oh, to be young

she kissed me with the entirety of art contained within an unpopular pop-song
utterly graceless in the afternoon.
there was something.
it was not necessarily good

the soft of your father's breath decaying inside you has suffered through us
staying up at night-
trying to

long enough.

yet somewhere
in
the meat between your marrows and tomorrow: we were not good enough to
get it.
and all the vulgarity of every single tear shed in your name
failed to be censored.

you cared more for the ****** little
soccermoms
murmuring in the background to cement the violence of
their mediocrity. i stopped it there-
no one left to call me out, they found me.
but
i have eyelashes that walk across the sides of your face, better than anyone.
and
we held if off for just
one more
but- there will be other times
and they are waiting for you to drop your guard
and sail into them
with lids closed and
fluttering.

as i cast a spell into the gap between the
knucklebones of your toes.we
dangle before

fetishists like raptors

a little too costumey for you to hold me
well

******* ****** toothbrushes to encourage
their
*** of pink
foam into the basin of the sink.reaching
down
the gullet of the drain.my

eyes rinse  past you

in hopes that my blasphemy
will be
as beautiful as yours

though i sort each hair on your head one-
by-one.across my
satyr
lips

in
crepuscular finality


.

it mattered.

It’s eat or be eaten. Beat or be beaten. And I’m not on to lose
And I came out with a buzz/cut and a badge

Lookin to bash in some soft heads.
And later in bed, I look to the ceiling and think
how lucky I am to be good.

tryptapath


her dark irises
fill with light


but that’s not
what i mean

fact-based decision making /
the inherent , long-term kindness of truth .
the patience to seek it , regardless of popular opinion or ad campaign /
the inherent cruelty of averages and crowds /
the willingness to build wings /
the bravery to use them /

the hubris to use them unglamorously .

the tower , the fall , and the sea .
the illusory virtue of the inventor’s son :
the illusory personal value-add in possessing unearned, inherited things .
virtually, anything you want .
anything you want, virtual .

the perceived magical nature of wisdom /
the failure to pattern /
real math using false measurements /
real harm using falsehoods against the world .
the failure to achieve mastery on the first day /
the persistence to achieve mastery .

you can do good things_

my burden is the way you hold me harder than i, you.
and so it goes as
the big dumb line of the sun cradling the edge of your face turns red-

blushing
at the forgotten incantation.
it pauses there for a moment before flitting back into shadowy chasm of laughter- roaring deep with the bile saved up here and there, and collected from songs about the loveliness of
women
i'm thinking on this.
it moves.

slipping off of her like the arm of a relative at a funeral parlor.
sailing close to her body like the evaporated milk that comes stumbling out.
these years in retrograde lay waste to our whinings.
they place bets against us, odd-ball us out of the cafeteria line-up

with the styrofoam trays still clasped between our ******* and the rail. >>

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.

That’s all it is.
The most fundamental form of communication
Boils down to dichotomy :
This or That

It’s the only Real language .


Yes and no ,

Drum and silence.


Beat
     patterns into the veil of the night
The
     Moon. Is.
  Watching      .






                        .







       ­                 .

tread down pathways on your
tongue
like runoff from the
hillside // the drips are
dancers of casualty towards a promise of restfulness at the
Bottom

no more potential to fall from .
no more
mountains //

we,
gullet-bound into the.flooded
gully


the vision of peaks to either
  side
bound to other
rules,and to

eachother;

mountain-breath_calling

you, soidal
like a wave that comes creeping
under my cages.
covers.
and the hairs in your ear.  stand still enough so as not to get caught-
in empathy
under a reaming sleep.
i tricked you into going for a ride while the roads were still wet.
there, nothing left to do.
and i,
the lisping slit filled to a two fingered fist.
front feet dragging
across
the threads of a plastic
waterbottle mouth.
            the
bullet passed through.
wetpennies.numb-deep in the lungs
the slippery film of a chewable vitamin still clinging under molars.
socks slipping down into the toes
the air swept aside into a new season, lips flared
a weekday in the back seat

and when i sweat
i check the threat
of thunder storms on my weather app.
and it calls out to us:
                   have an awesome day and a fabulous weekend
have an awesome day and a fabulous weekend
don'tfuckwithourhearts
don't let me down
hold on to it.
don't go believing in better things

and in and around the ocean, i need a fake friend
now

repeat it back to me.
fix all my mistakes.
**** me at the right time.
kick me in the skin cells
keep me.
itching at the skin

