I will always be with you
In the small spaces of
Your mind
In every
Act or
Semblance
Or familiar form

I am to tell my friends about the Little People with their eyes all green + needy for their Firemen Daddies spent all their time looking out of windows/ locking eyes/ opening car doors/ stereos and cereal bowls. I can’t be held responsible for what’s been published in the Upanishads, creation myths and scripture—better send me up to that little coffee shop in Ireland where the rat-tailed people go and wonder/spell ubiquitous lessons out in the snow. I am tired—tell my patients there will be no more tomorrows. Tell them I am cold stranded in the produce section—lecturing to Thomas on the fuel pumps. Send my mother a letter of sincerity & stamped with all the times I went out looking for images. In mirrors I was hungry for the cool essence of weightless sight. Tell my father mime out my appearance live in perfect unison. I am no agent of response. Just an eggshell hard-on gawking at the puddle markers blessed in disguise.

Deep in the heart of trying times;
weighty presence of the end announced
comfort and confusion begging guidance
carried out only in subtle progressions of ideas; the formation of new worlds

wayfaring watchmen of all tomorrows!

bring me to the security of nascent breath!

render me helpless before, finally, I rest and invite nothing further!
that which might delay subconscious affirmation
-of deeply hewn desire
to accept in burning glory the self-searching odyssey within

parallel returns to unmanifest self
in this world of sight and senses

I have seen it too!
-as if to climb the pyramids like slow-growing ivy
choking sunlight
and in it's figure
obscuring all beyond it

Atrophied claws
rake the wooden tiles
crawling toward
the authentic touch
of moving energy
working toward the source
of the divine egg
at the end of the
Long Hall
energy resounds
& beckons towards
the point of life

******* now

through words presented as love

we don't know what the **** love is

love is ***

I speak all interesting to her love-making

Neither of us knows what ******* is

we are born of the dead-love age

Love is reduced to an image

I make a sound and goo appears somewhere

Whatever

We can talk and talk all night long

Someone is going to get what they want

However perverse

I saw in my soul's window a million paranoid, knowing eyeballs resonate apocalypse planned as total fate

Saw a million lonely, scared faces seek to vibe with one aesthetic

Knew totality, balance, show hate, kindness, in the marshes of beyond

Surrender--final threshold to the Almighty Wisdom of Creation

Knew all the petty footfalls born in all personal hells

Wandered All before & After

Found myself still & unknowing

Realized ultimate futility & saw & knew the Eye that shivers with mistrust--symptom of essential human error--done collapsing

Tried to be transceiver for total consciousness,visions, intuitions, serpents of inbetween places, all dialed into the same direct knowing posture outward, upward, sideways & nowhere

Sought to riddle my apostrophes in the dream market, in the blind bank or else Jericho my soul to stall my own progression

the best vanishing techniques
done w/ mirrors
or so I have been told
set to spare the glance
of any foe so bold
to rescue all the monkeys
in the vast mountains of China
there are few wild
undercover panda bears
we are headed for a strange future
where all events are known
whose contours undiscovered
reckon towards the fact
every so often the world pauses
& rare blossom is shown/sewn
then quickly extinguished
this age is at an end
& yet
maybe it's just me
my day in sunlight
burning in the grass
eating little purple flowers of springtime
my cat searching for aphids & robins
squirrel assaulted by sparrows in humidity
I am annoyed w/ everything
manic w/ guilt
last night I drank 4 beers and masturbated
not in that order
smoked 3 cigarettes--not much there
days but still--I feel so guilty
I am so lazy I can hardly make myself

My shadow exposed
I feel the cold weight
of winter upon me

this is a poem for the night
and for the dawning
of the darker dream
where we’ll go watching
waiting for a sign
that we might be free
of ourselves
in laughter
in a moment
in response I can’t tell
if it’s serious
are you serious?
am I serious?
are they serious?
on the other side
where everything is made
of eyeballs math and color
are they serious in the capital
or more serious with lights off
when the mask of form is stolen
and then free to create
are we free in dreams
or do you dig the weird collapse
of the winking eye
to reach a point of limitless cohesion
in a black cup
do we take the leap
of faith to sleep
a second longer
knowing that our dream
is the more real &
the nightmare is an image
of inverted faith
decaying in a flash of
meteoric sparks burning
up the sky to light
this new joint in the atmosphere of
the living room
dropping LSD in
VR
to paint a picture
with mental pixels
or build your inner fire
or net an alien
or get in bed w/ grandma
& her bronzed boots
behind us where an open window
calls the night in cool
cascades of secret drunken knowledge
or else obnoxious wisdom
with apology
when we’re closer to
that which knows no logic
moves in shadow backwards
up the wall
to find us
when the sun shreds all
we thought we knew

