A perch of concrete moss
crushed rubber bands
and beer-fed paper
setting moon scribbled
by bramble thorns
the lonely melted shoe soles
long courses of sand trap green
and hard-slept benches
where a scrap of nerves
hid from light
caught vein leaves
and sprang up from
vacuumed rain
abandoned courts
of hole puncher dusk
to staple likenesses
on electric poles,
come out of anonymous houses
smeared with smoke
and bedside table hair vinegar;
halls whizzing through
upper chambers
without connecting floors
the flight of velvet ropes
guarding antique curtains
the gilt edge of all our interactions
cracking pens and wishbone jaws
the sucking mouths
of dashboards on rewind
digging drains in earthbound glue
flagging ship side birch
with graffiti and scheming names
a grid's lynch of satin sheets
amphibian seam of ink and fences
a grinning womb
guarding the river's trigger record.

Embryonic cell clouds
tapped into the high wallpaper
twanging bones
long ledges with water
strong roots upside down
ripping the wind
seats of pale leather
flowing from windows
brooms on fire with ancient text
straws lettered and bending
on dark concrete and grill-scorched eyes
walls that breathe through whistles
and whinny on their knobs
turntables worked by thorns
in the belly of plastic things
the sheen of smooth masks
from a vortex of blades
lopsided branches
collecting wax and teeth

Waves tumbling long grass
nudes torn up in a field of shells
cold upright cabinet head
opening rows of skinny doors
sheets of pressed flowers
yields of baking crud
circuits of flashing water
in the under dome
butterfly towers with rope arms
round bridges sprouting hubcap daisies
brown paths on the flanks of green hills
straw baskets of babies' heads
and the stippled highway raging
a salt stream through every sleeping eyelid
a searching finger that never curls
to point back home
egg puncture and egg sides
and egg heart going splat splat splat
on the hurricane siphon
a tarp leading outskirts wide
catching ancient footfall.

This distorted fink,
this reflected smuggler,
he thinks he won't get cancer
because he's handsome.

This dotted beast,
who sits in upper rooms
abandoned and simultaneous,
waiting for the light to be cut down
to a manageable stream
by some cloud passing.

Keeper of these dusted and
sucked-out chairs,
tumbled through a wind tunnel
antiseptic on the grass.

A shining armor of plastic congregations
to keep the mud.

A fountain side traveler
stapling his bench
to the life raft.

Squares cut into wet cement
by a dancing sword.

Sun dim sanctuaries in white green grass
long parkways root cracked with standing bicycles
prairies shot with pipes and tomb architecture
dugouts paved with under drawer laces and smashed cans
seats glossed with maps and laundry powder
the changing of small coins in cloth-clapped hands
water-fried faces bearded with rinds of ass and tobacco,
reflecting a cotton tumor through a glass female,
a candle's bloody mouthed crawling fairy
thinking weaponry and fog, a decade's
thumbtack braille of the body,
toad of the airways slimmed down
to fit my tiger torso,
mandolin leaning hard
on a frozen river camp,
with his grimace lurching in coffee,
my sliver twin grabber of windowsills,
greeter of all beaten laws
seated backwards to meet the brush,
prepping fuel-drenched people,
an animal's bright kitchen,
the host of observed galaxies,
coasting on computer,
tugging a copper-toned similacrum
with the freshest juice of eyes,
a time drainer.

Silk days open like blowing fire
walkways to the sea on long arms
suds of hair and froth of skin cells
dripping long blades
through the light of the body
the run-off from which
restaurants and cinema lights spring up
tangling with their wires and repairing figures
as they ascend on torn wood and sensitive metal
flinging cones and bent entrances
into puddles of oil
that reflect a tree of suns,
a ring of drums in painted grain
the drive of pink serpents
to a dark and leading curve.

All mouth sky rise
a stem through every bud
rails hammered into soil
eyelids dancing on the pillow case
I try to jolt the electrode heart
make jump the wet pebbles
on the sheen of printed gemini
slide saucepans over the seeing bulb
flickering loaf of bodies
that have answered death
the shell of an underground backyard
pierced and rearing caves
of light that will not be somber
white bulbs of empty space with no beds
the stripped blood replying.

Talk of hills and brunt of stumps takes me
long shard like paths
fronds of nerve putty dipping in wax
broken-arm nets in elastic flipping little corpses
all pebbled highways and tangled cords
pulled-off doors in off-white paint
rusting to the melody of a fragment's dawn
the shadow's slope wet with saliva
pathway to a pepper garden
crying from headphone eons
to slaps of vagrant water
the salt on her tight trunk
an ear hair tonguing thumb harp
an electrocuted snooze frame
cutting cloth with rope
a dream of sliding the banister
in a torn down house
and breakfast on the cursed lawn
with the lawn-cursed apples
staring fog to a tree of walls.

To the top of the narcoleptic stack
bunions in painted hands
examining the deer path broadcast
in the battered lines of sole
cloud-reflected and dim of heart
revived by primacy of anger,
blossoming in coil,
pouted by the fat squash
of American human forms
waving bones at flickering disconnection
forking the air with their tongues
and watching it flow through bodies
the many wakeful masks
saucer-guided and fiending gladly for slippage
seeping with orbs and rooted sores
saddled with smiling goons
gone bitches and gleaming night grabber
suffering with grapes and crackers
moving with wigs and nippled tubs
surfing regret all hollowing whirlpool
on the way to the kingdom.

Dotted with antiseptic bulbs,
body-masks of cruel and twisted velvet,
gashed knees with pepper
and an empty cock-shaped mouth,
slim clouds of a descending plane
framing lips and green backgrounds
windows marked by electricity and salt
drums of rust on the charcoal's rest
palm lines climbing a concrete wall's cheek
monkey bar eyes in a curving suit
a face of clit and car crash humor
fuming at the steering oil
growing dark eyeglasses
from the stalk of a tender head
parroting cash machines
with the orgasmic sheen of real love
signing freckles with fire ink tendons
bitch schemes to get their blood repainted
the gliding of petroleum curtains
seated in the puncture wound
of all earth.

It's not a fading bloom
that strikes the bad bad
hillsides, prayer circles drunk
entangled in the sobs
that limb the bridges,
dozens parked in transparent shelf-tanks,
limbless volunteers keeping waterless offices lit,
high and hitting with expressive foam,
the death march of named images,
a ringway in the paint-struck perimeter
excreting a chain of demons,
a hallowed picnic impaled
on hellraiser's strings
and flung to the attic's gape
where the moon rolls sheets
the headstone flips
like a candy pellet
to crush your feet
and the far ground soils.

