don't worry.i can guarantee
that if they where handing out participation trophies
  to humanity

you wouldn't get one

/who the helll are you/

and the reply came :
/a problem you may not fully be able to solve./


the repeater traffic
went
fuzzy
and
warm.

the people are going crazy because they are afraid
/bring the axe, you stupid *****/

i want to skin the wilderness off the rasp in your voice

our legs are good.
but we are going nowhere.


the curve of your forehead is sloping away from us,
the ugly gems of sweat are suiciding off of it_
and
the sun is beating down.

through a carpet of skintight stares : shoes untied and slipping.
combing though it all
cowboyly

it's time to go home,
she says.




*ok,

offered
with
this
legal tender love

(when i was young)
she would take a pair of rolled up socks from my parents' room and
bring them around with her, in her mouth.
in the dead of night- or when she thought no-one was home,

she'd set them down on the bathroom floor and meow long, sad calls
(out)into the stillness

[i wondered if she remembered her mother.]

before i was born, my uncle found a kitten outside, meowing.
as i grew, i learned more from her than anyone.

(i am now older than she ever was,
which had seemed impossible at the time.    she had always seemed
infinite.)

i am the doe-eyed and
mop-hung. dripping dry in forests of dull pilgrims
the shirt rubs on the belly,
damaging the pale skin-scape for the 1/2 hour session.
we need the vigilance now
look away and i

grey-same to glass

you,
dulcet lung.
photo-smooth
laying down, pine-black
in my fluffy gun sights

everytime you blink the river bank drowns another inch.
your shoe is gone
and it's coming for the rest of us.

it is happy with itself _

the wifi is out and we are being ****** away

he, white slice of fingernail
he, like  splinters

the way the light reaches

the free jazz of other peoples' suns colliding out there-
freezing against
                         my low cheeked
                         face

standing cold and dumb in
      december's hairline    _
(the )moon, as thin as skin   .
and i, thinner

Forever yester-ling, we will not
Bathe above the sea -
Nor where the light spreads its long fingers in first inquiry of future mornings

The mountain’s root
Will be hollowed out before
We are found

And we shall drown in still tomorrows
Before
News of us comes


Silent, somewhere
Between the front facing earth
And the
Peridot      stew.

_
the
      dogs roam around in the yard
(still)looking for you

they find nothing but eachother
                               and thats how.




the house plants are drying
                       or stay too wet


there's never any middle ground (with them).


you cease to be
today


like drying vowels out in my mouth before speaking.

++
like waking up with the window left open.

each wink you left behind
     tilts back to let light and air into the

throat.

what are you about that I'm that I'm that the only jacket at the way you are continuing. want me to advocate in the bathroom window while I'm about to for a for a I'm not sure not sure going to be able.  

buy.
  have not talked values and the typos became more than my blastoise

c.

there are no white
chalk portraits on the wall like we used to
draw : bukowski, haruhi, and the ghost
line symbols.
but it's
the same orange vespa-knockoff sitting
on
the other side of the fence -
thesame withered brambles reaching out
beside the train tracks and dripping with water that
will
soon freeze. and bend them down to the
brown . earth . .
i am bowing too, .

w/out reverence
w/out  hitting the cue


i mark where i stood in microscopic pieces
of the bottoms of my shoes only
i go unheeded .as of yet

it will be
  the same as not at all .for most


these mornings are
  Flowers.

tangle like reasons.upon the hoary
forest floor.as pad-turned feet
s w e e p
across the
carpeted multitude of soft
spines discarded beneath us
/
/and until better shelters are found
/
these low hanging boughs swing like the
uncrossing of legs:and we are left shimmeringintheslimymoonlight

we
race.against the wheeling constellation-
fragment as it penetrates
the wind-caught canopy, engulfing us_and
we dare it to
tumble
down
like
a
prophesy upon our dream-concussed heads.



webs of sinew.trailing between our
teethy=mouths

like a trap for the
world.


like a hope-nest hunt.

