5.2k
fishbones

bleached
beneath
a 10 kilowatt
moon
anticipating
geometry
the smell
of soap
that same
instant
calling into
question
bisexuality
without flesh
or
the vibration
of blood

i have a face cut from ice
a heart pierced in a thousand places
so to remember
always the same voice
the same gestures
and my laughter
heavy
as a wall
between you and me

the ones who are most alive
seem the most still

behind the milky way
a shadow dances

our gaze climbs toward the stars

3.7k
graffiti

heartbreak
parallel to eye
without razor

sobbing

wet leaves
pressed in
a book
will not
dry

next

tears
do not
outlive
themselves

discovery

for another
generation

still

when in doubt
quote rimbaud
no verbs
no more

choosing the vowel “o”

that
i’m not
going to
remember
again

navigator’s balcony cocktail hour
rocket orbit ocean liner rising
clenched no teeth no guernica no bam bam bam
correspondent notary republic
address book dial figure 8
charred with a thousand jigsaw pieces
false as a beach chiaroscuro black
on black graveyard womb naked milk glass lit
footprint tourism by candlelight and flare
vaccination fatigue puke fingernail fish
moving a bandaged echo kill him kill her
familiar bell music kill them both kill them all
stretched shirtsleeves spanish toffee slashed tires
(failure as a painter he shaved his wife’s fur coat)
bust your balls Barcelona red alert
knock-kneed broken squeezebox no hands
standing room only ladies first (please)
unbuttoned interrogation coffee rolls (stop)
marine’s vegetation (stop) early morning tea (stop)
armless menus (stop) pink cathedral fingers (stop)

and (begin again) move

we move

moving inside an eye this eye
that advances step
by step

2.4k
a personal

mature man
holding his nose
to life
desires young woman
who
is indifferent to
oranges
and longs for those
days
before umbrellas

tues.
exhausted piano teeth mozart pere
gnashing slashing sound barrier
stretching zoology beyond the bird
cannibals in the a-z azimuth

weds.
mirage of red awnings all-night resort
cannibals in the azimuth stairwell décor

thurs.
cold as leprosy embraced
yet somehow curled

fri.
frail departure voice to kill
height hair duck drake
cold as geology young rocks flame
(hidden within the blink of eye)

2.2k
red nude

you swept the ashes of winter
lit red and nude
drawn naked with smoke
and coal
still glowing
in the shadow of paper flowers
pressed to walls of plaster
and stone

turn your back
but stay in view at the same time
(now look away,
anything else confuses)

stand still without saying a word

you can’t see but this is how
i separate day from night

and the starless sky
from the empty heart

stars hang out at night
linen left to dry

red geraniums along the balconies
nodding, nodding
willing to agree to anything
just to keep their color

a gang of kids running through the streets
faceless pranksters
the moon a plate held before each face
who am i? saying who am i
running through the streets saying who am i

the shadows of the buildings
becoming cats that move away
the trees immobilized
left to stand alone in the dark
rubbing their bark from regret
like cicadas

oranges have more delicacy
softly falling, falling
in the groves
on the hills
softly eaten, eaten
by the earth
swallowed whole
as if by a snake
not earth
as if by millions
slithering in the groves at night
millions
stalking the oranges that fall softly
softly to the earth

hunting there in the groves
that form a ring around each town

1.9k
whisper

the shiver of hands
blind without memory
and so,
friendly still
yet sweet like the words
forgotten
to the tremble of lips

quiet
there are no surprises here
rest your eyelids
until they become stone
rest your heart
until it stops

(it beats now only for itself
in some secret place)

1.9k
noon

the palms keep vigil over the tired countryside. orange trees bear clusters of golden sun ripened in the red noon. cypress clean clouds from the azure where insects glimmer, sparks born of incandescent sunlight. i listen to the rhythm of silence scented by fabulous blossoms. and my spirit is drawn towards these heavy desires that haunt the coolness of shade.