Chasm of unopened streets
hard blossoms cased in tiny stones
pursed clouds gleaming raw tit
lidded laundry hooking cuffs and laces
body-fictions of past days
with the toothpick tiny sidewalks
drawn into a fishbowl
and given a smack of snuffed fire
that has figured dawn.

A rag fetcher walking it face first
speed cones and rippling infinity
shine planks and the stretching metal of a tank's belly
rainbow forehead of a flying whale
a torn perfection of foil
revealing pink atmosphere
edges of a frayed room
nudging buds of twisted wire.

Framed numeral stations
and radiant railroad track images
teeming with petroleum daffodils,
pitching potato juice dance moves
to an empty black sky.

The sex-broken back
of rich blood let loose
on the underground,
the fury of taste
beckoned by disintegration,

a mask in curd of day
the diamond skin
of battery's acid blood,
the glad conniver of wheat germ,
eating salad in honey,
an egg charmer.

Mug's decorated farms of divided skin,
all eaten up by light and microbes,
staring pock marked glass
in a tunneled future.

Fissures steaming clay colors
find rooms inhabited
by walking file cabinets,
digitized top hats
and ancient carving knives.

Tapes of wind and shore side solitude
flicker around the congregated cut throats,
a pudding of electrodes,
lipstick and mascara crab cakes.

Topless veal frying architectural hands
to retrieve blood,
dry and gagging
in dyed smoke.

Narrow shorelines wind the habitat
grey concrete clusters, black plastic,
potted plants in ashes

white peanuts spill out on textbook rugs
long antelope hoses come out
of the walls, my body

discs of fire and firming eels
keep my rock steady, herded gaze
burns twisted into flower by fiber
canals brightly yielded
in the taken light.

Brows clipped and sharpened
focusing the blood glass of the eyes
apron ripped by the arms of
a female keeper, bronze servant
of the pumping rod,
an ocean in unsteady readiness,
a seamless paw,
strings greedy in cornered vastness,
the baker's back seductive as blank paper,
the pepper below
a cloth-belted waist
heat-fractured into honey,

raw-cut stems and disinfectant leather,
seething onions that set off
the squeezing and oozing wood,
hacked green and its pile
of root-butts and cracked
seed-bearing hearts,
all near a boil and volcanic rivulet,
pusher of rack and lamb,
mopper of hot decks
glued together by voiceless air,
the aching of a long and hollow bar
in the vacuum's hot wire.

The scar on my brow is scraped
from staring fiber optics
into broken gears,
my cabinets float around me
in a heavy flock,
the trapped light funnels
and pulls.

Long doors and evaporating corners
sneak around us like
hidden touches of make-up,
rugs pulling an antique floor,
the skylights blushing red
with high-up vehicles.

You are smooth and bulbous
in the folds of crouching linen.
Slimming crowds fork away
from each other
around your trick elbows.

Chimes on the cold breeze
thighs twitch on a moving walkway
towns lift off and hover over
chutes of sucked-out beam-up light harangues
make coat hangers and corners tick
tapped pens and money lenses
aisles and hammered squares
rolls and packed pills
a falling anvil to catapult
the jutting geography of many boxes
dust-stuck eyelashes on glass
signed spheres and stamped DNA
liquids kept in unsampled classes
pricked by the moon's cap
an empty elevator in which she remembers
fainting for sex at the wolf's tongue
and printing table blankets.

Platforms of walnut smoke
mice roving electric ridges
glass triangles watching
from half shadows
in the birdbath eyes
of flatbed beasts
the rubbed out dollars
of elbow scab teeth
climbing leaves to get near
helium-stacked branches
and stinkpalm the tongue of the hills
an armchair reptile
flinging belted scenes
around the tether-pole
in a day's link of silver chains.

POEMS OF A JANITOR

The rag foams on marble,
hands of oil search
transporting air,
caged flakes
zoom in glass meander,
baskets are green
with pink dye and
orange teeth's horizon,
ducks in plated rows
dunk beaky nostrils
latex eyes
on the werewolf finger,
banana skin forearms
of sideways ladies
slipping dark cash
to the stair mopper,
ink on the foul of his
tank-tread sneakers,
rays in ultraviolet
spanked formation,
brows and cheeks and braids
in the coin of suds,
printed toilets
roar and blank the walls,
scenes of a raking leg
thicken the incline compactor,
the cursive of dairy razors,
a hot water pen
for tampon baskets
and the poems
of a janitor.

Spelunking oars
tied to the strings
that found them,
needles scratching
the pine they fell from.
The witchcraft of many tears.

Nursing water tanks
and warrior wounds,
suspicious, gathering.
An ovoid sky pouring baskets
of goldenrod spears,
dilated lines, stung
and sprouting.

Wires of perception that
tug and make gnash.
Mailbox doors like a cold cervix.
Deracinated sun
that scorches all the borders.
Fiend declassifying his delicacy.
The twins of the warrior moon,
hacking stalactites.
Moving tables that
disclose the source,
the Neo-HooDoo heart.

Porous epigrams of wheat,
the face in the spoon stretches.
Grates of frozen flesh
channeling mortar stew.
Burned hallways soaring
past fertile rooms.
Heartbeats in the clenched hands
bouncing lights off water.

Outlet faces sucking tangled cords.
Hillsides running with broken milk bags
tree houses springing like catapults.
Cups like plastic tops
spinning on glass and vacant tables.
Stung buttocks and lashed calves
compacting brainless bodies.
Sacks of trash leaking golden blood.

Rings the blacksmith poked
with shrieking tongues.
Salty units displacing oiled wheels
with a treadmill of scalps and bullets.
Slender triggers gaining space
expanding galaxy walls.
File folders dripping blue heat,
red numbers and whitened
switches and wires.

Midnight sits at the tip
of an extended tongue,
she has a name there,
she waits like a church
staircase open,
a silk monster.

She organizes cabinets
with a wisp of air.
Belts and handles
float out of storage.
Headlines flicker across
her rouged brow.

Screaming thoughts navigate
the streamer-draped bulletins.
Umbilical cords cut by fish tank edges
paint the subway pink and brown
with layered numerals and letters.
The telephone pole is a grandfather clock.
The shocking energy reclines and coils.

