointing inward invisible, curving from one magnetic citrus butter


              He is so good at killing rift valleys that bisect the country by gastric juices and gravel
                            scratched by landslides until his girlfriend cut him down
                         the integrated circuit's sound body overlooking various cardboard fig backgrounds
                               tests might require him who replaced him
                
                         Brow ridges and broken, battered skull scooped out among the rocks
                                                                                                                revealed in mosaic
                                                 the fragile and rotted bones of a ray of sun
                                                    rocks in the stomach flower for the dead            even the orca

.....

Sponges were doing their work
I was a background squishing
into the salt of life the quick terror
and adjusted to the silicon of the sun
I worked a battle into the eaves and could breathe no silence
divine freedom of error tomb wet with skin

.....

An animal like a sponge of Arabic numerals
shapes and pipe for general use beyond the systems
these sacred places of gods and weaponry
still-fish for flathead lack food and cover the safety of the elevated road
such incidentals as clothes, glasses, watch and wallet against the ridge at the top
may be earplugs--worn by the snorer's spouse.

......

A healing missile aimed at the earth
to transform fibers beyond being
to stack amber on amber
in the aisles of other stretched colors
to never curse life again
in the orbit where it fractures

.....

for Margaret


 I want to walk down an empty five-lane highway with you.
  To see with you the radiant doors on both sides
    that are not there.


When the molten, inevitable traffic comes
 and we have to trade our faces for theirs
 we will still have a secret webbed between us.


 That which we cannot relinquish
 because it is hidden within
 and cries for mercy from itself
Which it cannot give.


 I  want to take your hand in the sprawling ooze
  of endless neighborhoods.
   Watch the twilight turn to a slit
      in your honey of forepaw.

.....

Code symbols in nearby hardware stores
of domed cities pounding results
awash in the violence of marriage


grilles in the walls, veined outlets flush
double reeds by the chamber or tower
noise of the plant cells  arc-fit pipe notcher


smoothly sculpted contours strung on rods
or wires set into strips by pieces of wood
curtainscreen and glued


in a glider with rainbow-colored fringes
through a small hole in the door denuded
a military highway can go into a basket or cloth bag
valleys so green can easily be polished to an imperfection

.....

We can't hide in the green shelter
   watch geese with a clean eye
       torment the electric scaffoldings
         or fall into edgeless water:


           something bonnets our skull fragments
 close cloth to the ears of botched head by a sidewalk
         gliding in cities imagined
        by leaves on a wing


    we aren't able to uncloak
      what goes over or under
        our silently trans heroic bridges
        of cock and dark marble
        what flows through blood that we can't capture


           in dust the struggle of invisible liquid
             makes a smooth a fragile imprint
                                                               and the dusk glows in its
                                                                 chipped-off bit
 of triangle sun


            this threshold to be  crossed singly
                                            what is it?


                wood falls
                     the blade speaks years through a handle

.....

The corpse is water alive
                         while harp and gray
                                        soothed by heat
                                                        milk to form
                                         one endless iron hoop to encircle
                             the point where the river withdraws to a cooler
                                 forged at an angle to match the dish of the burials
                                          with his left hand with a hot iron with a loud voice
                                         the insane were whipped as a floorshow
                                            the proceeds going to unwindowed keepers
                                                   a frog in a colewort leaf in a new earthen pot
                                                                              between the two panes
                                                                                                unable to sweep

.....

bottomless without a thread
 he who wears the name assassin in my skin
                                                     to block the country of the air
                                                       from the country of the ground
                                       his pain in my stead, unwanted
                               how footsteps crack the palm


                                     history falls off of me
                                               and anoints others to talk
                                                   their colors into me like lead
                                         and waves me in the ocean's face
                                              like a strangled traveler


                                     bottomless without a thread
                                                on the nothingness of progress I ascend
                                                      soup, an asteroid

LANDINOSCOPESCAPE

                              At the broken apex
where green leaps up from the concrete border
   the way I see John with a microphone
sanctified by sky-flakes
        brought down on an amplified trailer
 by the torque and the thrust of his voice
when it is a catalogue muffled within
               it is stronger than light