Peace blooms
in the sheets that separate you from me

in the fragments squandered on guilty stares

we lay silently, exposed
pulled at opposite ends with determined notions
of what it is to be
or who we might now appear as to one another
loving animal lunatics
swapping microcosmic myths
ensnared in opposing forms
dictated by multitudes of imponderable framework
reduced into ourselves and refined into dusty essence

Our intrigue abolished
by an unexpected and undesirable morning
when finally we found ourselves vulnerable and sick

I am here with you
my brothers and sisters
isolated though we are
like islands in a vast sea
The poisons of our upbringings
need not taint the future
there is still time
there is no such thing as time
We were born into a lie
constructed of greed and blood
but the rich living mystery
it is incorruptible
It is waiting
fresh as the snow gathered on the lawn
In this cold Michigan winter
The time has come
to break the cycle of decay
of endless pain and insanity
to control the lust
which tarnishes
the gentle offerings of beauty & love
handed down by Nature
There is no better time to be alive
Than right now
In this moment

When I get that itch
To not sit straight or still
Not to talk at all
Have I got something to say?
I don't know--But I see
All that you see--All alright
Don't feel bad about it
But feel it anyway
Maladaption has it's limits
Your situation not at all
Rearranging

I'll write to you
John Wieners
you old twisted fruit long
dead & drained of brilliance
brain inherited from Burroughs
you analytical ****** John
long gone are the hours you
spent in bars in bed in someone's
*** like Ginsberg you are the
emotional man who ran his
fingers through the flesh
of frozen moments tenderness
exhibited in elegies of
departed lovers no dope
sunrise sheltered by your
words the refuge of poetic
gnosis brought from Beats
to Black Mountain *******
Moloch men mounting
one another thighs apex near
sun to receive the final fatal
flash of pleasure then descend
again to madness like
Kerouac you sought the silver
honey-milk of bohisattva jazz
jive held eternity in a frozen
moment and a moment on a
page made offerings to the
hideous grey gods of machinery
and read the neon streetlight
hieroglyphics you who busted
mind-forg'd manacles of Blake
with consonance and assonance
and *** of boys born bravely
to the ecstasy of final drunkenness
& one last cigarette O
prisoner of earth and of the body
you are risen!

America

**** your McDonald's drive-thrus

**** your ninety-nine cent ******* hamburger, taco, pizza, salad, milkshake, hotdog, cheese, chicken and ice cream.

**** your ever-penetrating, all-enveloping television stare
-looking into every home and obscenely tucking children into bed with your poisonous, dangerous nonsense

**** your deadly highways and metal death machines

**** your educational system which affords no opportunity and disgraces the intelligent by basing self-worth on imaginary symbols

**** your restriction of information and for appointing one man to represent anybody but himself

******* for breeding such similar beings

**** your twisted hatred of change & for arresting children while cadavers dry-**** the so-called american dream

******* for losing your own soul & destroying us daily

******* for putting faces on beauty and giving such loud voices to hypnotic fantasy

**** your favorite sons and daughters

******* for the wars which can never be won

******* for advertising Jack Daniels on the freeway

******* for a pack of cigarettes - seven dollars and fifty cents

******* for making my **** hard

******* for not looking at the stars every night

******* because I am poisoned by paper

******* for the starvation of spirit & pills handed out to numb the broken minds you've made & the shattered ones you avoid