Dawn doors and rain slopes
sky-ovals dropping tiny sap-filled wings
geometry of cut wood and cattails
blood plates and frozen ways
swamps pushing diagonally rooted flowers--
choke-hold of wave after wave
tickling a boat's motor--
imprints of finger-fur,
lines and their sprouting heads
full of snakes and soda

cool roller coaster wheels through
rings of tied-up gloves,
the interwoven dollar signs of dungarees,
asbestos closets leaking black light,
the sandy corners of drunk-slept rooms
spilling mirror fragments,
tangled dusty ropes
on the beer-fur of some giant's chest,
a knife kept in clinging paint
singing anchors to nested objects.

If among the clanging of tribes
I try to howl in harmony,
know that it is only a dance,
a straining after processions
that have left me over.

Platitudes rip up in the yielding air,
the strengths of the canal's carvers.
Hang-gliders exchange merciful texts
with no commands.
The grass surfs the ground.

Pinioned roots rear up.
Stones like teeth
wear long caresses
and move a light along.

A sky-island of cans and beets
gauze-packed carrots and foam crates
shoe-loops dangling monkey heads
and frog bodies

silk treadmills tugging sucked-out bones
salty wigs on the ship's wheel
dragging dentures of clay
across the seams of waxed wood

skulls of tin printed with clouds
lipstick nostrils staring gears
of a blade's circle
turning dusty sparks
to a planetary core.

Rain dagger and silent drift
napkin hearts shrinking plastic balls
into the eyes,
where they hum with broken air,
dangling spider threads
across a shielded forehead.

Pursed mouths printed on a clay wall,
fizzing arms with hollow veins,
a well of crayon saints
crawling ropes of steel
into a grey sun.

Whirlpools of green food dye
behind the ceiling fans,
clicking tongues in an empty room,
the rubber violins of a tied-up body
grinding grain into oxygen.

Pinned up by the foreskin,
clawing with crocodile paws,
bright face on the boundary,
puckered tools drooling severed signs,
fenced-in whirlwinds spurting jagged glass,
dirt as muscles growing vacant spasms,
paper bodies shredding antique walls,
tumbleweeds flinging razor'd teeth,
thorn-paths climbing painted tires,
leafy missiles combing through the air,
apartment tunnels zooming sewage meat,
flowers dipped in the light of clay sprouting pox,
eyes in piles riding rusty plows,
fevered skins in a flagpole's rind,
a curlicue of bronze drinking straws
from a fermented grave,
one knuckle-split shrinking time.

Slabs of cut earth
pyramid piled on a concave head
blanketed with fallen sun discs and dust
needles of pine and pomegranate seed
wood stacked on a chimney's mouth
torn money on the tongue's doorstep
space-ripples pouring down
the flanks of the trees
hot eyes in a broken thatch of thorns
slate shoes and a dented helmet
strapped together by wheeling brine
streaming roads dipping skies in black
the knife rides
a little trickle under.

A map around the body,
broken lines drinking light,
bars across the eyes
that pucker pretzel'd cubes,
drifts of powdered bones
swirling cursive feet,
sky chains and moon chains
and a funnel that speaks,
collarbones tied in pasty loops
around the lava neck,
cloth boxes dipping threads
in liquid hands,
arms of rubber miles
racing office dusk,
tape loops caught
on the throat's egg thorn,
a nibbling punk
in a coat of leaves,
with a fishnet windshield
and the warmth of a burning czar.

Pounding dusk and grassy soil
point to the god of the hills
slapping the roots of a small tree
with his belt, laughing at his own efforts,
the owl of refined exertion on his shoulders,
ready to hang blossoms on a thistling remainder,
to point up the sky in search of fiery and far
contortions clasping fateless fate,
driving furrows through the flank
of the mountain's stem
for a one-way climb,
a peak's pool of glue,
a dirty pocket,
lips and ephemeral foundation.

Embroidered walks tugging at radiant sights,
wood metal monuments teeming grass files,
leaves with penny-sized holes drifting riot's wind,
thumb-harps twanging the rings around searching fingers,
bags of piano strings perpetually landing on the stairtop,
and a weary hand slapped aside by a younger hand,
and the prolapsed tunnels linking continents with train-cities,
blinking out the stars scouring sockets to get them back clean,
standing in the light shower of skidded and land-strapped cars

with a face of the sight tongue,
retinas shot with the wine of past skies
and fainting beauties on organized rubble,
lilac stems in the ripped septum,
countenance primed by engine sauce
chutes of bubble chains
still tracing ocean courses
without electric books and rooted windows
a digital eel with cold plier nostrils
mailing his address to the gun-sighted sun
with a field stacked of animal ladies
and opioid hands released from trouble
a trunk of ladles and symponuity of persimmon,
a sheaf of bled-on spice,
a fractured seeing-stone,
sunglasses on rye toast
with a nodding scepter.

Spires of trash piles
shedding sacred paper
bars of glue in eternal teeth
macaroni of moving eyes
and rushing empty channels
tall neon tunnels
that sprinkle blue dust
mazes of shoelace
pulling fragrant hinges
the stripes of fallen beasts
a zig zag cacophony of wraps
ripped by boomerang gravity
stacks of pumped and flattened colors
lens dripping crushed tissue and flaming silk
craters cradling milk and fur hats
earth layers sag and pop
to blossom poison warts
a coat hanger pen
scribbling thigh-strong engines.

Prongs of daylight give to fists of furry semen
backseat glass shards pricking the radio
bags of water eat
twilight suckerfish come up
smacking against the running board
like a cluster of dried heads
and tongue onions
large trees parched in the net of sun
star fields coming over
in a sheeted glaze.

PORN

Animal Phyla
having transparent material by eight men,
a keen strewer of roses
softly extended

Foundation lyrics crumbled
in a pierced hallway
numerals painted over by a whirling sash
the dreamer forgetful of eyes
who would be their wanderer
ice cracking in his back brain
nuzzled by a table
and admitting a drowsy light;
inheritance accepted by degrees
and vomited with great regret

hair's bullet-cut,
curbs flickering freshly cut stone.

Empires of linoleum
highways of painted grass
steaming mouths of truck-backs
spinning chairs bumping cracked transparent walls
stacked burners smoking teeth and elbows
floors rising through a sanctuary of mud
my fellow servants and I carbonated
with eye-straws and teeth-straws and ear-cuffs
walking the cork of the walls,
the swimming floors,
the cracked and sightseeing
ceiling tiles.

