On an anxious plain.  Water beads get fat and round.
Threatening a race to the equator.

Bulbs scream under the crust
Babies with weightless footsteps

circle suspicious seams and the dream
of valves and mysterious passages

If there were a moon
It would plummet as ten trillion blue comets

Were there oceans they would rise an automatic
body of salt bones and steam

We are Ether and Human as the same one time
filled with light and immortal

This september sky
does not have kind eyes
They stare at women's tongues
and never blink

September's thin blue arms
smeared with white angel's guts
reach into mens lungs with
mouthfuls of oxygen lust

If they beheld her whole form
they would turn mute and celibate
forever.

I'm not the one
my words are scalded chants
which are not Art unless you
perish this minute

I sing bass in the street like
Walt except I **** women
If you read Latin my children
are graffiti

She said Let's go tonight and
drink drink drink
Fine I said
Now the world is our blood

I keep you next to me since
I'm a dead man for rock and roll
And you will stay alive
Like a song in the streets

I will take a train to Babylon but never declare my own trespassing bombs
Red dirt in the mind is hardened and seduced for one minute and then lost

Pedestrians are mowed down as I hoard weapons for ecstasy
I bathe in hard water a blued frontier explorer while the sun is nothing

I have to smother your discoveries while you come onto filth icicles
The letters of the killed mark my path announcing biblical winter

When I am thrown from a cliff
how will I address the spirits ?

With my limbs crashing in our wooden room ?
the primitive sectors of my mind in flames ?

When my tongue pushes sacred air I
invoke silent destruction

Every impure atom flounders
My blood will remain

Puking with ****** revelation
Giving lethal sanction to pure hearts

Creation is the mad bird that never sleeps
with its head beneath the blade

Our murderers will turn like surprised doves
but our oldest comrades will declare war

To cold peace points an inner carbon
An elegiac turn
A firesharp hollow
A plunging baritone ribbon

The horse is wood it does not
eat it burns on a flake of Singapore
On plaster fingers
Abracadabra's
Black Dracula

we smoke and talk
of unbending gravity and **** negotiations
while cobalt tombs whistle

we perform joke executions she
exclaims as we howl naked freedom

it is my bargain of captives she *******
after salt, French and bayonets

August breathes absinthed
in careless expressions where wind steals September

Famous and blonde now
because you crashed your car where

Lights Burst Mozart

a quiet story
before the locked doors or
three way mirrors
a spider whispers

a lesson from a devil on hot
pale scales pipe high virginal
ballads in black smoke broken
by smiling Poussin

bells plunge down towers
sweetening prisons with
spiders clenched recitals
and 24 carat bourbon

The excavations on serpent scaled cliffs !
Close to the cirrus !
Here
Blind wings must labor for
****** adventure
They spin like silkworm into language holes.

Dark hands and Blood legends are
paternal engines stolen from
the memory of women beaten by
mouthfuls of silent lead secreted
from blurred civil wars names burning
from snakes tongue borne into
nameless wine cork
beneath the bloodmyths

The women behind the machines and
morphine webs stroked
numb in theatres

Whose skulls are like stone bowls
Whose hands are like straw
The names of their murdering children
are as old as the names of rivers

I was a teenager
My heart was loud

I owned right now
You held my hand

Don't dance
I know you can but don't

Defy time
Since we all burn

I burned at the stake
each witness is a note
that sweeps through deaths
chill toward my feet

Here in this sky
the ecstasy of saints is made clear
I burn in music
every voice tried by fire

A revolver bangs a silk bull
bucks her hanging

tactic steers away a million tongues

The nearest to heaven is your ****
that dances on a detergent blood vessel

you detect a tick like a trap we made
while the flood will deny our sugary curse

you spy a tick and a hook
drops onto blood codes
eyes spraying in panic

you charade a seance
conducting a catholic farce or
on ode to smiling slavery

you arrive at sunrise
hell now licking the ruins of
dawn frost in iron cuffs

Echo flies into a clock like
soft time forgotten

There is no cure for paranoia
except a loaded firearm

I paint the war
It is laughter and invention

with loud clicking gasps
buried in the seed of fraternity

I put the heads of those come to reason on the walls
raised clean of explanation

I occupy observation towers swept with frost
and the listening posts during hopeless invasions