man who wears a hat sits still near the back unmoved by the world or the exposed breast of a statue (brain waves do not discharge through a fedora)

tag attached: bald is sanitary

oranges have more delicacy raw smelly and afterward singing allons enfants de patrie ding dang dong like that, all frog-ese so we don’t understand chanteused stiff basso profundo to excite to let us see with the clarity of a dream curled with hate set firm, firmer in the arms of a sleeveless girl then slung to sea level white as a leopard’s eye

remember its peroxide bathed, bleached inclined on the pillow just at the angle of expectancy without a hat sideward glance and the crippled heels of angels sparking down the hall

bulletin: young man willing to wear false beard to ease the pain for all

or trumpet blues broken played horizontal touched by seaweed hands in the light of boats (unfurled)

slowly

and the memory dies slowly half-forgotten, half-remembered

halved again

slowly

only
to begin
again

grim molecules of love

first line lips are false as a beach next mcarthur’s in chicago next the big blond takes the elevator down next pearl on the lip next shalimar stirs the canine cock all right I like that let’s start a new one do it what what do you have don’t fuck up wheres the apostrophe goddamn you’re cruel now back now whack it again whack it again I want it to go back whack it press it whack it okay new line

i want elevator i want uh i want don’t ask the bellboy for the time just take the elevator to what? to notions? to the lingerie shop? ah fuck you grandma new line

all right one more time okay suck the gin-socked tongue that’s “soaked” period once again the elevator down paint the pretty tie (cough cough) thai next big buick big ass like fish put a ? after fish take it back take it back you bitch okay that’s not bad you do all right ah fuck song of india in the desert at night put “” marks around song of india & desert song in capital letters hit shalimar then cadillac red lips then cunt like a seashell with a gin-soaked tongue start new line

all right does mcarthur stick his socks in the bathtune at night that’s bathtub the dog howls at the moon buries it in the backyard snakes lose their skin cocoa butter slick water on the brain of the big dark blond song of india clit clit clit big fish ass big v8 you bitch keep up with me painted rocks like a pretty tie fast car long legs and a broken heel now dead no not dead yet um estee lauder goes down on price-waterhouse in a swedish bath bellboy watching this is his reflection in the mirror no silver one-sided next line

big blond trampled by elephants with wrinkled knees starch is not chic all gone shalimar stirs the k-9 cock sequined ass in the moonlight cadillac red lips hungry dog eats tail becomes himself bad dog play dead okay what do you suggest bad doggie bad comma bad comma hungry dog go for the tongue you dumb bitch keep going new line

what do cactuses(i) have??? fronds fur what are their things called new line

dog hates gin go for the breast stupid bitch good dog dry dog poor dog pour blond water of life piss yellow a thai like painted rocks period next

i want head down legs up i want sequined ass only snatch level damp dampened dampest pussy panorama clit clit clit blue blue down there feminine azure with clouds too got it odalisque in blue period have mercy on me no no new fucking line what are you filling that thing up with okay stop it for now

1.6k
angel hair

some balding angels weave together the soldiers
of god the work of a spider the star of despair
local insects, tennis players in
spite of the nets in spite of
the insolent blue which limits us
which nonetheless continues to charm the readers
of english magazines

a memory
yes
but after
yes
atomic foreskins
pink and fresh
yes
but no
no dream rocoque
no krupp haloes
no religious artifacts
made of lampshade skin
beneath
a million kilowatt moon
no anticipating geometry
the smell of soap
nor calling into question
human sexuality
without flesh
nor the vibration of blood
that angry lobe
hammering overhead
that echo bite
again
and again
clenched
no teeth
no Hiroshima
no again again
black graveyard womb
milk-glass lit
bandaged echo
kill him kill them
familiar bell music
kill them all (with)