And a budding tower of stoves
ramming televised oxygen
into sentient cement,
bagging corners
to take the whole, swishing
through a maze of horse tails
and fire-laden swamps
holding a bronzed receipt,
a miniature who bites tendons,
a chief who steals laughter from crones
in these porcelain halls.

A scene impaled on a thin arm
brown hills with blue and white backing
the spines and ribs of paths
wires ridden high with trembling seats
and slings flung from high trees
the skidding wheels of thoughtless foot pedals
stones turned by a squirrel skull
the fallen rot diagonal
and clouds thick as paint from the mouth
boat wide leaves fallen on a dim lake
chain link singing around my hidden form
notes' timber alive in my tin blood
the hardening of our shared earth
in me like eyes,
the brazen courtship of a killing shroud
scattered with open plastics
a boxed-up wound
simmering saints in jello.

Octagon eyes
sucking an interlaced fern mask
the high boroughs maimed
and the country sets reeling,
broken porches see-sawing
cocktails into the mouths
of my unknowing antagonists,
bright clouds of thought-fuck
around his and his and his aching head,
and too much of him in the dish department
smashing a clean car battery
into a dirty mirror,
and much more of him
in the corner suds
ducking his own whip
and laughing.

An empty carton on couches
headcase laced with rubbing
alcohol and kaleidoscopic laundry
the spinning wheel of paint
sending droplet organs
through a phantom

tiger bodies in the pulsing eyebrows
thirsty background of bloodshot veined
sleepless religiosity
beams with forked hands
pushing paper towel ceilings
menus of whipped flesh
bright looks from a winking backside
the fruition of regurgitated children
stabbing barbecue sticks
through a poison frog belly
a vacant sign dripping alphabet soup
and the popped sight
of a dumpster rainbow

the oily reflection walks,
puts on gloves
and is a machine healer.

The big godlike head has
nine wigs and three gears
napkin boxes in floating rows
long cords dragging like dismembered snakes
shining discs on legs
spike dented beaches of aluminum
the knots of mid-spine tassels
smeared open by burning light and lotion's fabric
plows descending in oil
from interlocking mountains
feet un-suctioned from drinking fountain rivers
the blade of clean eyes
like a vaccine stain.

Peeled down to the raw slime of man
with the egg's teeth on me,
with bridges open to me
long trees helicoptered by heartbeats
tuned to a toasted timer
with long hair wires
with cinnamon baptized in sesame oil,
sun's behind a pan stuck to the window
gardens are teeming basil and asparagus arms,
dull wood shrunken is shined wood,
vines in the blood are working ceilings,
levels of cracked trash concrete light
working dens behind them.

The hum goes out over a wide frozen lake
gathering stray and stripped wings
in a net patched with pins
and coiled hair
bottles cooling in the thin patch
fallen on stone edges
ice on glass and sky on skull
the cracking container of a thousand frames
rough doorways of wooden fur
scrubbed and sanded by vertabrae
in rope fingers and racing hands
hillsides sliding through open ribs
the mouth a smashed mailbox
where seeds and twilight alphabets
go shivering

like beads of unseen fire
driving this brick continent
into the sky's graph
with a gear shifting diamond stalactite
the glass eye broken under lid,
gliding bulbs and wet shards.

Rails on the branch read by hands
knob slipping from trunk
with green fang's
bud of forked tongue
the sky's brown tarp
pulled over bright blue knives
dripping polished claws
silt lit by mica fingers
belts of depressurized leather
hinges of mud
out to the tip of outlook
where the roads of language
round out their circuits
the center of a spoken leaf
sweating razors and glue cylinders
wrapped-up maggots in layered tape
little crests of bark
stuck like a stopped wave
sets of parked food
weeping carbonated streams.

Suds run on the dome's long curve
flakes melting angles in bristle mouths
trains are segmented stems
uprooted and bouquet'd leaking oil
into the flute of water
roots violating cement frosting
between the bricks of name
the landscape of analytic skin
running to a spear tip's pen
jabbing layers of cut-out earth
peeling dirt from empty basements
sod from stringed mouths
clump grass from
a button pressed eye.

Piano hands clamped to a fridge
dancer's legs on a spit
plate's rim gilded with ascending stripes
highways on bridges of pasta
shifting like eels in bloody transit
chopped-off crops holding stacked garages
the limbs of untangling things
carving faces from deep glass.

A storm that went building mansions
has returned in snow.
Spiral blades coughing heat
in black smoke.
Branches spreading through
the second floor.
Leather chairs high beaming graphs
the creases and seams
of bodies migrating
through petroleum waves.
High ornaments nailed up
to a bone cast in bricks
of frosted meat
by aging powerlines
the socket of all-seeing cartilege
sparkling with transparent blood.


Desks with high headboards
sprayed with molasses of tongue dust
nostril frost heaves
wincing with received arrows.
Bunk beds pouring like ghostly dominoes
from soundless windows.
Bleached pillowcases
sending a facsimile breath
to the roof of a shovel's mouth.

The high triangular office
caressed by lights,
inks of red blue and black
running in miles of transparent wires
to a hand's grip of jackhammer quills,
nine tails of broken bulbs,
a hillside collecting boots and celery stubs,
voices booming in caverns of mud,
acres of steam-rolled gloves,
the melted print of a day's work
spent carving molecules.

Long rings of disintegrated paper
going oval and figure eight
feet of oil and brow of encrusted stone
nucleic acid linked to a farmer's torch
the kernel's purple stirring under a yellow cap
pinched white, the drip's lid of vibratory particles
kissing the butts of sunken blades.

Cracked ridges
on the edge of the town's mouth
doors in snow
unfolding painted arrows
descending heels in canned space
microwave webs on a frying light
long mop trails painted water on marble glaze,
a whirlpool of dusted-off sparks,
strings and granules
filed in the seams of a spinning bucket
foam ceiling's electric drain
long crop rows of knee-high tables
paths whipping to smear windows
hot hoof-stains to train glass
the library's railroad
blinking by the mice of hands.

Slashing of town names town places
bashing a brick hole through
wipers on the dragonfly
scheming tender eyeing looking
with cultivated trashiness
at the trash gatherers.

Hearing the tank splash
under the stereo
the whipping of detached antennas.

The fronds erasing tribal words
generic words and words of forged humanity
tar paint trailing off into grass
religious words quarters of dollars
that are dead.

Slashing town names town places
seeing the outskirts through a fence
of goggled steel.

And breaking down into tears
at the designated area,
small shore of an eggy pond.