there are soft little pieces of forever shoved into the corners of your teeth
on the granite slabs of mountainous look-outs,
you sharpen
long walking sticks from boughs of fragrant juniper.
and forget to pass the small berries to the birds that like them

its been a long time

wicking out the passion from moments that will out live us.
and trying to understand the fine pulverized sand in the fissures:
spreading out like veins across boulders that support
the weight.
our bodies-
carefully outlining the places where silent embryos come apart,

dragging the backs of our fingernails across the green-grey stone with open palms
to catch the stardust we
think
tumbles out of the ether-

casting off all of my anger.  as i watch the tiny
flecks of destiny caught in the tips of your eyelashes as they close-
and the greatest tragedy of all,

as the blue becomes blue.
this (and only this)-
no one to share the view

they do everything they can
to remove love
from Man’s life

why has the brink
always been
the
Muse.

Muses now.
Muses, now!

Pantheon ,
Panther,
Points in your name.

Power in your name.

hair in faCe-

lids, part covered over like gauze on a wound

as your zipper eyes are caught in my [ shirt]
3/4s of the way down

a metallic taste
like ******* on a cashier's finger-[tips]

the sandpaper strips at the edge of each stair
as  your head tilts . like
a broken PA speaker on a subway car
pushing static like a jazz drummer

art blakey and the
hiss.

superrich .  call they say,
                      savory as
sputnik sounds through hamradios
in every other basement
in a time [and place]where things are still
in bed

and when you can't close the door hard enough
i am the sharp-ribbed man under the bed
that wants to touch you
and through all the sheets that wrap around you
i can still feel you
with my
fifteen fragile fingertips there's nothing to understand there is only to listen. or try to ignore
and you swear you can hear my shallow breathing
my slender arms bristle for sensation
your slender body
twisted into blankets
i must take away

☆
against the ugly light of a brand new
day. we
take comfort in the bruises on our
future bellies
.
my youthquake comes to a theater near
you  
in whitebreakers of overeducated hooves blustering forward without pleasure

and.in recycled boyhoods bandaged together in
peanutbutterhaste

i can_


.
advocate for me on your sly plunge into
Helios
swanlike and stumbling.

solution is
calling


i am unmaker of your radiotheist fire.


wrapt  up in your eternal parka like fishing net for rare creatures.blushing


it brings peace as i eradicate all sense of fashion.pulling on the uneven strings of the hood like a
God
for better people (than you)

i discount you in this poem and amid other things where
1 1 7 55 47 40 30 10
.


i crack open the cocoons you retreat
to
for
respite
like a
pre-dinner platter.washing my hands
in the crumbs
of your
falling cornmeal
bones.

(as)you
get caught
in the depression left  in my wallet when i
get up

to walk away

trembling-
fabulous as
bowie
's
ghost


doing you the most glorious harm.

"do you believe in madness?"
i whispered in the dark, half afraid of a reply.
"yes,"
trembled from her lips,
"but this it not it."
i say her lips trembled but in truth i could not see her face. perhaps it was i who was trembling, but if only in my imagination i could of sworn, she was trembling too.
the walls pushed forcibly on my chest and spine each time i inhaled

each mouthful of still air pressed me to the sides as a harsh reminder that the passage was only barely wide enough for us to walk through sideways, shoulder to shoulder, scraping our skin as we went.
i'm not sure how much time had passed
not much had changed
since the last word had been spoken out-loud

i had begun again to forget what words felt like,
both on the lips and upon softing the delicate hairs of the inner ear
all i could know was the dark, and my breathing, and her breathing.  and i begun to wonder if she was breathing at all,
of if the fainter, more distant breaths-  were not just echoes of my own.
had i gone mad. was i truly alone. no companion. no accomplice. just an invention of my lonely silence.
was it days that had been passing. or were they weeks.

perhaps just a few hours, and my sense of brooding, too dark.

Amsterdamiss is
typing into an internet comment section:_

but she's gone.
by the look of her little square
picture.
Her blip in the fetish
It's a costume
leaking through the build up for it>gumming up each pixel> disappointing us.
and don't forget      
          to bite down
when you' chewing gum.
or just scraping something historic from the front of a nicely shaped
building

our fingers
are
red
as the blood flowing through the veins of our revisionist
history.america
can ******* babe.
we are exceptional.


and they're showing it on the disney channel  
and out in the street-like folds that peel out doing at least
45
without looking
on the places on my body.
if you
scroll down, some kid calls her a ******.
but i'll let you hate me
if you want to. as i correct the dead smile of the news reporter.as she
feeds some sort of loaded question into the
screen
like: "you just have to thank god at times like these, don't ya?"