and the rolling drums in yet deeper places
   gun down the
Night

i am waking up later
and the trash trucks are coming earlier
on trashday

and
it adds insult to injury to watch them roll away slowly
to the house nextdoor

7:20am on a tuesday,
knowing that it'sstarting again

a fat clump of hair jabs at the left eye with the sharp wet tip of the curl as the head slides backwards and the neck, to the side

i met the aging father of an ex-friend in a park.
he had a large bicycle with him

they were always riding bicycles, the whole family.
healthy living. watching less tv. reading more books. doing sports.
he was sitting on a bench
i had recognized him- and in spirit of better days and holding no
illwill,i approached .
we got to talking
and it got to why his son and i had drifted apart all those years ago
i don't think he ever knew the whole story.
i replied with nothing too specific
but later thought about it more .
i decided that
he got tired of the loser's table and i was still content for a bit longer
and yet, to this day, i have never thrown someone’s fish out the bus

window .

The white fur stands on edge. tufted with peanut butter
And caught round the ring .

Creaking  like shifting weight over linoleum feet.
Back and forth like hips ,
Indecisive
In their balance.


Matted into layers like stones and soil
being excavated to find
fossil evidence  of lives lost
To
Changes

Keys in the loops
Pushed down into glass jars
Amidst pennies and ash
Chair legs creak and crack over breakfast
And
Conversations of
Time


Jacket on the hook ,
Pockets turned out in careless artform .
proof of
Man’s final triumph over
god
And the lasting power of
Mistakes
It’s a shame you don’t see the legs still kicking in place
Treading water
Trendy in the fake struggles
Getting claws caught in sweater sleeves and
Untwisting each yarn

Like poisoning the minutes against each other.
Like posing in a photograph we won’t share.
Like sharing blood.

Charging wires tremble in icy dry venue
As
The windows fog over like cooking in the kitchen in January.
It is enough to remember harder.
Or want to

Its enough to sell sell sell
I break promises over
Breakfast.
I
Th
I
Nk
I am happier
than
Many other m n
I think I waas
Better off than .that

I woke up to the radio on but nothing playing
I ,
Man’s final artform
I













Or the

You

you have that look in your eyes like the heat death of the universe
i can see it building out into an absolute
springtime.
i may not be able to understand
but i will see that look in your eyes
and know its like leaving home for good

sake in the kitchen.
peace and control  .  
   my body decomposing over a slice of bread

learning to see people as objects
pinching together the corners of pages.with nails that need to be
trimmed

scrolling through  screen
girls skinny in their dresses

folding down
with
[waists that are really waisting]

There are things crawling on the ceiling in August
There are bellies heaving in and out

There are faces  pinker than fingernails in August
There are gods and the dying

I am standing in the hallway in August
I am not a god


You liken me to the inside of drawers in August
You shut me and
You line me with  plastic  fabrics

You fill me with silverware and
You disarrange
[.     With courage. ]

Animal skull mouth
Bride to loneliness
Upon cliff top watch
I return to you

From the sea
From the sea

From me, I see
I see.

If you brew the perfect cup of tea each time
By taking the exact temperature of the water,
And measuring out the powder,
It ceases to be perfect.
It ceases to be anything at all.

+




its
convenient. the way you stare back
+

i hold harnesses tied from knots of your clothing   . my
fingers are hemp
strands and
you              are weaving more

chordate . wet

dancing, evermingled with
[his enzymes]
you
swept ,,


you let me  past the corners of your hair.

1’ve been searching
In thrift stores and on eBay
For the kinds of windbreakers that were cool when I was
Little

I get to wear them now
And I know how

I pierced my ear a few years ago.
I did it myself with a hollow point needle
Slowly
But deliberately

And it was good.

I wear an earring everyday
To remind myself that I’m not
Dead
Yet. And it was something I wanted to do but never got around to it.

I’ve been
Making sure that I never stop
Growing.

I wilt like nothing  you’ve ever seen
In stagnation.

But I think the dog spit out her medicine tonight

I found it on the old hardwood
With tongue worn uncertainty

No dose must be better
Than double dose

With a custody so
Precious.