Nests dropping from their undergrowth
like buzzing eels.

Headphones catching the rasp
of the forest's woods
from an interstate wire.

Fingers of water from spilled flowers
on the ancient desk.

Trees rolling whole
as spokes in wheels,
coffee in the goblin's throat,
the dream of being the one
unclouded visionary, rescuer of all
worthy worlds, a mopper,
watcher of gears
hidden to task after task
pisser of motion-lit backwoods
caught rolling the red dice
into a wind tunnel
bellowing steel and wood
into tubing and pipes and wire.

Fourteen voices from
a visage ten decades wide.
Candles on the birdbath skull,
the rounded shoulder of a peacock hatchet
a flying heel,
a string of winged daggers,
masks of wool and dumb weather
whip-poor-will graces in the hummingbird shelves
holes in the prized paper
shitting its old thoughts
hymns to the rattled heart a hundred forty years
of wood and tablature
restored to grass,
the mountains leering.

We dreamed of runaways in emperor positions
slashing funds of juice
hand-patterns wielding glow sticks in empty air,
the hallowed mouths quacking.

Early hours with money and bright intoxication
in the evening dew
hunting lost equipment in the cone rain of fertile woods
clouds attached to phone towers like a flapping flag
a rainbow strangeness over the meat-stunned harbor
nets under glass of sucked-out
tunnels of water
eating an aphid smile.

Particle windows
flickering over a high bulb tower
carpet paths humming through deep-cut gardens
tracking lights around eyes in the land
brambles cleared from the silky flank,
the downy cartridge of smoke,
the dull wet capacity of the enemy.

Shingles raining on berries
jangling the frost on dark green leaves
pounding blue-veined fists
while the red sky quakes.

Black doves and banana peels
on the altar of a park fountain
an octopus man thumbing pennies
sheer and gambling spine-blades with trays
the pitter pat of rain attracted
sideways with a magnet iron.

Slammed up against the gelatin of the crowd
leaking anima
agony of the bent head
suffering solitude
in a row of prepared rivers.

Slain doorsmen gleaming
in a slurry film
on long marble
entrance room floors
before me
clutching a bell,
a dog's tail,
a whimper.

Moved into the sovereign area
of not giving a fuck.

Flinging power knee pads
bitch splittails on my porcelain finger
giving their intestinal tracts up to sperm.

And the sacred avenue lit
behind it all,
merrily winking and being
parked, arms of science
by music, tabletop
made bare for performance layers
the tape run out
in a crop scythed by
torn dresses.

Stamped in silver rain
where the brown edges are hanging on,
sidewalks longer than roads
towering above the trees.

Hulks of brick and wounded wood
glass entrances up against pink flesh.

Secretaries of photosynthetic shade
stuffing their mouths with big leaves
of inky daylight.

Old ships and bridges in dried-out suds
the pumping hearts of mouths in cliff-side plaques
tormented by water.

Fronds tracing the window
crack their roots.
Garden beds simmer and
come up like blocks.
Steaming walls of soil
blinking screens.
Backyards on a grid of sticks
rising like a cage from the earth.
Strips of cloudy vapor
sculpting frozen hands.
Yellow wax on the wounds
of a far-seeing face.

Potted lives
crawling their boundaries
like space-fed vines.
Sunglasses swallowing paint
and pouring concrete.
Stems in the orifice of the earth
making the sun wink
on a long-handled spoon.
Boiling skins and guts
writing cursive
on a leaning wall.

Apartment train cars
windows crammed with profiles and limbs
slinky necks and rattling knees
tracks pouring through town after town
never settling a city
in the diamond winking tar

flying linked through banks of snow
swatted by flying planet hands
mists of soaked sunlight and arching bones
long wooden shine on the surging floor
pink engines under the sink with green gloves
and the tangled hoses of transcended bodies

rent paid with blades and bullets
glued together in a looming island
floating overhead with its shadow tracking
desert rails and the milk of pricked cactuses
the script of trembling vinyl arms
apartment train cars

Charred banks of being,
ribs in the soil springing keys
harps with blueberry strings
long paths winking with holes and water
stalk shooting out of the ground
with green and pink buds
offering spikes of violent yellow flowers
to hands that are many and mine,
from swerves in air like water
and tender hooks snaking on flying wheels,
countenances in rock and barking miles
stuck to the life of wood and shingled tar
running electric wires to a sweet snatch
to be buried in sparks
and waffle mattresses,
wire hair.

Fried nocturnes into the deep night I don't find her
clothes flung on barbed wire to climb naked I don't find her
I push baths I move showered brushes
and bins of literate dust I'm getting tired of looking for her

moon syrup and salt flakes of banished skin
tarnished heels that map tables with scant wheat
spread legs and spread time and spread grin
the face of which is covering the earth in her reflections
where I am hiding in a leaf's tic
in a storm fallen through the basin of a park fountain
a bomb rusting through the walls of this antique cherry

plowing rings of sand the ripples of a thoughtful face
to a blade fresh from sharpening wheels
tapped like a tomb, like a mailbox
covering time for the wrong organ
circling a driveway with non-driveway tires
and pondering crushed soil with a hand of leather
on all the transparencies rolled down
blood dimming and dawning to be interred

through the spiral heart and the nexus gateway
where in our many we are one and not-one
sphincter and pressing orb
fluid brains and basking bodies
torn from the arc, become the arc
fledgling lips waxed in historical countenance
and rattled by the lack of it
bitches need like water.

Meat planks set up
in a neat array.
Beaming eyes
that have no focus.
Horizons vast
as these little hands.
Seaward looks
that return to shore
with a different squint.
Weeds over the eyes
of their captives.
Metal and wood
spanking glass.
Showers of sparks
that never land.
Hallways with infinite
supply of more hallways.
Slithering cords hugging
cropped mountain sides
and sifting rain.
Spines crushed through faces
by bulletproof canoes.
Tray after tray with feelings
by compartment served,
and no face responsive
and no body calling
over these vacant tables
where the breezes and lights
die so beautifully down,
and the vats of humming water
don't sign my name.

Wreaths of old neighborhoods
tangled with lit bulbs and dangling swingsets
mustache over the eyes
bright worlds in the dusk of thicket shade
seesaws on the sail's mast
a ship of pipes and pipe cleaners
airport paths stumbling through the body
key chains glinting in black mud
rocks winding higher in the hills
where their high walls tilt
to the ascension of shrooms and brown rabbits
wide rocks running with water
from broken moss and dripping caves
tape players built in to a red clay wall
blasting fog and pine needles
through the funnel of a team of bodies
a ditch of yellow roses
reflected in the plan of their eyes
the grid shanked by thorns before blossoms
ribbons at the bottom touchless tied
bells winking like the end of a computer's day.

