On nights like these, when I am pulled by the sky
and the mist drags in from the marsh,
I take to the glittering, empty streets
and glide silently outwards---
slipping on the polished innards
of mashed berries.

There are no people here,
now, on nights like these,
in a town like this.

Only one small boy, stupid,
beautiful, standing alone,
haloed in mustard light,
punching a stop sign in the face
again and again,
painting the pavement
with his fist-blood.

1115

The murmuring of Bees, has ceased
But murmuring of some
Posterior, prophetic,
Has simultaneous come.
The lower metres of the Year
When Nature’s laugh is done
The Revelations of the Book
Whose Genesis was June.
Appropriate Creatures to her change
The Typic Mother sends
As Accent fades to interval
With separating Friends
Till what we speculate, has been
And thoughts we will not show
More intimate with us become
Than Persons, that we know.

1.

Once you've had it,
Once it's gone,
The true potency remains,
Stagnant,
Dormant,
Diluted in silent frames,
The thought of suicide,
Cold death,
Relinquish breath,
The archer's arrow steers to manifest.

2.

Lost for words,
Vocabulary gone,
The moon chants the wolf's song,
Beckoning the locked doors of the night,
Inside the fright,
inside the mind,
Locate the keys to a genius find,
Let's create new gardens,
Let's create new beliefs,
Let's storm the stoics,
Run naked through the streets,
**** on the values,
Invent the insane,
Torture and ridicule,
The ******* moralists who lay the blame.

there is always that space there
just before they get to us
that space
that fine relaxer
the breather
while say
flopping on a bed
thinking of nothing
or say
pouring a glass of water from the
spigot
while entranced by
nothing

that
gentle pure
space

it's worth

centuries of
existence

say

just to scratch your neck
while looking out the window at
a bare branch

that space
there
before they get to us
ensures
that
when they do
they won't
get it all

ever.

The cruciferous prophet sticks in my teeth-
I think I'd rather have a tidbit, of thief;
All covered, of course, in a vinegar sauce
With just a light dusting, of the true cross.

Some rarefied spleen, set sideboard,
With red vintage wine; A.D. thirty-four
Frankincense and Myrrh, baked in aspic;
And saved for last, Shroud Flambe: digestif.

I'm ready to love again
To **** again
Though not one without the other
Back scars and
Beating hearts
Pressed together
How deep can your fingernails dig?
I want to hear you whisper my name
I want you to take my hand
And pull me into the storm
Ignoring the deluge
And the cacophony
Nevermind the rain
Your eyelashes are enough to shield us
Smile, or smirk
I really don't care
So long as you kiss like you mean it
Pulling me close until it hurts
Don't bite your lip
I'll do it for you
As you look on in ecstasy
Love me until it physically hurts
Love can't hurt me