writing on water
gives the Ocean
chills.
the **** of periods
finishing each other's
sentences.

with a monk's silent sermon,
the dyes of memory run and fade.
all that crying in the rain, for the
concealment of tears.
charging the deepest and darkest alleys--
where rats drown bucking their teeth
for air.
i remember you kept creating new
flowers, nailing them to crumbling
walls.
calling them odes to your city, revolving
fast enough for change.
you kept climbing out of yourself, to
inspect the efficacy of emergency exits.
all those lag times through them, negligibly
deemed safe.
we wondered at holding hands able to
part for a passerby.
theorizing until we could not unify the field.

Comeuppance:
to be spat upon by
the expositor of sense!
a stave driven into
earth, swearing afield.
cross with ways.
cessation of stance,
BlOw...
clearing blue seats.
a ShIp Of FoOlS setting sail.
games of solitaire,
wearing down squares as
soon as color.
you look tired--
maybe you should go to bed.
you look wide awake--
maybe you should go for a walk.
please be so kind as to feed
the suggestion boX.

Wake, the telegrammatic

message begins: full stop.

thousandth mile of a first

step--(crazy wisdom).

the journey condensed

to a stone talisman in hand--

squeezed hard enough to

issue water.

leaving clear splotches on

dust-caked feet, a deep breath

takes itself.

an Arcadian distance betrays

the sunbathing emissaries of fate.

a feeble self-hug is given, to

quell the shudder.

a roll of coffee in mouth, with

the gradualness of staining Teeth.

at your leisure,
which may not be an extended
courtesy.
traverse the gut levels that
forewarn your animal.
as you're being basted by
the solvent juices of digestion--
feel bones slog beneath
flesh.
put together to pitch loccomotion
in shape.
allow for the phasing circumambulations
of a spiral to begin constriction.
let fall the reverberations of wet bells
on shriveling ears.
well on the hour no man can know--
well on the hour no man can know,
well on the hour.
with immense fidelity, the mass that
was he--broken down into uproars
of life.
as at an apogee of wind, a veil bulges--
and a spark leans forward to behold.

at moontide, a branch finaled
against the wall.
waving as the frizzy snap of
a violin string.
tiled floor, the schema of
a chessboard--its black and white
slowly drinking rain.
broken continuum raised at odd angles,
voyeuristic sky boring holes in the ceiling.
or a starry break in the
window--
by a rock from the idle palm of a
pubescent boy.
in a room that has flown away from
its house, to engender a new kind
of dwelling.
only a bare mattress rests on the floor,
glowing like a turquoise swimming
pool.
mothering time in its deep dreams
of sleep, floating caches of eyeless
fish.
the room, starving for human energy--
contaminates itself, thus condemned
to demolition.
yet another unsung, and profound
isolation artist.

to hate with a hate that
scandalizes half of hell--
to love with a love that
scandalizes half of heaven.
moreover, as one another.
merely par for the course.
whole as lungs in the
balance of air, for what's
risen has fallen.
what's fallen has risen.
as every truth a tired
hypocrisy.