Forget it I came here to fight and
you'll bleed into your grafitti

which converted my thieves hand
into cognac soaked

mandolin adagios

just look at the overgrown flood in the field
that was an ice skate rink

it's for the kids to skate but they won't
skate they'll pout and shoot is what

who the **** ice skates I have a tiny
pistol I stole and I want your wallet

I walk past the sad sodden ice rink
a cold flood in a forgotten field

where children would skate but now
they can only lurk

Memory clung then ran
down the nerve of my bed
of broken seashells split in
boiling strychnine

Turning my head to keep my eyes
from twisted crackling debris
the darting nicotine fairy invokes the
gallant end of a galaxy

can't talk like a poet got
a foul mouth I spit blood
people think I'm simple
because I am

you would rather study human acrobatics
like you would rare animals
but their talk blinds your raised knife

curling onto a fake memory
I smell the burning intelligence
just to watch is convenient romantic

Name it.  It kills poets.

Beethoven choral racing through frozen forests
through rain and frost storms
We are carried on fast horse through winter
against furious Beethoven

Making love on lost sheets of saffron and straw
a frozen speeding vision explodes into your corner

racing fierce on pianoforte
Beethoven one note pure
against humanity

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

I am through the house silently
every mortal battery
on quiet compliments
Entering other rooms
when I remove or use
objects I am a ghost
meddling
The furnace kills out
I look out windows
that will outlive our
gory dance

's favorite meal is not children as you may expect
it is old people, the elderly near death
they taste better to him
he fantasizes their whole lives with every bite

whose heart like bottles or ransom clinks against
itself eating the useless parts of its own stomach
rotors of bone hum about revenge
the earth clones pale enigmatic cyanide

my spawn sweat bourbon and bleed sweet milk
I'm the Tower
Look Look
let us hold eachother here until the dark blossoms

into an invisible canine snarl
crushed by feathers at a
tomb-encrusted countryside
wax swans bleed from

their eyes and bulls inside run
in circles around ancient ice prisons

Look a clock
century weary mariners
gape in disbelief
at a yawning dawn
of cadmium
on the tongue of
a bristling free roaming
continent of
gothic salt

Before you wake
rain's tongue shivers
behind your eyes

blue as Vishnu
pure water lifts
to wet the leaves above
your sleep

rain in orbit falling when
your dream commands

If you manifest in stone, fine
If all I find is dust I will
still carry you into the
impossible

see how I arch my back ?
I'm poisoned

bones do what they want
my spine is skeletal quetzalcoatl

as the one dash zero pattern commences
agile fingers shoot from the surface
now the new **** logic locks
onto hidden nutrients

the rising curtain
body of the dull hour
arms hanging about the roots
and the rocks on the electric river

they line up and burst in
sugarfruit unison
returning to exile with those
who had weathered exile with them before

we initiate the dream of a heartless choir
everything greased and ready to go
nothing crawls nor begs mercy from god
and we erected the temple of the wasps

got hellhounds on my trail
my blood is in their nose
my fingerprints are on some sandpaper
in Arizona
All my money
in an empty bourbon
bottle
At the bottom
of Picayune bayou.

I know it's you at the end of this blind hallway
Robert Johnson
I finally feel safe to be overcome by fear
and hounds

In your very pure mouth ( god save it )
clanked metal mouthpiece
by cold water in a strange basement
or perhaps even less

Morning doves catapult
leukemia
Astro goth acid wars
White fire black ****** mania

Could we just kiss
right here this September
not have to wake up
or sleep ever again ?

There was a game whereby
we stood against a blank frieze
to catch small orange marbles
thrown by a devil who stood

balanced on a border the
border shook like water it
separated the end of the
world from the beginning

You had to throw back the marble
to disrupt the border
and the devil might fall off
but he always caught it

There was a game ...