.
"it really is a miracle, isn't it?"
as we stand
in front of the fire that's taking just about everything.
in front of the shot-up restaurant.
in front of my shaking hands.


******* savages
all of 'em

it's the middle of the night, babe.
don't you have anything better left to say to me?
at least
give me something to feel shame about.
it's coming
down
to you.

     -
I say something mean.


not yourbabe. might be your babe.
**** like a snapback-
Melfina tilts her head back
i'm garbage

with a fresh grasspour
fade to green,  as the sun beats us senseless .with shotgun shells from the center of orbit
to breathe as this. as the saltwater beads up around the
little wrinkle of her
nose.
she can save us.

but
there's nobody to hold your love for you, when you're too ****** to grip it.

  _/ _
\       /
/   ^  \here's a lucky star for you, babe- you're gunna need it, here at the center of it all.

.(
(
swing like flower vines in the
sea-breeze face of the
cliffside

your hair
sells dancing glimpses of ancient
memory
there .

the shimmer-sailed ships
leave
the shore / /

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

master of virtues no longer called for.
master of virtues not yet called for.

a hero with 1,000 faces
fights a faceless monster
in a field of ruin    and
  beyond observation

caught like a row of
selenium pillars holding up a
prism
earth

encrusted in
skittering moments w/o time

heaving a blade
into
salt-silt flickering slit

([]}        (  •. )         _

rather than wait for the worms to spit out our formaldehyde soaked flesh /
when you hear the
Hum,
make the new jazz interval
//


thought monger.
steeped in the sabbatical

eroded
love ///


a
roundtable :
without the
mirrored
orb

a
pantheon of
thinly veiled
veils


a
waking need.

With triplets
Drinks water from the
Faucet

There are things to care about
Left.

Fighting to stay alive .

lay not in the grasses- for the listing of the world(s)


wash the backs of your knees

prethunderstorm, arm-deep into the buoyant ions
wet molars      slipping backwards         drying out
girls running track
(in and around buildings)
>throwing up everyday

acid backs of teeth decaying me.
like the mold on the white windowsill-
out in open airs
the film you think might be just
dirt.
like the unexplained black things under your fingernail anatomies

like grabbing the wrong towel

putting on a clean t-shirt
a necklace clasp caught in the back of your hair.      cutting it

gentle and godless
head-damp in the big nowhere
like an out-patient gun   waiting to send its children home





/

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

you wouldn't get one

beats us senseless as it beats off .

******* all the wilderness out of the world.

everlasting.the
wellknown mystery at the
door

again

i'd like you best wrapped up under the axles of my truck
but i'd rather not have to pay your brother to clean it up.
get the **** out of my home town
your driving the real estate value down.

in other words:
go back where you came from.

we don't
need that liberal faggy ****
i'm a man.
i'm a man.
i'm a man.

but i love the way my baby looks in that white summer dress caught around the warm summer air,
with flowers tangled up in her hair.
and the amber sun looks good in her eyes
i'm a man.

**** a ******, stab a ***
make my granddaddy proud.
love my baby, she's WASP like me
we're gunna start a family.
i **** her good, god gave me seed
you know i sow it as i please.
ultimately-
i'm good.

got a gun, bring it to school
always with me. i know i'm cool-
in case i need to get those sunni-shiite *****;  
shoot my teacher if i fail a test.

it's okay.i'm cowboy.
i'm good.

jesus loves me, he told me so.
******* Hey-Zeus, he mows my lawn.
-be ****** if i let them use the good bathroom  
it's all right they'll be deported soon.
and it's good.  

back in the city, jesus-  girls' ******* drop.
filthy ***** and cherries to pop.
but blondie looks good.

follow her home. i'm a really nice guy.
don't understand what made her cry.
just keep
*******
her anyways.

feminazi ******* wanna blame me
there just mad that they're ugly
jealous of my success
there all just ***** anyway.
*******.

and all those ***** livin' off the government's dime
handout *******. all of them should just die.
time to rise up
time to be
family man.
i.

oh, i'm a
good ol' boy,
i'm good.
(you know i'd **** you if i knew i could.)

but i love the way
my baby looks in that white summer dress caught up in the ******* air,
with flowers -like a promise- all in her hair.

the wind shakes the windows in their dressings like a child trying to wake its dead mother . you touch my face with the back of your hand, soft as the things that will be tanned in the slurry of our boiled- brains .      there is a clank from the cast radiator that     musters courage      up from floorboards below .   the mice run
scared.
your brow is deerskin that is pulled formfitting across my    dry,
      cupped           fingers
it wants small holes put in it as it                                      wears
suppler
into
a look
just
like kissing wool

the
heather inside the layers
that get put on-


wicking off like collagen

as the wintry madness finds us

the smell of hemp rope
in a storage closet.
running around church basements- irreverent of upstairs.
small fires in the parking lot to prove we could.
small ****
behind card covers inside our heads.

