I swear to God,
I can still remember
the constellations on your back.
I trace them
over and over
again in my mind.
I look for them
on every other body
I have seen since.

**** happy - klonopin.
We're drug addicts or gay.
Crisis where christ is.
Bullets fly and we laugh -
None of our business.

We sit shiva for strangers ,
And blood splatters the camera lens.
The uprising persists.
We exist in glitter.
Head trauma, and its bad (I think)
Somewhere, a baby is crying.

It's classical for the incomprehensible.

Last one to die, please turn out the light.

Porcelain.
They get more pretend,
every one of them. More ridiculous,
film star, rich kid,
sometimes I don't even meet them.

Trophies. Little silver spoons,
rugby players, Tories, DJs.
They come from faraway places,
I make myself sound amazing,
make believe that it means something.

My little heart has been diced up
like the rats in the labs that I slice up.
Running the same experiments,
it gets boring after a while.
I can't stick at it for too long.

Time to move on.
Playing games in the lives of real people,
I want to be a story at parties,
a tale to regale for a suited man
in an interview.
I'll make you seem interesting.

I want to be shiny and pretty and new
for a week or two.
Don't take me for granted,
don't forget me but don't hang around.
I have lives to live, things to do.

I just needed to hear something
soft like
yellow from the lamp or
my love because
I can't stand the haunting hum of waiting
the anxious, ancient hour under my bone
half bent, ticking
picking my flaws like a hurt bird;
it is my time i give away
& unlike my heart
sadly stuck with me
i cannot keep, cannot get
these minutes back

girls, boys, friends, and words
morning river stones and stoners
water/smoke/gold bits
home known lips
years beautifully dreaming
maybe god
maybe house, and teeth, and stars, and *****
family thinking,
father, children, trees and feet/fort
of blankets
earthy far places/closer in pictures
legs been dancing
lovers been drunk beneath their best thoughts
gone
to air-like warm place, autumn
hand, or
deep fingered fruit and flame
alive to die
to die, is life
truely lived in color and crayola
kids making breathy art of movement, sport
to tongue and run
thinking of leaves, the spirit dog breathes blue
dreaming of big cool animals
he once saw
the meat of wilderness/tenderness
woman, she works the red dust
memories of street ancient holy naked heights
fun nights/fights/***** given
party lost body making ****** form waves, pool
full on tall-tales and books to seed
an empire
a televised endless story of flesh and
remember
a life, survived
passed on to a throng of youth
free spirits/springtime adventures
bottled pink sheets and the american lawn
bone-war in a distant existence
closer seen in pictures
fictions, stories told
retold, father’s factory soaked skull
his spit sweetened up in the mountains
goats we were, ready/ not ready
escaping slaughter
speaking of forests and ritual vengeance
popcorn blunted ghouls envisioned by pungent neighborhood momentum
weekend, high

I have to shout to you over the noise of the television
In the form of a million other eyes
Standing, waiting, weeping
Watching our country slowly drip with wet paint
Stained in the color of loss
Peace, by piece, by piece

Smothered by your haughtiness and weak foresight
I have abandoned hope to the intangible concept of your knife
slitting the throats of a future generation
cutting out their docile voices
so only yours can be heard

are you lonely?
a blur through the skylight
black prism
noise
i dream of particles
empty waterways
myself
where has everyone gone?
shoes line the shore
a galloping howl splits the earth
and we rise like mist towards dead suns
are you here?
there is a surface you slip beneath every night
sometimes you catch glimpses of it when you stare into the emptiness beneath your lids
it is where you go to watch yourself die
who are you?*
sisyphus turned inwards
the first body of god
crushed beneath the weight of the ocean