Wrens ripped
from the surface of the earth
tar and partitioned benches
seaside eating castoff bread
my friend in drugs is scratching hard
nibbling the corner's edge of eternity,
with his grimace flashing insight
shorelines wrapped like ropes
around his throat and crying foul
at concrete walls bolts of lightning
repainted in the dragon's funhouse mouth
the exit through an ice cube
nests set on epoxy blobs
the ceiling of a popped world
there my virgin first car
wears a wig of leaves
brown as the ground of being
cones delicately darkening
bright lights bashed open
I'm a curling tongue on my knees
on the hearth she's breathing
through the tilt of a straw hat
stripped heels, ass pillows
and the throng of me channeling she
to the stuck garden of no shadowed moon
on beards of sparkling terra
skin twitching to shed antique
attitudes and the blues of the arches
that set us on world after world
I'm a napkin sun
she's a fog winking its way into silk
headwrap & mouth
on my parchment foreheard
my script determined she kisses.

Yards on each sprout
families playing without ground
in the steam familiar;
vines on aftermath screens
climbing and climbing cans
stacks and labels and grenades of beer
suspicious boss eyes
under the dome of my thought,
always some fuckin boss eyes
someday I'll snuff 'em out
and firecracker away
some dim morning sun's calling

yards on each sprout
a whole yard to each
yeasty blossom.

Particle fractoids
mussing giant follicles
plugged rain
parenthetically falling
the ledges catching
remains of the moon
lips tracking a picnic spill
and a jar of dark jewels

yards on each sprout
far and wide haircuts of bronze
and ebony glaze
shelves of bodies that will not fly
and many who'll pounce
skyward with no calling
unraveled under the clown orbit
of the called, boy following a bowling ball.

ANAL

The maw picks, and the thistle strikes
dawn is a cracked keg in the ringing of a grey living room
swaying canvas of roses and pig drawings
wire stem hedges and floating concrete shards
a deep armchair and a flask friend from a friend
furies in the bathtub and the tender rings explored
that had always been holding visions captive.

Under the eagle of light,
the mirror claws.
Gliding over its eyes,
the fire of distance closing.

The penciller crouched
on a calm blade of chair,
facing the expanse
with walls and doorways
up his sleeve, raining plaster.

Turning to the gasp of wings,
a blue shade brought to a point
of chalk made rubber,
a red line under a see-through mouth,

and a yellow line
under these winter months
on a whipped bed
where a pile of mated coats
opens cufflink doors.

Boundless terra
folded in the paths of deer candy
with a car key and a discarded shinguard,
love divided and hacked further
by spartan needs
swaggering dispatch of raw labels
grinding a slough for marbles;
marked space deep
outside earth's atmosphere,
yet with a flag on a long spear,
a volcano wreck in glass partitions,
a long but vacant gaze
searching the shells for tongues
and the towers for streaming furs
whipped aristocratic buttocks
and the smell of blood steam,
song script latched
in arabesque pen
around the dark ribs
of the water tank heart.

The ledge pours
green water and uneven furniture,
branches to break on
above webbed rocks,
bent birches and seedlings that stab,
blood from the lowest dip in the pool,
the crackle of a speaking ear.

Moss parts on the rock,
the stone clit is a prism
the sun gets stuck in,
to be evening, to rip liquid,
blow vine through hosiery,
ruffle the rags
on a peak encampment,
and circle the irregular dome
to drip sap from helicopter blades
into rivulet trays.

The bright electricity
of punctured rooms,
blades of delayed bodies
pushing air in parallelogram cubes,
setting a pointed star
of threshing floors,
the summit's flaking skin
a lidless eye pressed to red mica
in the hinge between worlds.

A platform of wrath from undersea,
the spilling claws and high-piled body shells,
lips stained together on a crying rock,
quartz mashed in granite eyes riding a flagpole
with no rope, on the prison shore
blooming with hyacinth chains,
long planks of men's faces and imaginary bars
gathered into a pile burned
down to an arm-breaking
paperweight.

Scales on the sky that have dragged
their dots and lines over the cum-stuck sand
to be draped in limousine gardens
where the guests lie stacked in uniforms,
greeting the under sky,
the stone's lid, the writing hammer
and the long sharp leaves of a shadow
without permission.

Blood-thick fingers stirring
in an upside-down glass.
Heavy heads breaking ornate necks.
Corridors that the stomach knows
in their numbered depth.

Sinkholes of rainbow gasoline
giving way to ink hearts,
a treeline sprinkled
with bottle caps and eyelashes,
the water punched and smoked
re-poured and poisoned
ultimately flowing over.

The black Madonnas among images of grace,
tying the ship to a whale heart
trigger in the clouds,
faces of grim beatitude channeling rain
and happy with the sun,
the ant hill salted with guns,
my twin mamas.

Stumped at the podium,
the drag line, the soup kitchen,
I wandered looking for my name.
I found it in burnt metal
at the back of a grocery store.
I propped it up on favorite icicles.
It fucked around with a readership.

Powdered memory, the king of a bucket of leaves.
Worshiped in refractory back circuits.
The prey of certain seeking conduits.
An armed looker making armed confessions,
the strength of his station
a portable rift that goes fishing.

Furs and fiery dosed coffee,
stacked against the thousand walls'
cartons of empty breakfast.
Taking another name,
with a bid-hand into the air,
I'll have that one, it's mine,
I will sear its framework
into these many minds.

Sludge and fist
and the joy of mercury
a ton factory for hollow brains
the holiness of slain dragons
consciousness captive to the host
lost in his loves and smash-ups
having out-run his mirror and remained

I will do away with this fossil nutbag
delicately for bronze-projected millennia
while he eats my cake helmet
and wraps my feet in seaweed
from his wet mineral drawer
pulling tags and salespeople aside
to make way to my heart

with a stretched letter of zero
a corked anatomy plug sheet
a monstrous cash flow involvement
hewing to the national murder
of the weak and hysterical
because their punishment
suits their central casting
and what central casting has selected
let nobody separate from destiny
let nobody unravel what destiny has afforded
let nobody ask and then what

Black frame variations
from within white flowers,
moving like gray ghosts,
my two mule binoculars
pick up the first flags of winter
only a few feet above
with a rush of sound,
a flock of nearly two hundred
signaling the cold thrushes to come.