How he doubles himself
     anti-tuning fork in a public room
           the instrument in sunlight and in
  damp waves, dense machine reverberations
        beach tangle of fiber optic electronic seaweed
             brother of thuds, of soft escapes
                               amp-mouth ratio
              life-gatherer peering out of a well
                               to the vaster water
                            a mast of woman
                        and a bladeless anchor massive with tongues
 casting lines from the sun's tow-rope of earth


             a tabernacle'd garage, bass-strings
    El Greco, naked mannequin dance
               standing on hips at the drum's heart
                      from which the door flung him back
                                                            and now the canvas takes him in

.....

darkness ridden into damp light
         broken harbors of sky
     zig-zagging wings that have no life
                  doorsteps into basement
                           house sheared off by a mineral flood
      smokers on telephone office entrance
                  coughing a streetlight bulb into thought balloon

.....

Batter into a useful shape the nearest quartz deposit, with the bodies tools that argue
 echo sounding in time of peace deep scattering layers     
   yet all store the salts which give bone violently with both hands by the size of their ears
    to the weld in front of the flame while shoreline defenses, lighthouses, dwellings identify
      the owl swivels its head, eyes glow in the beam bone cysts, benign giant anchovy, magnetic tags
                                                                    artillery of observation  apes in light many times
                                    as narrow canyons, food chains grunted warnings of an artificial afterlife
                               lethal scissors and mineral deposits
                    needles breaking down the edges and the side walls
                                                                                    the acoustic rocks

OUT OF TRANSLATION

for Kevin Smith


I walk right here on the street
there is powerful knowledge
in my deoxyribonucleic acid
so many passers seem
absorbed in apathetic particulars
related to the worst of the moment
that my heart is hard to believe
and regardless it lifts me up
knowing the coming radicality of change
when we will not be here.


When all the dissolved mantles
give way through our upwards
to the whole lake of antimatter
and we find the fumbling of our tongues with foreign languages
reflecting barrenly on the faintness of our own
and the mind and the hands of the mind
fail at rescue
and the whole project of human affairs
is more taxing than the idea of nothingness...


These days I don't believe in narratives.
I don't bother with ideas.
Planning one's existence is ruthless to the soul
and we all try it, relentlessly.
I want to give up on reality
to stretch my arms into another dimension
but instead I jerk off
wash my kitchen and my cutting board
take some vitamin pills
with an egg and spinach sandwich
and walk to the post office
waiting for its reality to be
almost obliterated
by the blitzkrieg of maniacal history
and the uncoerced erosion of the stars.

.....

Adobe wall overlooking the hitch rails, and the gang tied
shade for spring-fed bluegills
sharp hooks, with open canvas steps facia fasteners
      underneath post bracket
                              aluminum handrail moulding
the leaves are long, the tough skin system of radar
 a cunning timber beast wrestled the ancestral names young bushwhackers then mounted
  like silk or jewels to their intimates   recognizable pools
  motor spook walleyes in shallow water   honoring rice

.....

We ride the thinned-out hills feelers with boundary
thin rivers leave threads in our recurring instep
we brothers of rubber wheels
 and the knocking sky's frecklight
      we share on our shoulderblades
         the bucketmouth of ultimate cancers
a ditch of purple gasoline shadow folded
  up in a wallet, into a money hatchet
     back of the deadbarn ferns at the edge
          the gripping lake of monkeywrench tears
              spider's door vagina at the bronzed rear
                  of the head, of the mouth
                    explaining in music this is how we were eaten

.....

To glow a dull red or orange in which she orbits it   as a holy city
that hot objects emit light         a mist of fine oil drops   the intergalactic pact
at the short wavelength, or blue, end set into oscillation
simply too small a bundle of energy to be
the pudding model incubator
the spectrum called unending circle
the coils of an electric broiler for the outturned eye
rolling hills everywhere and the current flowing through them
folded in the golden bubble of your sun system
the more heat a body has   considered, in a mysterious way, to be
                                          replete with immense rays are not deflected into the powers
    the law of the one which governs all things frozen

.....

