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

The sun glides into taverns and
lights the tables where
there is no city or country

Only the walk and talk beside
breaking hours

Moths in steam
Vistas of power plants
you cannot clasp to your heart

The streets and the fields will stretch your hands
You want to taste gently outside the whip of sirens
Like a deer

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 ?

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

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

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

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

your electronic memory of
Oscar Wilde collapses
just then the sun
the future like a gun
afloat in cream
bang film skin piano

your memory hangs in my
broken window like a saxaphone

forty somethings smoke and flirt
on a cruise ship floating
toward a blissful retreat
where time has lost command
and the radio has blown out
the morals of the age

The city arrives peels
of silvered bird laughter
Acrobatic chords frost
death train November in
Girl Pure Sugar and
Day of the Dead lavender

The streets are burning
The names of ghosts curl
on tortured papers

Beyond the slithering ruin of
the skull etched Yucatan
ball court
Your voice burns in my
pulse as I hunt
The jaguar

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

In gentle cursive the song written
on the white arched neck of the
artificial swan

The ankle bells
give you away
the sweet echo
of your bare feet
on the cobblestones
the clever fountains
bauble as always
while they are
still good keepers
of night time

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

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

you work perfect farce like
your cards light in my hand singing
a jingle to slavery

you light a bourbon course
across artillery and *****
sworn to war

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

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

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

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

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

Your children twist
their legs in the fields
during
the play murdering
gather their
arms to decide
how to assemble
your hips
when onlookers
burned into paved
staircases
dream of how
tumbling phantoms
destroy countrysides
and what wreck
is the womb

'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

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

locust songs twist silver slivers
on the mattress on
the floor in the
fight to the death winding against
wet pink feathers

I turn my imaginary arm back
from cartoon space and We're
****** since arms are extinct.

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Computer accuracy is suicide.

Crash to stop in time, make any sense of it?
There's no one to blame

Lie, rot, consume ashes of burned thought.

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Talking about it makes it worse.

Serious study ... ... ...

Action noise figures.
Equal to a fasting

Serious consideration ... ... ...

Excessive knowledge
Excessive explanation
Excessive detail
Excessive Interpretation
Excessive study
Excessive Excesses
fatal.

Sharpen you bury yourself
ink pen
institution of barcodes
all is null
excessive null
in school
fatal.

I am Ether
and it's hard luck these days
with nobody making you famous

There is a lead cloud pregnant
with memories worse than burns
raining like errant artillery

I have to bite with my best teeth
to rewind pleasure and fossilize
painful reputations

You put murderers tattoos on my
social membrane by a diseased loop
Obviously I run like a rabbit and

backflip and rip in half the sky
Anonymity boils
Jarry shoots his ephemeral pistol

outside the theatre at fictional
Paris of your half dream
these ghosts circle your nerves

bleeding christmas sugar
gasping kerosene charisma
atop the peak of repute

the cue I have abandoned
proves hard balance and
will **** every blank note

That is why we fight and
forget ****** vanishing
in sight like Virgins

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

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

She lives in a figurative cube of lard
A clear turmoil tunnel channeled like
a river of boiling fat filled with shards
of shining glass shattering her flaccid
memory lacerates each emotion or
turn into adipose gluttony

I wear my heart on her terry cloth robe
the brain she was born with is the
***** on her clothes

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

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

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 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

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

the weight around absence of might
will slowly bury collapsed matter out of
our style

the entrenched wretched waste of verb
is sewn hastily to this fray
out of sight

the pale adventure will pause on a petal
resuming criminal affections of
the retina

one phosphorous bible verse thread
invents one stone knot end
ad infinitum

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

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

Bomb her mouth
morning never comes
for *** enhanced fluoride

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

she zipped back and broke that glass suit jacket
as a running youth
as grey months brake into the Atlantic

where the viscera is pinned to a dancefloor
one of my ears is a surgeon the other
is not here

her ankle turns above water which is
a piano turning in court
an apple in cold grass

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

One backward leaf of
paper to assault my shade of
fey staircase

ink inside a lock of
hare in a black backward box
key for my clock

smoke without a whip's
narrow ghost backward of
a coal haunt

clever stairway it's own
footprint for hare escapes
my backward watch

I form and practice
the smallest hidden
dramatic gestures
from within the simple
mouths of spiders
There
the secrets are in
quiet handprints
Fortunes are passed
from the ceilings
The lights are
wise and silent as
the gaze of
Chinese tortoise

I own one eye a known
Wanderer and an insolent
Student

Its twin
Formed from the first’s
Forgotten breath is as

Static and wide as
Our very Pacific

One eye set upon the tropic
The lizard mineral surfacing
To embrace salt laughing

One then upon our Arctic
The axis eternally poised
To blast and bristle

Our iris unbending gravity
Secreted within ridicule

Eye the Equator as She duels
The very patient curator over
Aqua Photo Helio Fuego

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

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

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

O. Pool raw island or line vineyards
action stripping the shifts in throat lobes

co operative fraction guillotine manual or
glandular matchstick subtracting certain

matching breeds already beneath accidental
mathematics in estrus clothed by fractions

                                        II

Aural syringe laughing lineage captured
glass cultures Where I feel revered by newborn

lands of guilded dementia children from vapor
quartering off portions of soft cornered rockets

off soft dabs of round cornered minaret orders
I fire the buoyant mind with fractioned black butter

                                       III

The hum of fans
the gunboats dealing broadsides
raw meat and bound feet
moon is withered grape
flys gnaw thru our cellophane
intent to devour our brain
The mythical hiss of salted throats
dissolving like fermented aphids
milk amidst the purr of confused
****** onlookers

The Princess of our burlesque
appears with her sun red triplets
Three clairvoyants asleep in their
eggshell bed each with three eyes
one just within the foreheads