******* for the homeless prophets

**** your speech decree & for rubbing freedom in the faces of the dying

**** your holy stars & stripes

**** your hushed genocide and & torture

**** your phantom masses and empty religions

******* for providing no wholesome evenings in my rotten town

**** your signposts and support beams

You are but a word

The endless instrumentation of electric air

each chord striking beauty

the silhouette sounds deepen

soul is now sound

now we're in an image of the eyeball shifting
sheltered under rainbow crow's feet
iridescent
what is different?
my roommate asks me under humming bulb & breezes
in my father's kitchen

we will wash the plastic rat
black & lathered as my brother
masturbates his whiskers
individually with shampoo

this is the lord's day

forms are found and then forgotten
on the axis of my navel
I feel very
isolated in slow end-game
pictures animated just for me
they shudder/blossom
in my bathtub

arabesques with eyes closed watching
ladies jesting self-lust
obsessing winking saying
they are only watching

aloud alone anon

outside there is a
frozen rabbit
twisted in the grass embroidered
w/ one million happy diamonds
blazing primordial frosted
like flagellum in a dreamscape
all aligning to the haunted
second where I'm seeing

movies of hypostyle halls
sound of cacti calling
diet soda sounds of
thorny carbonation
born from
liquid crystal wisdom

like words
sold in churches
dissolved like a
communion wafer
on the tongue
of the infinite
like an
empty banquet
beneath a gothic arch
there is no conquering
it is the art
of no conquering
she said
and showed me
a bowl of fruit
some rotten
morsels in her ribcage
in the winter
parking lot
buick town car
we are riding across
the pavement of the east
and that’s the same ***
everyday he’s greedy
for my images
i keep them in the glovebox
with the receipts
i don’t look at him today
i can’t
see him in the mirrors
cutting up the scenery
something is misplaced
i’ve left it in
the bedroom
in the boxes
you are taking
down south
your precious hedge clippers
and crosby, stills
nash and young
do you really
need them?
down south
where they’ve got
horses
and go karts
and snakes
and tvs in their showers
and biscuits and gravy
and dust
and rodeo
and milk crates
and model ts
and model as
and all the other
so called
necessities
you say my cousin
my uncle
all are happy
your father
unknown as you are
unknown
this is what
is before me
he is closing
his eyes
and speaking:
“hana”
“dul”
“set”
repeat
“hana”
“dul”
“set”
it is the art
of no-conquering
he says
and smiles
beneath a ripped-out ceiling
beneath a vaulted space
return
he says
to breath
look through the images
he calls us
into our own bodies
into our own spaces
“hana”
“dul”
“set”
the absolute reality
he says
is where we are all god
“hana”
you shouldn’t be trying
to feel any certain way
“dul”
i came up with the idea
for flavored crust pizza
until those *******
at hungry howies
stole it
“set”
he is lighting a cigarette
she is pouring tea
she is taking off her underwear
“this world’s gonna keep on spinning”
“i wish i-“
“man i’mma get mine”
“aw **** it”
“no better than the man in the moon”
“need to get some new drywall in here”
“santa’s not cheap”
samsara
is
samsara
return to breath
“hana”
“dul”
“set”

skirting all the
animated moments
move swift
fast in ****** muscle
recollections he was
wounded in his chair
there seized upon the
revolution from his
own side was to watch
her three trips for ****
that Sunday he was
spending and suspended
by a strange hand as
balloon him falling
forward always faithful
you should call him
I think we're making progress
marijuana chocolates
no violence ******* pull-ups
in the basement sitting cross
legged wondering and
heartsick seized upon
some love of colors
giving in most pathetic
but real love there and present
finally quit the buffet job &
am I crazy now?
tales of DMT and pink-flash
of white hot nothing
abolished in after-image
finger traces hold the
third **** then
thru the kaleidoscope
door where not to
be abandoned to
utopias rather fishing
for an image of
divine mother pulled
out of the background
subtle nature language
wove in one's own tongue
never have you known it
but it's now & faster
than imagined
a world which breaks apart
into fractal building blocks
of source code neverending
as she's on the couch with
snapchat filters absurdities
of alcohol and everything
startling the sleep sick
senses

The postman showed up ready for Miami so I slung his bag around my shoulder & set out down the block. All the neighborhood dogs loved me but the little Asian lady on the corner admonished me to love her Buddha tacky flowers and faded yellow junk store haircut. In the gutter I found an old drunk redneck yelling: “Hey, you seen any ******* ‘round here?” I told him no and he asked: “Are you sure?!” & hopped up on a bag of bottles/ flew away. Down the liquor store the man there never smiles just sells his greasy chicken and tobacco, asks me where I been and I say “Oh, you know.” He keeps his floors polished and argues with his brother when you turn away. I ask him how much for tonight & he answers like a jackal, says I can’t be hustling deposits here & kick me out on Tuesday. I *** home & cat ***** on my shoe. Clean it up & pour oatmeal on his head just nice. He purr & coo & I go “aw, aw, kitty, no.” He bundle up in the room where I don’t know & trail spaghetti markers to my bed. I rent my lamp out to the city in exchange for unknown pleasure & get tackled in the bedsheets.

