Three blind babies in the caterpillar nest
The songs turn their limbs
Torrents of Mandarin wash over the silk
Watercolor cilia crawl toward the tomb corners

Awake at the Kremlin with fluoride eyes built
to take in the exotic
pour the ***** and the women and masterpieces
launch into the frozen countrysides

Lapping of the close water
moon shrouded in a prismaic screen
the shadow of salt
beside the beast of south China sea

Amnesia spreads dripping thrands
answering only to the ocean
the language of caterpillar
shout from our arranged marriage

I'm smoke
An approaching moment of ecstasy
everything is broken
and is made a victory

A dire message whose last
lines bleed away into crossing floods
impossible stillness breaks and
prays dazzle

the heavy heart
petrified
made smooth by sand

i have the heart of a predator
but i'm docile now since
the moon dogs me

i have made camp at the top
of the glacier and
the wolves smell me

i will write you my letter
now
before the fire goes out

you're always there
in  my blind spot
deaf and obscene

naked covered with *****
you vaporize when I
address you

screaming mad

i have never beheld such a monster
You are my ghost on evenings when
the air is as thick as white fat

all i can hear are jet engines
and drunken
Howling

On our imaginary continent
people treat their bodies like Violins

to be played
mastered by stray chaos
from music un made

The paths are strewn with
strange fruit and tender tourists

our way to sea is dissembled by
sheet music awry in coastal wind

I open up smooth channels from cobwebbed
cellars to emerge at lake bottoms

Mine is the legacy of century old wasps trapped
in glass light fixtures attached to plaster
ceilings in Hong Kong and Siberia

I remember ancestors trapped in ice and
amber death screams preserved perfectly
eyes fixed on eternity

where spiders lurk unbothered
over the ******* of women warriors
and lions have eaten every man tempted

we cannot imagine the war engines they
eventually will create to unhinge us
from our proud and complacent positions

from which we perpetually ****

When the brink vanishes
the furnace swallows its
mother's pastoral tongue
which then echoes through
one thousand years of dead mouths

Beauty flings its severed head cavalier
over the mob who are nippled toothed
and penised maggots of war

Through my window
from my black scaffold
at the furthest edge of the orchard
we'll meet in secret

Drinking like savannah beasts at rivers edge she
is left to ferment
lethal like wine in an hourglass

she denies death and is weaponized
she defies god and is made a woman
she aims and in doing perfect harm is made

stricken with regret your running target stems
consequences whose stomach is filled by feather
memorials bound by leather turmoil

Shells in my face says Henry the eighth and Rome
will burn gladly on
a nest of Palestinian violins