it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when(being fool to fancy)i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination, when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

—turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

of which
is humor
and of
which is
life
that our
dry mouths
gape
at the beauty
of death?  
old princesses
and young
hobgoblins
will
laugh at
our
naiveté
that imitates
picnic blankets
and checker boards.
"Many perished
precisely
because
they were young
and beautiful."

Andre Breton
laughs
with our age
and our age
laughs
at time
and time laughs
at half
played grand pianos
and full moons
and they laugh
at our fingers
which fumble
at life
and life
fumbles through
humor.

of which is humor
and of
which is life
we wonder
as water clogged
ears strain to
hear.
or listen?

I propose every pre-existing value to myself, and I embody it.
I surge every thought towards it, I commit every diasporic cell to it.
I cradle, and I brood and dwell on it for years, until I can find no other reality to contest it.
I become narrow and hollow. I hiss at every attempt to eclipse my flaring sun of reality.
I become The Bitter Man. I will love nothing more than to project my bitterness unto others until I am alone; Manifest Destiny.
Until I fully epitomize the number 1, I will not relent.
I will churn myself into powder over thousands of miles of burnt asphalt and sips of coffee until I sit beneath chrysalis skies, in gravel ditches not inspired to even look up.
Sit up, sight & repeat.
I will continue on this wheel of values until every value is impotent
*And total freedom will ensue.

I want you to read me,
The words always on my face.
But you only glance
And decide
The book is too long,
Or not worth it,
Or maybe you read the critics
And chose to skip it.
But I want you to hold me,
The way you hold those old
Leather bound pages
And tenderly turn
Chapter after chapter.
I want you to adore me,
Although I'm not yet
A novel,
No masterpiece by any means,
But I could take you
Places you've never been
And make you
Feel alive again.