Kali, make me an implement of your final cruelty and wisdom
Where there is motion, let me slow the vibration
So that your senses might attune to stillness
So that you might destroy my innocence and abolish my existence
May Kali Yuga swallow every form
May the myriad wonders go rushing, gushing thru your fangs
May the birth pangs of tomorrow chase the fortune of today
May the endless hours be abolished in calamity
Teach us to acknowledge the concrescence of our essence
Show us finality of form
Destroy the walls of every home—for we have willed it
Forever in a vacuum
May there be no sound of seasons
May every reason fall to chaos
You have made us in your image
Teach us to recognize
Where there is form, void;
Where there is truth, deception;
Where there is certainty, a cosmic pun;
Where there is reality, hallucination;
Where there is touch, neglect;
Where there is growth, a garden full of ashes;
You of many names: Anima, The Serpent Mother, Blessed Other,
Mind of Nature, Mind of Man, She Who Can, She Who Is, Spider Woman, Tao
Bring us to the edge of the unspeakable now
Disrupt our petty play
Absolve us from decay

Amazing how we’ve come so far
And are still so far apart
Everything is natural
I tell myself
But then
What makes us so strange?
Something here is strange
We seek to make it known
Like a deadbeat injuring himself
On the job
In Tennessee
Subject to
Endless repetition
In the marble quarries
Of old Athens
We copy what is known
Expecting praise
While cities of the night
Reveal an ancient face
The body is the portal
The world is but a riddle
On the stone cells of
A tomb
Golden wax
Breeds life
From the base of a great tree
Where an old woman
Sings in praise of Kali Yuga
Calls the pasture to her hand
And all the humming things
Come forward
Blind & obedient
Like unpolished flesh
The drapery billows w/
No motion
Sends the eyeballs off
In search of internal shadows
Where the Other waits
Where it always has
Where it will be confronted
Where it will be embraced
Where it will be known
Or die to our division
& cover up our genitals forever

the gentle roll of linoleum wheels

cellophane crumbling under busy fingers

injured legs and bruised egos hobbling up onto electric motors

plastic temptation oozes in the hollow

linear formations of children and wives amble downward

each man shelters himself behind his own dishonesty

millennium passes in view of the black, hanging periscopes

beyond the doors, they stagger inward

dragging pity on a chain which stretches clear to the highway

hungry dogs trot along in their wake

fragrance of fresh meat lingers in the air

Experimental words used in secret societies by kids whose faces come sweeping in like electric-neon firelight, all aglow with the hard sheen of imperfection, flawed souls and humor

humor of the eyes and lips
humor of movements and behavior
humor of inherited traits

Mindful declarations of impartial feelings
reflecting deep, subterranean pools

Which may not exist-may only be self-perception

Who can tell? Where is truth?

Must it come through the reducing valve in increments or flooding through the forehead, unstable and insane

Certainly not in here, the realm of language and symbolic computer reality-building & the evolution of empty space

Taking headforms & nameless expanses
-from which galaxies of what in the corners of all looks right

Practices of the unknown, unthought
-bending the unbendable, pushing further on the boundless, frozen horizon

passing into morning
barely hidden by a t-shirt
hammering the tires off the wheels
skittish darts under plywood
smells like pizza & motor oil
can you dial for me?
one box hollow point bullets
finger pinched off in the chamber
federal ammunition
federal eagle is covered in blood
against a ****** background
a well-oiled machine
what can I getcha?
what is the boss having?
ontological, ecological, illogical
wildflowers bud, blossom, wither
& decay in a sandstorm --
are ****** into a twister--
lightning strikes them--
they freeze and snap like dry twigs
no television for five days
crying--eviction notices--not much time left
gonna go soon anyways

Saying love to you
A confirmation for myself
suppose it is true in a basic sense
of fundamental human connection
yet it is all too obvious
& too difficult
to correspond
must be something else
something new

