i'm in an interstellar voyage
reading your melancholic poems
speeding up my rocket to find your
verses scattered all over the kuiper belt

the furious magnetic field
that surrounds your eyes
rejuvenates the hair
of synthetic clouds
white to black
as you switch
from coffee
to spirits
below
a cookies
and cream sky

discarded books in a box
pages that hold notes
and a foot of loss
phone numbers
pressed flowers
outdated to dos
stiffened by the heat
and the rent increase
words of wrecked wounds
smashed drunkenly with no
id and no dna yellow pages of
a frightened fugitive on a freight

...and her ink-saliva printed bills of higher denomination
   and she exhaled with the same urgency as that of a subs-
   titute grim reaper that forgot who or why he had to ****...

life is made out of segments
    where we enter rooms and
                    become someone else
        for we must blend into
to not scare anyone

then we emerge into the light
and we eat and drink everything
out of someone else's fridge

tiny inhabitants struggle to fit
sugar cube concerns into the
tiny space where they frolic
made out of
ties and fries
and fines and flies
paper pushing all lust
and hope into a plastic basket

and then he decided for the
       both of us to go ahead
           and just be friends
                  he meant
                   become
                 a memory
          like everything that
ever existed in recorded history

spread your skin
on the egyptian silk
like your linen cloth
soaked in spilled milk

let's get through all the
seasons and ignore them

your dilated-brown-eyes
expand like the naples-yellow-sun
you look at melting my blood-red-heart
diluting my deep-blue-feelings

the memory
of you leans against
the deepest corner of the fissure
of my brain dried up and shrinking
like a stray pea roasted by the sun

I show you traffic lights
so you know when to follow
but they are all yellow
the waiting period
the electric hair
you can't hide
after the rave
after the wave

I thought it
was time to stop
when. I saw the red
but it was just a stain
              after the bird
        after the car
after the window-bird
crashed the car-head

the before the after the chronicles
the number on a napkin in a trash can

not
noticing
nate
never
named
a single time
he wanted to stay
             shedding
             my flaky
             skin of
             for
             ever

the omnipoem has verses
       that compose themselves
aware of its own structure

it knows its fate and writes itself
the robot that wants to be human

it goes ahead and offers himself
the hero that knows he must die

             finds a path to a castle
                 and rescues the princess
                      so the movie could end

some angels
trade wings
for fangs
to inject
poems
on  
            shiny shattered souls
            pick up those pieces
            read them
            feed them  
            to the lion

a mesh wall smashes
people and ****-ends on
the concrete polishing sings
that read all plans cancelled streets
lay gray and sunk like a date stood up

...and a new suffocation was born.
   It synced with her arbitrary res-
   piration. I had to stop her 'cau-
   se she was choking and she'd spit
   hurtful bills that cut her throat...

stamp scraps of stardust on my scalp
to scandalize sailors by the seashore
my sin and savior my savage love
                            c'est l'amour

blue is the sky
bronze are the bullets
that bury our dreams
burning our blurry glory
bloated with blasphemy
blasting our moral
blaming our brains
bruising our faith

behind the low-fence-yard
parallel to the string-of-stars
sitting with eleven pm luster
hides the meaning of beauty
this evening you forgot your
umbrella and out in the wild
someone plays the guitar
to someone at times

seal the seam
of my saturated dreams
to stare at satellites on saturn
two eyes
white stars
wine truffles

increase
in released
episodes from
your world:        rare
                             random
                             ransom
for requested simplicity
oh the space made in your busy schedule
for salty lipstick splashed phone numbers

ink
bleeds on
my fingers
and my flesh
bleeds on this sheet
the world's skin rips open

you
are the
engine
of every
motorized
butterfly
in my gut