Banks of majestic cottonwoods stand dressed like golden spires among the evergreens;
caps of snow timber and brush thickets resound with bird song;
stuffing themselves with berries to the point of saskatoon brush,
feeding on the dry bohemian waxwings
through the blood-red patch of eggs and fledglings done
craft and care taken in their building of a canyon to go
other of the tribe of the world.

Decorating the face with color, ripening the grass and splashing the leaves of the
mythical land: of Eden, California, an island
peopled by a swarthy, robust, passionate race of
women living manless chivalry and derring-do,
the past is also lovingly maintained.  The state is golden yet.

Among them all, only the rough timberline
on the mountains, the September larches stand
the first flocks of migrating sooty-gray coots showing up on the bigger lakes
with their sharp ivory-white beaks and beating

From nesting splitting the wind their way with short wing strokes
in diving they are element, graceful and astonishing--a joy of grace and power

For they are the biggest of all deer and move pure
blood stirring with the first
and small songbirds already gone.

High winding violin strings pluck pine
over the theater's web
dashing backwards on rubber screens
tying pigs' tails to an unfettered gate
a kaleidoscopic sock
dripping out of exhaust pipe
bent paths in skirts of washed-up gloves
tires molding land to a mound
of blood salamanders
tiny hooked spines and detached tails
the question mark of orange flesh
clinging to broken bark,
the diseased motor
of a dreaming tree.

With a light not my own
I pillaged my scarecrows,
they stood in a yielding rain.

Terrible glory of spent hours
hitting the wind, some heat
on the back of that beast's neck,
there he goes.

Chasing days over the cliff's lip
like grains of salt.

Along the ground
in a g-string
and feathered hood,
first body from
the core of the world,
making the sun and moon
see.

Criss crossed pines
on the fuming ground,
borders rubbing together
earth's gash clenching
wheels of rubber.

And the wayward path
loaded with golf balls,
pocked orbs stomped
under the root's emptiness
at every step.

A cold gun fired
inside the reaches,
tugged at by the webbing
of the mind,
trying to find the right
moment to erode,
the proper rift between waves
that draw deep
to lie down in.

Stone slab fallen on
what occurred to the heart,
to memory.

The circle's frozen water
and a bench surrounded by
no other benches
where he can sit with a sandwich
and wait,
for it to happen.

Embroidery of webbed and silken days
catching fire with the lust of one look.
Gridworks of little deliberate rivers laid out
for desire to crawl over
on hands and knees.

Airport Decembers where the phones
dangle like octopus.

A skate of fire's blade
over tumbling ice,
split trees nudging
through parted hair,
fern cliffs mushrooming
lichen'd lips, headboards
of rice paper breeze
fluttering over grass
mattresses, eels flickering
figure eights in mid air
with bodies of multiplied
eyeball, gravestones tapped
under the snow between
black piano keys,
mouth-searing scents
sketching notes
on the torn forest's
orchestra, a spring's cleft
spurting latex gloves,
a woman of water
holding shape in sunrise basins
where the lunar tug is lashed
to a leaning mast, the sword
of a fresh satellite
teeming with gnats of lightspeed
and gaining gods.

I am the hand of death
in a fringe of lace.
The tar mouth bubbling wheat
from a core of soap.
Icicles of bone's blood
shooting droplet hearts.
Muffs of steel
scratching eager arms.
Yards of mice in rows
crawling into a metallic light.
Years in rubber-wrapped parchment
aching for the lines of a studying palm.
Owl eyes in retreat
from an owl body.
Star pebbles eating
through the bucket sides.
And a foppish haircut
crawling stone and yeast
to drape what dreams regret.

Quill-tongue, rippling oil,
gripped and firing gel,
a withering depth without air,
forked into the orb,
ledgers on file from dust rings,
heaps that trickle dust and rubber,
curtains cloaking dead emanations,
stilted houses shaking like teeth,
gems in fertile and gleaming coat,
milk feeding powdered bristles
in a fighting glove.

A choked rainbow, a chipped glass,
a sink arm, a deep brown drain,
a path through marble floors,
a doorway's incubus, a glass wing,
the bramble heart in plastic rags,
cracked bead of a torn wooden eye,
post leaning on a sunken sword,
rib's necklace flung through lungs
riding blood's corners, a flecked watt,
an excreting light, a hallway's flesh,
the mailbox heat, bumped
shadow of a paper bird,
acrylics in knuckle creases
pricking cells for milk.

Big drum belly
long wet leaves

lit sand on high scaffolding floors
trembling poles and wreck

a shadow collapsing on glazed wheat
grasses melted and torn combed alive with attacking light
hand tissue hammocks and swaying cat tails

claws pawing the flank
of the blanked-out porch.

Longs roads matching rivers through the broken snow
turpentine hands to pick off the clenching leeches
sandals on the hands that slap asses and paint-marked trees
nest in the hair that her tears dried
little blue eggs cracking
to dribble light on the hairline
a cavern in the bent path
by the root-torn soil
sun-blood rivulets in a deep and swerving trunk
fallen to break lichens on sturdy rock
dusted by popped mushrooms
and the whittled beaks
of featherless birds.

You strummed my armchair
and told me that I was love,
took diamond dirt from claws
and made cookies,

pans with patterned octaves
showing heat in rings
to read a glass ceiling
and rain bulbs of grape light

your haircut on fire with grease
the indoor dew of early morning haze
and the neighborhoods
shocked through with purple light
and blinking crooked

your eyes on a heap of ten men
pouring through your window way
and knocked back by a voice-like door
the half-rotten mouth
snatching baritone's rusty perfection

from the strung-out air
together with coin-tossed glasses.

GREG

My brother, your works are all around me,
your name is alive in my house,
your kitchen dancing is partner
to my kitchen dancing,
your chair I inhabited sits
in the longest empty room with nobody smoking
and I live in your outline lagging
and I ride in your words of laughter
as I soar to greet you where your music is playing,
and you have your vitamins and your vegetables
your drink and your mat of paint dishes,
your jugs of substance gleaming
and your walls broadcasting a breast stroke,
footrest of finger-crumbled tobacco
and charcoal pastel.

Hungering for the vortex,
shoe tangled in a drift of honeycomb,
the half-melted throbbing
of a parked car.

Ice poles swarming with faces
the heat of cold's touch
protected in wax.