She tells me she can’t write anymore
I know that isn’t true
I see her poems and they are pretty good
Better than most
She says she’s lost her spark
And justifies her own astrology
To me
Yesterday
I saw a blue bud light can aluminum
Rolling down Dix highway
Looking like a sapphire jewel sparkling
I almost misspelled jewel
I feel like my eyes are out of focus
I cannot think as clearly
After a giant coffee
Everyday
People hate to read their work
Or speak their minds
I am looking to be justified
For what?
I am looking for a ritualistic catharsis
Out of myself
I am becoming a better everything
I tell myself
I am in line with the will of the goddess
I now think
I look for the winking face or knowing smile
Of eternity in the back of a pickup truck
In front of me in traffic
They can reach you anywhere
I see the blue eagle sweeping out of a dream
And recognize his strange form
I put on a leather jacket someone left at my house and decide that I will keep it
I feel cool when I go out to the movies wearing it
I smoke a lot of **** and watch a movie
And try to have no expectations

Do we watch

As the final living flower

Sheds its blossom

All true life

Just outside our grasp

Stood shivering

In Midwestern bones

Don't you know

God's beneath the pavement

The Living Spirit aches

beneath our feet

The Endless Hunger

Gnaws emptily at our shoulder

We turn away

Into the next seduction

I've seen children disappearing

Melting back into their mothers

Dissolving before fathers

Grandfather's back broken

To satisfy them all

Eclipsed by new sorrow

Bright as shattered glass

Don't you feel the worlds shudder?

The host is tired

He wants to rest eternally

While we all

Write The Question

We never ask

Nobody knows why

All our children are sick

Your body now
Is like an ancient ocean
Full of strange life
& unfamiliar motion
Call me to rest
Down in the silt & salt
Among the primal patterns
Of your skin
Images of light
Bring me across the ages
To a face that I have seen
One trillion times
In dreams
Of nowhere
And of now
Your chest is
Like a wildfire
Feeding on the dark
Bring me down
Into the badlands
Of your fists
Send me snaking
Up your shattered cliffs
I’m painted well
Around your spiral
Wear me like a chain
And I’ll find all the ways
To move along your collar
& roll your bones
Around my brain
All the cobras
Of your hair
Waiting to be known
Your own inventions
What is shown
Take me to the
Forests of your eyes
& bury me
Beneath the tree of vines

Though winking some would say sinking in sullen shambles
I'm soaring high charisma over well-strung words
Now shying backward into corners covered
Words arrange themselves on windows high & scatter outward
Some real potent **** -- a vague longing to be hurt
to be ****** fully and feel nothing
Tomorrow's roadshow is today's practice
I never believed anything
Now I struggle to convince impossible members
We arrange ourselves in imaginary vision
No one is who they think they are
& Even less is what they say
If I could truly expres
We'd all be painted pictures

They come
They leave
They seek reprieve
We need a sound and a light
To keep us conscious
Of whatever
I am conscious of something
There is a barrier

Young girl in black jeans
Glasses
Apron
And a fry cook
Battering Nova Scotia
Halibut on live television
I send a message to Adonai
Wyd?
He asks me if I will agree
To his new terms of service
Which makes me uneasy
He tells me Carl Jung
Wears his glasses in the void
He looks prophetic and exalted
With some black folks
Sitting at a corner table
While being interviewed
That’s amazing
She says
So cool
She says
That’s amazing

And if our eyes meet
For too long
We might know some
Secret truth
Which we make
No effort
To conceal
Are we already
In perfection?

The setting was stately

Overweight, stationary, smoking
she was totally content

unaware of the vibrations
which to me, were uncomfortable

television droned

I wished it were turned off, unplugged

But she did not know

She was dead to vibrations

After the final collapse of the old, transitory soul
& the resurrection of the void-wind nature's mouth

long after virtues are lost in a swirl of constant fluxing destruction which stabs the longing eyes

Tracing the lines of the invisible, unmistakable force of relation to that which is interpreted through the senses
& which creeps out of unrecalled dreams - the reinforced born-into mistake, set in stone language to seem holy

symbols to feel normal
- yet never seeking solace in instinct
or beaten down for sensing the eternal question

a pluck of the heartstrings to instigate confusion
to investigate breath, to regulate the settling of mercury within the vibrating dome of one single bleeding dollar
- stamped over the heel of Achilles