7% eden.one part broken universe
android 1992
true
tears of the maiden

bionic metatarsals
perch of the harpy

home inside the Holocene

hey,prophecy-breaker, be cool.

the shame sits on the belly like the opposite of adequacy. in the yard, shirt open and tanning,  the last few years have done poorly in this respect. down- hill since the incident with the knee
and the subsequent dormancy of the legs that used to go
everywhere.
i think
burning here feels right.

.

its amazing what bodies can be

from one moment to the next






























.

even now,
in the city of your keeping. pillars are erected in the name of those rings that drag across the pads of your fragile fingertips
and in the valley places, we break your hands.
i carry you around in dark tepid forests
and in the wet parts of your lungs-
we dine.
and in the outer ocean
where the lovely bundles of sinew inside your calves curl around each other to keep warm-
we force out our cries.
we gunned down our best chances.
we built upwards towards the sky.

i came to the tower when they went to worship the origin of dead
laptop fans
we want the hum like planes going by ready to drop bombs on babies-
balm of the backs of your hands-
a short- sharp, shifting weight. like the memory of a mother's dress
a weeping, like others before.
and even now,
i dilate down to your size.
i find ways of getting through to you.
i strangle out the folds in my skin.
there, lost bodies convulse to freejazz as the ship fails to come back down.
and the little black dots behind your knuckles shimmer on your bones.

for tom, ill in heaven.
not normal
hive life.
fin, lone mortal hive.
(*** fine lone mortal.)
if he love mortal inn,
non-mortal if he live.

/.                    /.                    /.    
Beside the comb-prong fingers ,
Bristle-skinned searchparty ,
Moon mounted
Pillow rider

True face
Throne

Horn-headed for
Elk meat, where it seeks
Home

twist, root-******
beneath the
warm soil of
the summertime

their teeth
scatter
like hopeless seedbeds for
a
fruitless, early harvest -
it's not summertime .

it's the heat-death of the
universe .

it's my\
ears

red and screaming
to be
hit with something

real.

And there it was-
I'll tell you all the truth you ask of me-
Let all of my hesitation- reservations- love-
Pass by unnoticed- unheeded- misheard-

Be it strange- or be it my aptitude towards the unholy,
Whether the soft touch of the willow-fed irises-
Or the half-life glare of nighthawks, posed aloof and aloft-
In full conscious awareness of their physicalities-
With willful composure- and heads turned just so.

Do you consider us family?
We are together, as humans.

We carry immense burden and responsibility.

Do you respect living things?
Have you ever looked at the Earth and seen it?

In the game of life and death, which side are you really on?



Think hard before you answer
                                                       .

with a haze that crosses me out like a lie on a check list
dawn walks into the room in post-rough-*******-aesthetic ,

packaged in japanese newspapers
that de-ray the windowbeams-
telescoping out into my space
and that of other hypnotees.  
dulcet to the sound of missile-fire
disperfection is her pose

and yet,
springtime is a shedable love

is a scale-less basin for memory
sebum goblet . bedside cup.
eyes are a
worldnet for sweeping.the
lost-aloft
and wing fold/ed
:things

Catch.
Catch.
Store.

like bugs on the windshield //
like the pesticide-genocide that hides that
History
from clouding
our road-bright
viiew  ever again.

pretty
skin on the screen

pretty much ***** the real
away.

Dishrag.heart
Heads back,
Homeless.

My tongue is taken in yours
like an egg
Being dragged down into the lungs
Choking up
Promises,
As a car door slams
Outside;
As a screen door slides out of the way;
As a cloud passes over the yolk of the sun.






Dogs harm the silence, like I, your waist
Gripping too tightly
And letting
Shoes fall to the ground.

White on maple arms
Three black stripes on the side of branded
Synthetic upper
Style.
My hair
In your eyes .
And yours-
Between the gaps in couch
cushions_

oh my god,
this group message from 2008
between my now girlfriend,
the other girl that was very interested me at the time (the first to wear my sweatshirts- the one i thought more likely at the time),
and many others i already begin to forget.
  
i know now,
more than ever
that i really am going to die
someday.

Scale leaf daughter of deep grandmothers

I see your pride and honor

Do you not see the Earth?