gothic appraisals of vanquished love--

an auditorium at maximum capacity.

a vampire standing ***** before every

wooden seat.

in the dead of, in the dead of, in the dead

of night--breaking the neck of what turns

back, in pindrop hollows.

all hissing simultaneously, at the girth of

loss, trembling with elation.

there's something about

a cardinal, flitting across

saturated woodchips after

a downpour.

as if throwing back air in a

looksy of: fly.

whose tree cover tantalizes

a resonance that treats the peace

between wetness & color.

sometimes there's an existent

persuasion, that shadows individually

agree to blend in, As.

that is--they enter.

you know they've entered, having

conjured them, too well anon.

a merciful mark that appears &

disappears--hiding for your sake.

known by import, that which seeks

the gratification of seeing...but not

being seen.

an entourage of black & white monsters
rabidly collapse--on a mall's glassy floor.
itching away at pixelation, retaining the
right to crudity.
the mall's scent marketing spreads its
delicious mist around yellow hazard signs,
methodically placed around hinterland's
embattled fringe.
the horror vacui of a mall, full stop.
the Art Brut of the disciple that got away,
having escaped from a ****'s forth crow, or
Judas' Romanesque royalties.
the unnoticed figure that whistles apart the
mall's glass ceiling, rubs his eyes to reveal
St. John of Patmos ******* out the soupy eyes
of lambs.
shaking free an extra large fountain soda from
Christ's right hand--dissolved by flavor.
denominational puddles rising from the mall's
glassy floor, as Christ hacks up demonic roars
as he's assailed by children.
whose parents wander off to ***** a voluptuousness
that sheds their hands, all over the place.
a pendulously oversexed wash of half-baked
******, as if a feather could be roused from an
indeterminate wing.
the adjourned high courts of dream.

a six story door,
made of compressed wood--
darkish brown.
upright & unhinged.
shantytown openness.
riddled with keyhole
porousness.
no doorknob.
warped with catalogued
moisture.
a dust pile of bricks
resounding its architecture
in a tumbleweed breeze.
a pod of suns swaying overhead,
like 70s billiard lamps after a
brawl.