Cream curve of a melted street
bubbling up the gradual hill
trees popping like roman candles
until the open web is an inlet against the sky
pouring the praise of hands
out to bloodlessness
the grainy sill of a ship's window
the shards of little bodies
stabbing at feet on a treadmill
forks of A-frame houses upside down
shingles bleeding sand.

The cursive of a long knife
on the back of an empty shelf.

Transparent beast of burden
gripping the chain link wall
stacks of ink at your rib sides
plates turning and gleaming
the card table and electric set
wheels inside the punched holes of the speakers
porch sidecars and fingers of cut squash
familiar ladies and strange flashes of mercury
the bar with its light bashed wood
its gambles that come apart in the air
and its sinking vertebrae
brushing hair and lips aside the volcanic heart
fine animal or decaying substance
hatching another mind scheme
in the available mirror
watching the notation on scrambled rock
scatter straws to the expected dawn.

Rain on a maze of tubes
each square morsel reflecting
a carbon window, an ant's
pelvic bargain,
the thorax divided
in playing segments,
bones on the roof
in web forms tickling girders,
pipes on long beams
trickling their heresies into motion
the interlocking daylight,
water's ribbon on sheets of bronze
the embroidered carcass
an anchor chiseling depths
the tar's surface brimming with omega
salt vein cooking
the magnitude of the heat within
churning vegetable reptile
disguising guts
bringing a rat's tail to the table
with their antique storm
a vine spent in the lost hen's hay.

Mucus rolls in my head
like a silver lake
overflowing to the sea
brains fall into the bright
petroleum of a trash can.

Lamps riding the ridge of the brow
beaten by a current that pours out
in a glory of hair.

Sprawl of cracked hinges
and barking fish
stars clawing at the helmet's curve
the tongue of a continent
trailing off into water
submerged by the print
of a captured hand.

Saw blade of teeth
the birthday candles
of a reaching skull.

The melting of a prisoner
whose blood runs into all the cracks
a sky map pulling keys and twine
from a grundle of palm trees
drifting raft
of the paper's scream.

Rivers in my hands
still flowing I am somewhat grateful
to the oblivion of things,
clouds atop goldenrod
puking puffs of white light
prow's knife in the soil of summer
an erected madman
slapping his face with sandals
on the steaming shore.

Nuts and bolts holding
red painted bodies
long hallways through
pulse of trees drinking
all the names of the sun
a yellow leaf on each eye
a seedpod's violet taper
touching buttons on the raw
embankment.

Nullscape to scrolls of creed
rolling down the hood of a parked car
armor's pentagram of pink clouds
straddling the crooked letter.

Paint lines on the spines
of a heaving earth,
an arrowhead shape of cracked tar
around a sky-fought fallen body.

Bright foliage of branches
wagging over the torn void.

Disorder of roads disguised by a grid
blood oozing from rocks and soil
granules tapped by tiny saws
filling up wood with computers
each cell in a cool blue light
wires creeping lungs
shadows tortured by the reaching hand
tanks near pissed on leaves
clicking rust teeth
to the sprayed-on sky
limb spidering out from the stabbed heart
roots foaming in the deep woods
mud shingles on fading eyes
all the puddles gathered together
at the frozen cornerstone
speaking of dust and retold actions
the movements of dead men
on a strand of hair.

Above in the salted courtyard
or down by the anchor
where anger pleases me,
docks go out to the clouds
in a soft flowing memory,
some walkway of what
I can never understand,
and I am gone
walking
without the feet
I never got to know.

Seats in an orange leather octagon
around me, one wide window
stars hitting like moths
a different sky.

Fired through the dark material
shoulders brushed by a fiery antler,
face beaming on the surface of the sun
a link that comes to greet my tail
a field of stones purring and chalking.

Birds on a steaming board
skiers and airplanes
riding the current
of a single grain;
rumpled towers
spouting painted oil
in puddles of grass boats
each oar and porthole
a severed tongue
specks of sand
on gelatin moving,
starfish springing
from the pores
of a merman's shaven face.

Limitless broadcasts
of rice on copper
the cry of a dumpster song
from these chimneys of clay.

