<><><><><>

Smashed diamond with towns in its slanting sides
 smashed diamond hides all the time
  glacier deep in its kisses departing
   shards of sidewalk to the moon
    drubbed with drunken foot

<><><><><>

A mysterious siren, my brother as I
must be rounded or flung high
into depths that clutch upward or downward
circuit the same light dull dawning
or trapped light in the belly of a mule
lips on cruise control body talking
or trapped light in the light of a cubicle
vacuumed land of the vacuumed man
a grey-rugged hell strewn with skin
peeling from being, dying cells in hexagram
dying, flirting with terror on a surf's
     promise

<><><><><>

The scorched cemetery of desire:
 fearless wind, no dagger, minimal
 conflict of bones, the cliff-faces in evening gowns,
    a hardened mystic, chest-wound in the golf-cart,
   fluttering of the thing houses of fools
    spattered by their own idiocy, hating the hollow
                                                                          dawn,
                                                     and jazz, and loving
                                             only their streamlined reptile.

<><><><><>

A morsel of my humanity
    preserved on the cliff's edge: the scarred
      neighborhoods applaud with streetlights
                                                 and wire.

<><><><><>

The face carved backwards: the spirit carved backwards.
The whole hideous self a wasteland of swollen milk.
Frisson in eyelids, in eyelashes, in long and curving and strong
and slender branches, that hold the climber with hands that walk upside,
down, lines knotted with other lines: mercury vapor, no face,
wildly edible poison, everywhere, the landscape inhabiting masks.
Telephone of ozone cracking like a June bug.

<><><><><>

Fluctuate between two beams fledge
               of the same, both denied
 bodysnatcher of dreams,
                 scaffold on empire's sidewalk
    which we walk under,
       partner in partner in parcel
                  to be parceled to power,
       within and without, trigger
           on trigger, demise on demise,
     until we fall prey, to the same light,
        absence's remainder: a space
      for those revisited by life to walk.

<><><><><>

Foliage of white marble
  perishable that, and perishable this
     marriage of total will to shadow
      lineage of ripe metal
    sparking and flanging the cavern's eyes
  hurry of water state for water
    speak for water hurrah for water
  tongues of amber sunrise over the yellow hills
impermanent record of imprisonment
  stranded on razor's nothing burnt civilization
   nothing to live for nothing to die for one with the heart
     breathing cages and piping calls
      bodies unalone, restlessly
        never free of one another
          never free
      city of functionless behavior
 unnecessary empire
      toil of fools
         disengage yield yammer of twilight
    fuck off into a fault-stammer

<><><><><>

With dual swivel electric hair
 we will beat, skin on these
   skin drums, until your prisons
      melt like taffy
    for the wounds of the poor
        and the mutilated.
   There will be no rest.
The glowing presence of different chemical joints on a highway
 pop-up trimmer for sideburns or mustache a deluxe lighted mirror
  sulfur and the dark blue streamers are richest and rear twin mats
    vanishing point ake up a whole
      in the same manner for car acoustics
       and flatten the roofs.

THE SKUNK SOBER

I dump licorice down my throat
 and avoid looking at the landscape:
   kissing your face, eating your ass,
     whoever you were, I knew you
         perfectly, and in return
                             I am lofted strangely
    so that the vague and pagan
              about death might dance.


The picnic levels that face out
  from corridors you walked, next to
       the ocean, drinking light
          from the erupted mirror,
           hair combed, ready for
             departure, ready for
                  helicopter
   you laughed with my ladies and everybody
       read the above and nixed it
           with a charcoaled thumb,


--it's too new, then too old,      
  plus it's one too many poems
   about rimjobs--but it's not
   about that, that's in addition to:
   love, it's great, I would just--
    drop a comma.


  My face went plaid with wine
   two American suckers at the
                   windowsill with drinks,
 tossing curses at the powerful
laughing hard, praising the customers of laundry
we painted 9 a.m. yellow ourselves
dabbed in gin to freshen the brush.

<><><><><>

With two quills protruding
                       from my tail, the feeler
          of space made blood,
  mercury paper a stillborn wall before me
     speaking is death under the vents of the mushroom
     speaking is death under the gills of the tower
     erotica blitz eyes covered with bookish lashes
      smile up tilted in the slash of a page edge
          remnant of beach peninsula follicle
                          glow fiber under the sand electronica

<><><><><>

I feel the burden of my tradition
 those who fought beauty out
         of the air.
 From a bejeweled position
     I stare out into the shit of night
The enlightenment of crones
                      descends like chicken feet
                                    on my head.
  I am rumored to be starring
       in several dimensions, a this-lifer,
               happily trapped in the cycle
                        of actions, the conqueror penis
                  comprehending
                             the insides of mankind.

