Wet-bellied banker crusting over spilled marrow

I am a human I am a god

Gut of the crimson Buddha and eleven hours more

We will tower over God and fall under God

My neck is the dividing mule

And hair spouts from the worthless woman

And hair pulls in sickened hands

Gutter of smoldering women

Alley in the daylight

Aimless troubadours, Christmas ( Read more... )

I will gesture the last bone to fall

Into a place unlike

The Earth’s writhing wound spoiling what is left

To be captured

Torchlight dissipates, yellow midnight glides

Over my neck with cold hands

Having filled me with the dry stone feed

I discover no remedy lasts,

For longer than the instant

a single helpless moment

The only source

The shallow present, the intangible future and

A deep pond black of what barely was

Cross my paths unconquerable

Bring me the dry stone feed

My actions

Rust

I am miserable

In the system of consequence

( Read more... )

Oscar,

They approach us in a parlor chair

You are smoke in the hand

Hand that fades from a light

Emanates through the grey

If you need something done

If you need something done

I’m on fire, all the time

You are veins filled with light

Streets of people with deadlines

Rain and light in the dark

If you need something done

If your smoke blows away

I’m on fire, all the time

I’m on ( Read more... )

I don’t mouth dead words

To dying eyes anymore

Carving a hole to glimpse the dilated ego

Careening, devoting hairs of misfortune

To that balding, ethereal world

I was a blast from the painted cannon

Silent, mastered, incapable

And still am, mind you (mind myself)

The truncated piano and smothered wooden doll

The muddied bonnet, bleached photograph

Of a corner store

You have adored the ( Read more... )

With time, the old blood does not wash away

Apart from time, the snow adheres

And you are turned to ice mid-day

Deep-eyed Susan braves that ornate gleam

Anglo-Saxon cars on wooden streets

The timber cracks and ice deprives

A shoulder over half the lake

And mirrors divide, reflect the face

Casting half on either bank

The muddy reeds embalm and shake

What sand so swiftly demonstrates

Strands of that ugly, greenish fire

Purge the hard will of discourse

That emptiness of fire stains

With heat the glowing room

There is nowhere for you to be

There is nothing in the water

Smooth stones and fecal matter

Curling white-knuckled under the water

Filing through outdated names

Address cards and greenish flames-

The old smoke ( Read more... )