Cracked plaster faces
sliding into the silent pine canyon
lugging the smooth bodies
of half-digested rocks
nets of gold cloth and alien signals
chipping at the sound of water
strapped shoulders, minds emptied of all heat
striding into lava
high boots and whalebone masks
plastic adding buttock to buttocks
lined eyes screaming animal possession
the hilarity of tin leaves
knifing the background
curling up on roots
flicking an ancient tongue
slapping against a pale sky
beams and radiator heat
the lightning bolt
in a cuboid helmet
talking backward to himself.

A slab of landscape
reflecting on her chest,
the olive skinned girl
moving among silver cups
tilts my nostrils
with the fingers of her eyes
pulls the blanket from my mind
and lowers me into a bucket
separate from the sea
steaming.

Souls flung forth in little graphic packages
stacked against walls with bright spines
talking pipes and bronze titles
raining down from an empty place
above a beautiful skull.

Rivulets of melted paint
in the palm of a dancer's hand.
Stab wounds leading to the river.
Bricks in a cab of photosynthetic light
rolling down a San Francisco hill.
Park benches for bones and eyes.
Birds tracing our wheat gestures.

Many songs on the same wire
a spear and an egg
in an empty room.

Transparent sheets
on the flame of nudity
a war of resemblances
stirring the deep milk
of real existence,
water distilled into stone
bodies speaking for decades
toast and faces in counter tops
slippery dawn on shadowed glass,
a gnat-cloud of arrowheads
laughing at the mirror.

May the dandy find his cemetery nice and neat.
May the flies not fall.
May her forehead continue to shine
like a bell in the kitchen.
May the strength of the oppressed
alarm the wicked.

Stacked winters on sand and grass
ice in glass sheaths calling to a crooked wire
ceilings and walls in the palm of one hand
murky blades catching long strands
and ceasing to move.

Take your time with me, tigress.
Spin the other men around you
in their rags of discontent.
Let us leave these fools behind
and go out together
to the greed of the sunlit tar
and the replaced lives.

Take me into your web of honey
like a rod on the embankments.
Slip into my furry longing
like an eel in mink.

Tar lit up by vagrant bulbs
torn pavement nipping at the feet of dogs
ripples in the lunar scalp
keys touching the water's pit
the running ground on a furry treadmill
zoom in frame of face exploding the lovely wall
curving bridge supports of fertile concrete
every button in the body's ship interior
tapped and blinking road.

There is a spark of being
that somehow leaps the frame.
That vegetable moment,
hovering on the bridge.

Where the sun eats up nothing,
paths quiet and curbed by wet.
Woods flickering with
the life that's in them,
ferns tracking the sides
of a rock fence.

Thuds in the envelope of sky
bringing fire closer
to the welts of purple darkness.

Time on a belt
chopped up by square hands.

There's a camera in your mouth
canal's cold leaves
branches on tin that cross stain-lit teeth
laundry pots of puppies' eyes
stirred in satin rings
stuck to the embankment's sides.

Grasses mounting metal hills
flowing over sewer throats
years of manufactured intelligence
painted stairways and coffee mug skulls.

Doorways blazing from a cleft
in the explained air.
Insignificant numbers like hot cheese
melting close to the earth.
Shuttered voices reading
the wishes of silence
a machine's vacant sneeze.

A trench in the mouth,
a big singing knife,
ten pillows for the body
twenty pillows for the mind,
a route through consciousness
that leaves trails of tape
sticking script in small burrows
tainted walls of pressed dirt
shades on the painted window
sea in the horseshoe curve
u shape of rock
the tongue of the eyes staring
with a steady flame,
stones descending veins of hands and feet
more flattened earth on the doorstep
streams of grass
on ditch sides in the afternoon
cracked seeds tucked into a granite lip
that tugs the mountain's base over a pool
one bubbling tooth
a sneer filled with plastic bullets
and a pelt of steel.

The dock's landscape of uneven boards
glinting with rain and clapping sea surface
long worms on the jutting end piece
piercing steam
generating tunnels in the soft curves of the body
flickering morphic waves
on the android's slender beach
the last human form
naked holding a fish pole
letting the sun soak his hide
with an imagined hatred
and loving it.

The cancer flames up in my head
I am a singing bush in the rain
on a wide and mossy trunk
speaking and singing alone to the big void
lines of teeth on stone lips multiplying outward
sending up fiber optic lines
the office ceiling of deep caves
torn menus glue rolled to curving walls
bluebells springing from the close corners
short shelves stacking space
into the agony of my ribs
gills in the searching arm that claws
after me all my life
lowering closed
legs finger an opening.