i want an anti chariot
to repel
i stand
But for June
I declare ruin
to clear the destroyed
mess that poetry got

i get put into a time and place
where U get Your ****** place
put to You like time required.

June.

ruminating about the death of Lorca
I **** time in the void of biology

I try to imagine the executions of
the revolutionary

The Innocent
try time

I can't act or teach this way
they all fall and it is not my fault
they perish

I commit to weird wanderings
testing and stretching life like
they do in books

I should have been many men
over many lifetimes
but one man against time

A lost cohort of arms folds improperly into itself
the hands red, mangled form spiked plumes
in the snow, on the rubble and pebble

Locust arrives white hot, blinding who
leaves a flight of magma terra
in her milk there is no puzzle and

each puzzle consumes its own waste
of perspira pursuing the next shoreline
of scalded blood and answers

Each convolutes by command to an
epoch of gaude and ***** where she
weaves a beaming scaffold

This is a very difficult, detailed explanation
there is no one left alive and the survivors
have destroyed minds and will **** you

but, to be quite honest with you, everything
is on fire it's a right mess

my skull is history

you cough your fake blessings
on paste paper targets

word execution
we watch the city strata
die in it or die by it

my own hand in accord
with your hand burned
I abide.

the able body
is a fable

im watching television
in the future
the past is better

you can't spell my name today
but thats ok
Futurist spellings disregard all futures