So I will hope she rests safely
Through the
Soft
Night.

And the late dinner can of minestrone in my
Grandmother’s last sauce ***
Smells like a lost thought of
Home

Home is
Something
I’ve been working very hard to
Dial-in.


My love
Is a pine-green toaster covered in
Crumbs.


And you
Are the bread I tried to bake from
Scratch
But I forgot to feed the wild yeast starter and landed with
Mold.

This time,
I will give
Thanks
To each pea and
Carrot
In my
Broth

for just a [world’s-ending] longer

and the sand ripples with approach / in a story about the origins of a land



Possession v. Belonging/ left in the stairwell


an unclaimed thing : the nature of pantheon, revealed.

ea dark hair        rests
like mud thrown against the  pale skin   .ribs are counted down the
back as
i trace the spine to its source
shoulders, cloven          into the
bilateral symmetry
               of that line [like any high eukaryote]

sides like tar, stained with wet curls
wrapped around and stikking tight like
the                          tentacles
of something
deeper                   reaching .

knees and knuckles
pink w/ youth and .   hurt
and isnt it good to know we can
still scrape something [good]

like bangs across our eyes. like pockets
being played with instead of
looking forward- face front
my eyes, lunge around- across
rays of dust._dead sharp floaters
in a sea of stuffy air

let me learn you like legs
(i notice) under my                         sweatshirt.
                                    pine green

up to
a mouthy gauze-
a minnow's fate-
a dawnless gurgling-
Minoa-
skin caught in the zipper-
someone else's house-
melatonin-
outdated documentaries-
spilled -
actual bronze-
plexiglass tables-
vocaloid

where morgoths and mongrels
i misss my monsters
thrown lead (sculptures)in the shape of you
scripture breaking off where you
ransomed
beggars cant be choosers but killers can get you
if they want

caught top



World holder!

the lenths at wich pragmatist go to **** eachother
you make getting offended an art form, all the while calling out others as you please

is

the instant she opened the front door   .   it hit me.
i was about to blurt out the usual, dont let Chava out
i swallowed the words
Chava was behind me in the car that had just began to pull away.
inside, there was no cat.

later i found myself, conscious of my own lap in a way that knew it was empty.

[the corners of my eyes deceive me around the passing of each threshold ]

In this age of instant gratification and expanding hive mind at our fingertips,
A 2D projection of the whole world is turning into one location .
These are the purest forms -
Untortured by corporeality .
These are the shadows at the back of the cave, if ever there has been .

With all of this here to observe and ponder ,
It would be disservice to ignore the nature of these tools -
This evolving human state

Man
Made
Man

And
The making has never yet
Stopped .

We may yet falter at the edge of the colliding tectonics /
Be crushed by nascent peaks /
Be swallowed by the sundering seas and cast into new abyssal reach

We may yet
Break apart into scattered pieces
At the cusp of escape velocity /
Disintegrate into nothing more than a debris cloud /
Serve only as a dusty web of obstruction for others who may come later to bat

We may
Become a spiteful
Net
That’s wrapping around the globe and the greatest artifact of all of our failures -
Ugly poltergeists looking only to hold back the light /
We may seek others only to
bring them down to our level, such that our memory doesn’t
Get
Left behind.


Or
we may hone a deeper focus
And a wider gaze of what Home really means


We seem to be afraid of knowing -
Of being .
We numb ourselves into perfectly manicured stupors ,
Cast roles for ourselves and the rest of the world such as to frame ourselves as victims of our very existence

How are we to know without knowing?
How are we to decide where to step without map of our footfalls?

If ignorance is bliss -
Then omnipotence must be a more supreme form of
Agony
Than felt ever before.

Yet here we find ourselves
Wanting both :
Seats at the pantheon - and also the kind of
Guidance
Offered to children.

Many
Demand it, even.
Demand everything.

What lowest common denominator
Will define us?

Shall we slumber
Ever
Again?
Shall we deserve to?

How will we recognize and be
Recognized?


How will we love?
Who will be worthy of such love?
Who will we dare to say are truly unworthy?