<><><><><>

Trees re-formed and positioned for me
the docks in a tract of silence held flat on the water
kitten stare from a high slab moon
duck moan in a low harbor and the river eating
slender the cares that drape by mending
            sky's scape of murder to earth
 the rent of cerulean core
      pitch-dark fruit of ages
                      proliferating through walls
                  that fall to become their boulder-twins
                      a ditch of raspberry eyes
                pleading backwards from a path of sharper stones

<><><><><>

Riding through the aftermath
                of billions of lives
      with salt legs
            trailing everything nothing;
      spiny plant-precipice, touched & torched
               by lingering fires,
      made breath by vastness:
            how hard to carry without
      this gargoyle face, sternness
           these limbs of pepper

<><><><><>

Animal of light
tearer of sounds from the air
resound without a body
liquidate the assets of celestial crime
respond like lice to me and release my flow
into the atmospheres of death
hidden behind potted flowers on the retired avenue
the jokes of congress smitten on the air
ravages of love's abandonment
to rivulet through refrigerated land
and ozone the vulvic agitation
of time, and its anti-cancer

<><><><><>

Fearful for the purple in your skin,
    the blood that wants to get out.
   It is good for people to be honest
    with one another.  To see the way enfolded.
      You are rose pepper
        and fructose flyer, searching
         my kitchen for rations,
        marauding with silks in the bed room,
          reminding me why I was alone for so long
        and why I will never want to be alone again.


Bring me powerfully to the threshold of self
   to torch barriers and watch them hold without spite,
    impregnating us both with
          cheese waffles, rice cakes,
              and vinegar salad,
  while in the country of minutes from now
I kiss your well-trimmed flaps,
      tryingly, like someone asking
                a servant to save his life.

<><><><><>

Dandelion orb, idiocy pure
             of no perspective,
                  life-giving, rain
                      on us less,
  we can't stand it: too much
      that asks too little
         we bask wrinkling
            our brows while
              the sun wrinkles our hours
     trundling our cares
         half into sleep,
            celestially bawling
      yardless and erotically imperative
        dreamed terror of the
            error we're born to
              like a kiss
                   deflected

<><><><><>

I without a name, the centuries
    pass over me with no effect,
 the zero sum of dignity,
      emerging through the shared web of layers
  illusion kaleidoscraped
brightly lit by failure
  with no act that requires law
orbited nightlessly
  we injure things toward their true lives
     and give them infinite perspective

<><><><><>

The mission is expressed
      by a fallen bridge.
    Cables that come to the arms
           will lift and lift.
       Orbs will move away with me,
           set rails will smelt and
              imprint themselves into the earth,
          follicles never suspected
              trickle through the scalps of all
                   and give light to the aftermath.

<><><><><>

Grandson with a gun
    pummeled the fake sky chamber
       had medicine in the town butterfly planetarium
     asking nothing to flower, asking all
       to flake and ash willfully, to fall down
        simmering coils of live vegetable
  building the spaceship of the dead
   the largest melted industry, teeming
            horizon-widening hacksaw eye scythe
       soothing the masochist's duck waddle
      the path of the humble anti-electrons
 those who stamenly affect no one
         steeple the pimpled hills with corrupt cathedrals
    add genitals in gilt-edged symphonic
         sheets, scrolled in gigantic piano wire
      the forefather of sorrow
 binding up his room in a wraparound keyboard
   exiting by window after window
    heater speared and counter-speared on the winter
the laundromat a halo of soda candy and porno
  porch chairs ciggy butts and raw diapers
                              goodwill clothes and half-rotted sneakers
                                                            lapsed currency clotted in the pop of the heels
                                                         undying fury of intellect, brow's cloud inter-oriented
                                                                                                     to yellow roses and the punch
                                                                                                                of the yellow moon.

<><><><><>

I'm like a fucking child
  who can't sleep or grow.
 I beg whores to bring me sugar.
   Everything I do is practiced idiocy.
 I can't eat my lemons sour.
   More than play, I work at death,
      sorely and tirelessly, being
         begged from within
                             to fall down.