With good conscience beating the air - to celebrate the holy day that came from somewhere concocted over midnight's back

1 because one's not enough
2 because two's too many
3 because I'm feeling rather there already
4 because a number's just a name
5 because the universe is smiling
6 because in heaven there's no sound
7 because seven's got a sister
8 because Steven is the world
9 because to laugh is to go lightly
10 because eleven's gone too soon

A because a part of me is lonely
B because the freezer's halfway open
C because the dog looks at the highway
D because to die is to go freely
E because effort is tomorrow
F because to feel & **** & fortune
G because I can't predict where I'll see it
H because the parking meter's dry again
I because I am a little lonesome
J because I am trying on a new one
K because calamity is fuller
L because it brings you where it will
M because the carnival is better
N because the clowns have always wondered
O because the watcher's in the rafters
P because potato garlic soup
Q because questioning is laughter
R because regret is faking feelings
S because to stare is to envision
U because the universe is hungry
V because viola! I am mistaken!
W because wondering is wet now
X because excitement leaves me stuck there
Y because Yvette is everlasting & ******
Z because Zenebal Ganoobi

The process eternal
writhes on and on as endless organism
& is unknowable unfolding
of yet-to-be-known reflections of past
presented as myriad forms
all somehow me
all somehow mind
thought-born love
beauty eternal yet
harboring menacing laughter
somehow all corresponds
it is unclear yet simple
unknowable yet obvious
waiting to be seen

The was no joy in her dance
As she spun around the pole
Hips like icebergs
Carving up the scenery
Thick with
Ammonia and bleach
She wore
Black lipstick
Underwear and eyeliner
Like a wounded dog
Eyes sunk into a marsh
Looking out at nothing
As I sit and watch
Her loveless display
And wonder
Why she can’t be
What I picture
In my mind
Her *** is like a
Tiny sun
Swaying in the void
Warping gravity
Bending light
Fixing gazes
Earning dollars
I want to
Take her arms apart
And build her
A blue island
There is no one else
But me
Watching her
Loving her
With museum love
The way you love a
Picture
Or a concept
Knowing full well
What it isn’t

In the dining hall
The men are fed
Each one staring
At the other's bread
Each one wishing
He had said
That which lived
In the other's head
No more time
And no more sound
Each one's eyeballs
Moving 'round
The meal is set
Their mouths grow wet
They gorge themselves on tender meat
Each one grows heavy in his seat
The sailors pay
A heavy toll
For that which they put in their bowl
A little meat
A little fish
Each man anchored
To his dish
Each one feeling
He's done well
When answering
The dinner bell
The meal is earned
The supper's bought
And each man sitting there
Thought not
They'd any more
Than they deserved

The Stranger's at the door
I am not sure anymore
Please forgive me
I am afraid

the way out now
is only through the dawning
of the darker dream
the twisting of the spiral to
an indeterminable point
the realization of a magic balance
whereby opposites are well
positioned though never gaining
sight of one another

doomed to drift in undulating
furies ever further from themselves
never to escape
the way out now
is through the collapsing
kaleidoscopic  door of time
the biological rhythm of a
living universe whose name
is indecipherable except
is on the tongue of each and every
hungry soul who's ever tasted language

When was the last time you cried over your mother
We're all mothers and bums
stranded on our own street corners
w/grim looks/jaundice eyes
waiting for recognition
something to happen
Everything flowing past
Cars following cars out of town
Into the house-up the driveway
Into a parking lot
A drive-thru next to a dumpster
We can have everything we want
If we cease wanting everything
Belief is half the struggle
In this effort of completion
Can you feel the weight of things?
Here as they are
As they have always been and always will be
It's just us
You've got something on your mind
Something you're not saying
but there isn't much time left to say it
And it'd make all of the difference