Bearded eyes lick
the crack in the windshield
puppeteering a lunchbox.
Canine claws fly off
the rounded fur
and wag tongues
in a traffic wall.

Hand breaking the antenna's root,
the animated mandate of heaven,
searching the black frost
and battered lid of the lion

Stripe-cleaned teeth
foam red carpet robe of exhaust
mirror of a numbered room
like a knife in an oven.

Tone perfect death
light on sauce
light breaking over the poles
tossed salad in overheated Eden
tasted the stereo and its voice
the walls and closets and alleys
in wood and cotton behind it
in computer legacy and hollow staircases
the lost animal of my infant work
batting its coiled eyelashes
on broken paper.

World wrapped in baggie clear plastic
waterfalls that all have tags
spouts spouting without flavor
and without meaning
runs that burn through fur
through homes of wood and tar
feathery holes of questionable light
meat missiles in the emptiness of man
destroying lands in a boomerang orbit.

Mystery of empty panels
the onlooker leaving painted days
to mark his step on a cliffside door
fronds of mercurial beard
sifting the window way
where he leans out over a milk can;

films of butt
playing under the eaves
blip within the wasp nest
dripping electrical fangs
meat face in a lunar cage.

Bright banks mushing his dark sword
the monument benches where he slept
and dead cars casting their last battery
all on a whim of his
biographies collapsing and rising
like tin wheat.

Lamblike roads
trim to the circuitry of trees
pacing the spring's cut
and arrangements of fallen rock
boughs to guard bicycle paths
and chain link arches
thorns in a foot-thick jacket
teeth wrenched by the stems of leaves
and wiping veins against the soft star;
through machete clouds
the recumbent ink
blinks to despoil the ripe curb
of the stopsign landscape.

Of the halt hands by hot hands grasped
ferreting over a flood of green bulbs,
bellowing under bridges
to dynamite a microphone cord
through the center of the earth
dry funk of the crunch bark falling open
the backs of beetles' dust,
crawling rings in a strip of glade.

Her mouth and scorching husk
brought me to the oval
slabbing me on beds
to poke high in the screams
too thick for the ceiling fan

make the egg squeak
springs scratch a graffiti floor
sprite's homing signal, nesting on the highway
stripes that force the air
where his hot rod swerves lipstick wheels
and happens to oil.

Ashen hand in ashen hand
paths on paths on paths on paths
vine-led swing sets and beer and long rocks
washed by lakes that never come up too far
to wade in and taste the naked apocalypse without wincing
the touch of the cold rim's water
a layer away

the cracks in the copper opaque
files of mica and fool's gold
split by a knife of silver
faint organism on wheels
staring out of an octopus tree
with a yarn-bundled heart
a bank account drained in the umbilical belly
hot lips to please the darkening picnic.

I built my antler
on a sledge of salt and ash,
watching it slide
into the hand-tray's air port,
watching it take off with and without me
over swingsets and boom boxes,
fished with in transcendent crannies
laced with milk white mice
expecting and expecting
the rim's planetary solvent to melt off,
like a wet glove,
like a fine mask,
like a funnel-full.

This potency pouring out on you
is the force of life squared,
carved to the arrowhead on your shoulders,
splitting fibers of life to their nest core,
pennies flat to thumbs
from the glued fountain.

On the mountain's long side
grey rock spreading like shadow,
in the voice of falling leaves
a footprint with a long shelf life,
tread of lunar light
reflected in bark and leather.

Dismembered highways
flashing flower stalks
whirlpool hands
crumbling whittled tar.

Cones on high alcoves
dripping chlorinated light.
Spaces where the heart
has no more body.

A fire in an upside down fountain.
Stairwells jutting out of empty land
damp cloth against fading sight
hot wings in a bed of
orange and yellow vapors of form.

Long limbs moving in liquid transparency
over the cake crushed
of rolled-up dusk
in a handbag
or kissing on a bent bridge
to brush her face off.

Plucked by a shivering cable
he leans on the pop of the voice
and smooths it back
without a drink.

Belonging to the desert
embroidered with the silk
of her gone ways.

Earth's mysterious twin
a man plants his seed until he is something of a gamble
perhaps an accident of history perhaps in methods of water
a cow leaning against a big government photographer
field after brown field, just black, black dirt in Union

Clubs on rabbit hunt mountain streams
dust masks listening to the end of the world
hollow leaves reap to eat the crucible

in the times between storms,
when the skies cleared and the winds
abated, the farmers and townspeople tried

there was just everyplace
after the big wind had gone.

Long stick-strewn paths
wheels broke and fertile soaring
wet pillars out of the earth
archways of fire and deathliness
walked firmly under
and I am the spirit that roves
over all these streets
documenting and guarding
tracks of time tampered with
a branch that's testing roots
a shadow rife with seeds and words
an empty cabinet waiting open
in streaks of see-through wall
and wailing water.

Halogen bulbs and busy scrubbers
foam hallways and slight auditoriums
opening from the belly a vast wing
rib cage airplane hangar
tongue bulbous, reeking white paint
the vending machine cast of a broken knee
coins speckling his spilt buddies.

The curving forms of emptiness
have flattened out.
High windows soak in the black night.
Nobody sings to the unsupported air.
I am holding a jock strap stuffed with milk
carefully to guard its fountain drain.
Chairs and tables spread their legs
in each other's crossfire.
Pianos muffled at the end forks
of lengthening halls.
Keys that clang the backs of wrists
and do not deposit the spine.

I am charging through the careful wreck
of a blanked-out library,
peeling a live receiver
from the buttons that nudge my spirit
on a declining wall.
And the cloudburst of glittered feathers
coming from a shot-out loudspeaker
is just for me.

The ones who marked me hate me,
their forms are tangling the fence
I've made on a high border,
foot soles slapping long subway steps,
eyes inked into a cracked foundation,
hat bands feathered low on their understanding kites,
scars laid out in plaster that have mapped their way,
back tattoos that replace a sky's chunk of spine
hook deep in the gelatin that is left
and the celestial weave.

Plastic bullets and glue pistols stored within the genetic cell
lights coming across the pasture of frost-shattered rock
anchored to a limy cup, flashing gold and silver like animals
the magic realm shelf covered with green stream beds
giant clams and water millions
a great pollen blown series to the female sperm
the equatorial convergence with rushing torrents
a sudden pour that roar down the parched canyons
bowl worn rocks and cracked deserts are not complete
cement lake flooring dims the sun; these are the great
edges of its hardness