Isaac Dust, born of the dust and returning to dust
Handing over the Bill of Terrorism to the judge
Letting frozen phrases slide around my tongue

into moonlight babies beds
into sawdust halls of law

into realms of embroidered cobra's heads
Who call my name through dense blue forests
on our imaginary continent

The years make
you place an elegant
portrait in the empty chair
where the colossus
announced to faint
Legislatures
The years make
wagers out of cold space
sounding the hunt

I come around
with the back of
my face dragging in
some green water

The cabin is turned over on
the back of Alabama

Red mud rises and I search
drawers of swimming
Surface laws

Who says I can't
Hold you in avalanche wirework

When you name a serial of apologetics
becoming clear only in reverse

Why scrawl any
pattern or
family of bitemarks
or caresses

The illustrator has
children of his own
and loud red
wine to waste

Visiting your birthplace
in your example
suggests antique
weaponry

Through sublime sense
Puritan watershed

My language vanishes
Now only my breath and the sun

The street signs are blank
to celebrate the death of words
The end of poems

The black birds swoop through
clock tower faces
My eyes chase the steam
out of stained glass

I dream of the death of words
Of a sweet reckoning
A silence like music

A mad stone mask waits
in memorized frost on the
blood heavy curtains of ****

Backstage are the petrified
coronas of silver babies whose
ghostpaper hands whisper
wreaths of slavery

I'll be there to dance you past
the ruined barricades
when you surface
from the blackened silver leaf
of buried cathedral roofs
toward the songs that rise
from the orchards
and the draught of blackbirds
who tear from the spires
in your father's gothic prayers

Passage of day over the title on
a brittle page
Someone tore up a
greatest hits of Zen earlier
that year

Your spine bolts after
a windborne ticket
Where else could you be
Not the desert of whisky but of
whisky's prehistory

Distilling the *** act from a codex
Amnesia pressed  like  specimen
between yourself and your killers
glance over a name in stone
The page a sheet of light

Your patience is her picture
It is one last rose buried in her voice
Your careful dalliance becomes her wine
Her children wait at the port
It is vengeance
A stone animal turned in the earth
A white hourglass
She is the early thought
Your fingers perish on
the paper edifice of her temple

Staring with the spider
into semantic oubliettes
The cats have all gone mad
The hounds growl at shadows
The guards in the tower
hone their bayonets
The night is red
The shroud of crow
follow my car
past sleeping windows
then lift like one
legendary rook
The snow falls in my headlamps
and my mind is a cemetery

The thousandth
****** beneath
Lake Baikal of
The Trident
The gods' mouthful
bristling iron
is spat ashore
Leviathan's bones
glint and crackle
Man is one celled
Apocalypse
yet to divide
His name in Manganese
splinters under the paths
of the mastodon

The King of Chalk dropped
His speech in a trail of ants
outside Juarez

This is the day to chase the kite
that smashed into a junkyard and got shot
knocked up and burned in her bed

I chased that red vulture onto hunting grounds
Crossed by jazz wires where oil soaked colossi
stood on each side of the dripping black strip

Brings her orchestra
fixed to pitched agate
Her unwinding demolition
is in the saying

Her hunting grounds
break over seance bells
On oak and violin
floods

The unanswered
arrows
The advent
Her scherzo opens

Wolves balance
in the driving

When the flavor of the West has really touched you
you'll walk for the animals
The hotels will boil

the idea of your ear as a welcoming door
We pull your pacific heart into plush pine
quilted music and quiet knives

The execution songs are soft
blackouts of deer
The songs that pour from the mourning procession are

clever legal tactics
**** anthems and verbal
Castrations

In the wild
You are left to consider graffiti disasters
hatched from gypsy palates
Vanished in music through spiders

In a wilderness of orange viral light
Moths push from the lips of willow switch
Geishas who stargaze on
Matrimonial black powder

In our wilderness of birth the
Name of Fire is swallowed by moths
We are reborn in Geisha operas
Over the embers of burned invention

You sign the word for sand
In a lamplight hem
A voice skating chalk
Points over pearl

Its pitch wound in a white
Arched wax arm
Ticking the membrane
In her submerged bell

Her voice is the burning of autumn
curling out of terra cotta chimneys
making you strong in the cold
knowing that your time is
the lost time and our
days are the last days
You run on bridges over rivers
growing colder as
the dream of being human
on earth becomes startling