this love is now & new & once again
stabbing @ me like durga-like diety
with sweet golden daggers
an essential togetherness
teasing out of these odd surroundings
I was listening to Jack Kerouac on the way
home in his mad
bop rhapsody apocalypse
streaming out my speakers
while familiar streets crawl past
once again
I'm thinking
as the day old glum spread over me
& out to envelop all I see
how little different to be watching
seeing street signs all opening
into cul-de-sacs and open storefronts
paraded in the endless traffic flow
now bent slow over
feeding my cat crab cakes
that my mother made
myow myow, he goes
& I acknowledge
myow myow, he goes
& I answer
what?
what in god's name is
the matter with you?
myow myow
his solemn reply
licking @ a piece of
exposed claw meat
nestled among old bits
of dry brown kibble
how about this soul?
how about this life?
this sickness?
how about this always seeking I?
how about he music of my mind
in untraceable car rides alone?
wherefore to I wander
ceaselessly in search of what
wonders where I might be
born on the road of least descent
cat paws, grabs @ bottle caps on
grained wood table
my media
fizzles & searchlights
in my window
there is something I'm not facing
something inescapable, my love
like you
born of locusts in the dust, my love
like you
my weary dune-mother
how solemn are the tunes that run
thy face, o' mother and thy will
how broken are the lines upon thine
shining brow in bedroom windows
open to the world like peace
stolen in the sad glance I gaze @ everything
stolen is the cup I fill @ leaking kitchen
sink pipe strands of scent or bark
of neighbor dogs amusing grass flow
weather flowers under well I'm never
knowing what--I never will
no matter, all is well
another's all is nothing now
where knock goes streaming
crashing loud
like anvils in the rain
it's only me
how now, my dear contender?
like a shadow fallen into sound
how now the planets unwatered?
how now the roots are killed?
we all inhabit the same fears
how rabbit hides his smear
to give me a surprise
for me, none so dear
than the mystery
& April dies today

The stench of stale tobacco
Has seeped into the plaster
In the time since my departure
The oven needs a washing
Noodle bits hang on the burner like time clings to itself
& memories unrelenting haunt me as I walk the hall
Where claws tore holes in carpet leading to your room
Where the bushes outside your window erupted under an unnatural sky
In the summer getting drunk on heat
Springtime turning into winter’s bones where banks of snow were catapulting
Cars in slow motion volleys of thought which showed
Something unutterable in their stillness
Hot tea shoveling that white Indian
Headdress of yours I found
Hung on the broken oil lamp now busted by some drunkard
As the springtime turned into windows
Sheltered neighbors in the spray-painted garage
And you never swept the floor
In the morning the cat would make it known
That he was only animal seeking freedom of the soul
And in time he and I would yowl in unison
Deliberately writing off those subtle energies
Too difficult to define in images
Met me halfway in the garden
Where your weeds and roses twist
With your hedges overgrown
& the grassy clover crickets
Uncut all year long
I want to clean your dishes
I want to sweep your floor
I want to vacuum up the crumbs we both left on the floor
I want to scrub the toilet and the sink
I want the smell of Lysol in my pores
I want the bleach to **** the mildew
I want to cultivate a habit
I want you to let me get to work
But you refuse my offer
As you light another smoke
& throw the pack to the floor
Your ash tray is overflowing

I don’t know where to start

**** air eyes words soul like new world silent sky faces death food humor home  space children regarding deep holy thought joy left slowly stars dismissed untitled attitudes endless cast lights dead known broken moment

he didn't understand
the technology
he had nothing
in his head
the night was
draped in fog
there was a
neon sign
it felt like
a dream

To reveal a face
Is to disrupt
The gentle slow roll barrage
To show a concealed instant
The mask dies away
In old growth misery decay
When hair & belly
Like a costume folding
United with unknown cause
Who has invented
The receding plaster
Mindful eyes
Wet portraiture
Individualized
Self-conscious stranger
You are  a repetition
And a contradiction
Cells bloom like
Palm patterns
Maps limited in form
Without whatever
Mimics Henrietta
To intrusions
Conscientious tales
Who told from
Up on great heights
No reason to imagine
A resistance
Painful recreation
Sell me your blind light
I call you out of mine

everybody smart
everyone unwise
nobody sees the light
I'm hiding in my eyes

the eyeball is extinct
there will be no more
absolutes
the dim power of the swamp
is poised in
regurgitation
red meat and alcohol
give birth to a vicious
canine *******
that is also lovable
& obscene

Indian moccasins
with the laces
half-removed
flat as flat is
flitters
I cannot walk in these
I tell myself
these smell like
cat ****
I throw them out
& wonder
about them heavy Indians

this is one unique
property of doubt
the restless resignation
to endless regression
I want to crawl into a
vast, silent womb
and strip away
the human