Orbs deflecting solar smash-up
    we knelt and remembered
       all the luminous torture
          of having been present,
             in the depths under the fireworks,
               watching changing forms of fire,


groveling for sugar stomp gummed bleachers
       in the dank factory mystic-lit roadsides
             where I follow my asshole calling:


leveling the above and below streets
      multiply in this uncandid, greed-muffling air,
         a coat hanger thief, a bad bargainer
            with the shaper of many eyes
               that stare from cliff-faces on cities
                 until the cities go out
                   and the plague of selling grows claws in a wood.

.....

If I loved you with money
    you still unadorned
      if I loved you with a nuclear army


if I loved you in falsetto
  while the incoherent applauded
    and we bowed together through             
        a curtain of static to be cut in half


if I loved you stilletto'd
  to the unknown where you walked
the rebounder's body is filled
   with blank spots, a kind
          of glitch lazarus


rising with the heat of money
 money staring at other forces in the aisles
   that bear him to a rivershelf tirepit
 budget wiggling dragon death spectacle
                    that comes with no hint
                          of the twin oceans
                             of the mercury sky, a foil
                                      torn with warnings

.....

      The hands lack oil             a huge new gateway


       zones of the world up through its double row of tapered
 the soft, feathery leaves are   heavier than the rock underlying the con
    nearly all other damsel
          the number of luminous traces on the sculptor and his assistants
             appearance of both tubes stood inside the temple


like that of a violet      the huge bronze fig
             in gargles and liniments with the gleaming marble façade of


          in charge of the depot of charts and in a circuit multiplied by


                                                                            lustrous ivory
                                                                            drapery of the brightest
                                                                                               could only

.....

I wish I could save just one being
from unrelenting sorrow, that my hands
were the vastness of imagination,
even that requiring a body,


that my loves, mired in this,
could leap out and return,
through the cleansing rings
created by their exits,
even that requiring a body,


so that the sun never loses skin
and the moon has no journey
without this imprisonment, that holds
the core to its core,
this chaos just within shape.

.....

While a second taking lens records on the end of a pole
the slanting rays of light which, coming through clouds, resemble death on the rocks
days of history shiver as if in a snow                            posthypnotic
back hairs are erected in anger and gill slits the lower edge of the paper
a lighter patch on the location of a gland that is the wish of the hypnotist
the bulb of blowpipe, the intense brown hyena buff-grey or dirty
hung vertically in a glass vessel   a layer of solvent in the vessel
plants with their strong beaks   a common nickname for the chrysanthemum
they are kept safe inside wooden boxes to protect them from dust and magnetic influences
used to make safes, ball bearings, sperm or egg
a gap separates the connecting wires and the cutting edge of various
                                                                                           automobile bumpers and door handles
                                                                                       for their extended foot can excrete
                                                                                                                       his daughter's dress,
                                                                                                                                  and the wall.

.....

     Sent warbler, drive blood of scent
     into my windowsill, into my circuitry of footbed;
           put the shape of your hair on the mantle's far sharp side.


    Where we are standing is always flickering.


     And we watch ourselves standing there
            I see you from all sides at once cutting down
         the barriers of time warp
            incisioning a dream into my clogged
 domepiece, where you sing for new furniture


      and the lust of garden statues
           drives the rain to another town
         we office escapees are a thumb-harp of clits
  diminu intuiting the spiritual headline


        that there will be a scarcity of horses
           that the market will suffer gains
                from the dream quarter.

.....

Mule cars, the clothes    the shaft to which they are fastened
                   to pass before the elect at high speed
                    more than a hundred years after the first balloons did not fly
                     there's the sonofagun commercially
                      the pipe in his teeth   bag under the worktable
                       kicked an envelope to spoil a sensible man's honeymoon
                            coursing through the coils  enough to drive a vacuum
                      one needle valve to control       a distant waterfall, a blazing reactor,
              sweeps your floor and washes enough          chines more tight   a new trinity of
                           exists of the pyramiding milking machines to automatic barn cleaners
                             water or the expansive power of the wheel equipped with blades
                                 from fans to fuel pumps, from egg time; even so, the puffing steam
                                   power and the changeover to loco hands, our backs to the long affair
                                drill or grindered years ago, if a storm set the slaves free;
                                        the fabric globes rise, the fires   with wet straw, sheep's wool,
                                                                     and paralyze myriads of machines as well.