1.5k
dogs

dogs eat at the night
buried in the yard
they chase the moon in a pack
the white of their teeth
compared to stars

the windows close against them
iron bars in transparency

life closes against them

the morning will crush them to dust
with only the wind left
to stir them up

in a wine glass
sleeves of a sleeveless dress
knotted
around its stem
and a bull’s head sleeping, breathless
tangled
in the scent of pearl and warm flesh
standing on a drumbeat
balanced
by a prism’s deceptive stammer

a hand puppet
unable to put up a fight
the hand goes crazy –
excuse me if i’m clumsy

remember the other months
a december that closed its mouth
cleverness (that’s what moves me)

we new ones are out in the cold

lint resembles snow to me
clinging to your eyelash why haven’t i
been able to see which of us is right

let’s repeat it before i forget
that people die in every season

watch the roses fade

careless grass of our sins
as if by luck on the number
seven
a prism you capture a rainbow
while you finish your days in prison

insensible to the shimmer of your
crimes ice cream proves
the ingenuity of our suppers

she wants head
male bonding
siamese twins
tango 69

me
i travel by images

corporal landscapes
the mouth is the tunnel
quick, now
the tongue the train

windows on the world
unmistaken

still
same refrain
we will meet
we will meet
somewhere again

end of the line

with
the power of torso
speed of the memento
lost and then
found

and
always
the blood engine
pounding
puffing
steaming its blush
on the cheek of night

the letter always bled for her for her eyes (brown as those old bottles in the medicine cabinet) bleeding words like teardrops yet without spilling onto the green tile floor those words always pure only staining the paper glossy black ink blood like muslin stuck to an old wound those words always strong yet blurred, obscure words only a scholar would find obscene

happy are those who die because they have returned to those first crumbs of dirt that fed us to that first hole to that soft black and smell of coal

poor buick good dog we’re almost done bad moon bellyful of big dumb blond last line i want uh a memory yes before yes atomic foreskins pink & fresh yes hunger for the womb clit clit clit sex junk food rapist with a walkman playing schumann to dilate woman oranges have more delicacy oranges orages oral fruit caught in the act the memory here it is a certain man crippled since birth caught in the act sex without hands his only defense: today today is only the beginning this is only the beginning a sick man’s argument okay last line

while in the street already leaves are falling

lips
false as a beach
damp
a pearl on the lip
dampened
the blackness of a tear

falling

aside
(wet leaves in a book will not dry)

falling

the memory dies
slowly

a plate held before each face
saying who am i

the moon

(the moon after all)

the sun slumbers
on the rim of a straw hat

same initials

i don’t have the time
to wait for dawn

who’s promised to meet me
address unknown

life in the open air

i’m listening to another sea
at the depth of shellfish

you play with the ball without doubting it

sometimes
the sun goes down not far
from the shore

stunted
short
visionary dwarf
snatch level
too much too much
pussy panorama
cut the crap
lay on your back
change of venue
blue blue
dark clouds too
snatch of black cotton
100% virgin
feminine products need not apply
c’mon
but wait
no more shit
but where’s our precious depths
lost our thoughts
consciousness raised
to new depths
then lost
as if fucking weren’t enough
but hey
look
just drop it
no asking for a hand now the clap is extinct
vagina fungus a dinosaur
what we’ve all been working for, right
the liberated cunt
without love
without guilt

sure, but meantime it’ll kill you
homicidal inundation
or better yet
you’ll go blind looking for it

the moon with its lunatic face dog’s grin i throw shouts at it in the night and it hides scudding behind clouds
the world is mad and i run after birds
pigeons
like a kid in the park
trying to spit on them

give me a gun and i’ll blow off my head
one tight squeeze like on a breast on a whores tit until it hurts saying ouch it hurts to cut a hole through your skull until everything hurts, even a quick kiss

cold eyes in the night see nothing and the moon is silent on the topic yet rising from the low bough of some hedge beneath the bush of some garden come words, mumbled love copulating briefly on black air into silence then two shadows of each sex rushing away with their disturbed laughter a fading night breeze toward dawn

fingers
of a fountain
clenched
unclenched
pointing
to heaven
without understanding

lips
false as a beach
damp
a pearl on the lip
dampened
the blackness of a tear
falling

the memory dies
slowly
a plate
held before each face
saying who am i

the moon

(fresh feet
in sawdust
rust before
noon)

the moon after all

705
outlines

in short-shorts
one evening in joinville
venus the slut
put the bite on me

her pretty knot of hair
an illuminated manuscript
made me stiffen
like a cuirassier

we had a good time
her hole and my stick
waiting for the bus
headed toward paris

rapist with a radio
playing schumann to dilate
women

687
bulletin

fresh feet
in sawdust
rust
before noon

— The End —