How much time do we have left to
Decide?











Here.
Now.
We.

Winter is a string
Plucked and vibrating sharply against the skin pan
Of my head
Like branches I bend,
Young enough still.  to yield pliably
Under the burden
Of snow.
The ashen sun   rises like dust .   about the windowsill
We trace the paths they draw    in particles and movement,

My face tightens around my bones
Drinking collagen  from the exposure
And learning

Cozy between layers
In the history of the world

Steaming as breath around the mouths  of
Rivers,
Not yet sleeping
Not yet filling the spaces with
Me

You must know the discomfort inside and out.

You must be a self-smith ,
And harness the immense power of knowing yourself in a mostly honest way.

pure living
is cereal for lunch.
one bowl
one spoon
in the sink,
and thats it

no
better muse
.

sparks fly off the 3rd rail   .like
winking at the mole-men
          you tighten your belt and      lean a pink ear
on the wall

august comes and goes
in a hop-along head

clock-breath .heaving like the         earth
and dust in sunlight
\

pay me only in these small, barricaded places_

as we glint like
discarded
             bottle-corpses
along the woody
edge.

pad-traps
      for
perimeter-pointing
   hounds ,
  let loose
  under the

dark-foot gauze of the
     equinox night.


vessel-hearted :
     known to have contained

beloved ghost of
       a land
       before
       fence-land .


yet solid as
              the
          moon .

like an oily thumb .tracing
pink lines across a bright white
leg
like a dry tiger.

like youth and destruction in-side an aging murderer's  head

                                               ­                        -like




                          and oh!
                           **here comes a tune fromlong ago

the greedy void hurries away precious, hoarded vapors into a quietly latched  chest    

     full of hours. days. weak-knee, stormfront months and whispered lore of the return of canopy cover to the pewter forest .

the same paths traced out with each rut in the road lines
a cycle of scars in the world like the thirsty, reaching tendrils of a dry riverbed

the skin bunched across my finger bones
splits open.in pious sacrifice to the nascent frost



pebbled gully,
shambled stone hands trying to hold up the
wholething

how do right things get
done_



a  calling card
comes
home.  the mouth of a dollhouse.

a department store with all the lights turned
off.  

the sound of splashing without
source .oh, what  
mud
we
    might     have
       been.

if you die - gilt bronze colossus :
                chinese take-out
                  chicken fingers
                  box open
right in the middle of town.


everyone will know, what
you knew

their breath is pop music you can't have.
we know about it

the art is in the attitude. it's what's giving us away

where did these virtues come from?


peace beside your thought, nation
god is a Gun.
so what is Man?

shame to isolate them
fear to motivate them
love to move them as necessary .



power likes
predictability .

and big prediction breeds power.

self preservation
is an afterthought.
,talk about faces like you talk about an unexpected weather pattern.
it's really clearing up (now)

8 mouses high
i jump

you let it go to my head. like
hunger.
beside alligator jaws
[and just
          as
   simple]

beneath the weight of imaginary *******

mouth
dumb

filter sponge

you,
exposed gums.
tooth picker.
saline rinse.

Was what this nation is told to have been founded upon

The Secular pursuit of reason, self determination,
And the triumph of the human mind
Over dogma and the disparities of false witness

Your god died long ago
You seek only to resurrect
Suffering  

Don’t misdirect my words
Just because to lie to yourself, unable to see yourself as you are-

You are blind to the obvious consequences of your actions

And for that you have my pity and hate.

Yet, the pity grows ever weaker

It doesn’t rain the way it used to rain any more.
And it doesn’t really snow either

(Insert office scene)
( insert childhood)

I am changed
And everything I had is
Gone .



**

[
The sounds outside my windows]

like lightning in the pines   ,
the scales shaved off of each seed-head
by the threat of my
booming  _  voice

like headlights in the road
near misses and
dogs running free

like finger hairs
*****

and the songs are as hungry
as their calibers
allow.

.for all the fires i’ve put out
.for those i’ve failed to
.for the embers that i will never seek to extinguish


.for _