.....

I imagine my bed is a float
about to go over a waterfall.
Something is filming.
I will be asleep by the time of the
descent, but just barely.
At the bottom there are both
waking and dying.
The ferns and the dry fallen
breeze familiar noises
to the damaged labyrinth in my ears
unreached by reality, untouched by sleep.

.....

turning the river stone over and
          over, giving it the imprint
                            of human cells,
        watching it take on
                  the oils of flesh, texture
                      smoothed
                                by this meeting, contours
      blended with light, back in the pocket
                 to age, slower
        than the carrier under woodland waves
              on the eaten path and the floodshore
                with a sweating mineral
                      close to the loins, becoming
                   a bicycle, a mover of particles
                              to be paperweighted
                    there is a hard line in you that will not be erased

.....

pulling out coiled cables:  Oh

                acid, juicy

            its name from this

              He (the burner)

                     a cover to sleep under

           Dark straw wood punches, rock drills      shears

                                  opening an envelope bag

.....

Lumina
shadow stains the multiplex
a symphonic mtn
fevering in words


Granite-numb,
diving for girders
in an ocean of unnavigable air,


Firm in falling


I picture gravediggers in a monopoly
 of caverns, polling lights, and the sign
  of a horse defecated into a numeral's
   heart.  I supply the plan horrific
     with energy, run trace to
        the belly of the sun,
          sigh and make love with this
            irresponsive violin.


 My tenants are kindling the wires.
   Light's forced on their potato alleys,
    moneyfuckheads, who can move nothing.
      Similar traces moved lilacs one block.
        Battery of clamshells in front of no cinema
           Town dropped like a key
                Under the parkway of the vast celestial

PLANETARY FAUNA/A FORMAL UNDRESSING

deciding to forgo the usual girl on top

 when the mermaid wore a shell

flipped onto her knees and leaned her against the loveseat

 and the forest crumbled into blankets

turned her head to glance to her to get inside her

 for the remembering shed at the waterfall's edge

slid into wife’s ease, and as I watched

 the promise the luna made to no darkness

thrusting into notice of my own aching

 the dawning of upper layer light

so caught up in watching arousal

 as our waiter pushed dripping emitting electromagnetic

freed to match rhythm to theirs the sun

 which are harmful engorged turned on

by what I was seeing and the sounds more

 radiation and even gamma and I was glad

when I saw harder and faster super-charged subatomic

 mainly from the outside, both on the edge,

  and I knew materials such as aluminum or plastic

   hand not stopping till I’d drained tissue at the microscopic

    ass clench and release over whole-body radiation

     while he was busy filling scream like a quiet lover

      a bone marrow dose kept pumping the edge we were all spent 

      flinging wares, mysterious instruments on the city surface

    up his pants out the door, not wanting

   masking a long parade    employees out of our room

    in the morning through a smog of open earth

  bed, both fully satiated after only two days
 smoking in terror

.....

There are leapyears
     lost under me,
   whole calendars in murk
       where the eyes go sinking,
    women in a hedge
            around my bed,
         a lurking instrument
      that cowers when my memory
                                 kicks in,
       and so many fathers and mothers of
           industries that will not survive.


I go without searching,
      without prying, with so many
          limbs windmilling
                       in my limbs
  that subsiding is impossible,
       but without favor, and
  without tact, I hem the fever skyward
                                        lacking a garden.

.....

Ding  polyps are the long ones, thin tentacles that catch any immortal animal
      stubby and shaped side the urns little buds


          brain is dead if only bombarded with radio brain death means
                                                        past of cold chicken and wine electroencephalograph
                                                     down ordinary daylight paths, arcs spring from tube to tube


                young female corpses have been himself: he topples a huge statue
                        the sound of a language he cannot understand
                                 extracellular, hesitantly, he reaches out        to atoms