I am haunted
God’s scaffolding spinning space
into constellations
The skeleton’s mock trial
Of the soul
Molecules molecules molecules
All dreadnoughts and black holes

The poet at the pulpit
His flesh and hair, fine fuels
Scripture as song, COMBUSTION
Spiraling galaxies locomotive The Duel

A Skin schism venting heat to the outside
Lacerate, that dusty bucking destination
Just beside
the dream placing
The ream of poetry in my hands,
Slicing as God pulls it, gasping
With laughter as
The crystalline embers
Of the hereafter
                     reach porcelain teeth
From beneath the folds
This world outlasts my old
Eyes
Scratching colors from black and white
                                                           ­     Tides

The bare feet of a child run wild
Near and by

Ferreting intwo self annihilation we
My siblings
Ram our heads against the calculations
Chalkboard twilight plus afternoon plus alcohol is
Poetic, tropical  annilihatuon.

To man we matter when our souls vacation

My siblings’ tomes
Like stepping stones
Thrown across the gravity
Of a God too scared to breathe
Christ, the seasons bleed
Together and between
Our mother’s name she screams
My sister,
the only poetry of the family
A literary work of special intensity
And my brother the spine
Binding my like mind
To the catastrophe

God is the void I know
My questions rocking to and fro
The keel blocking the moon's saffron glow
My destiny beyond the star charts below

Puppy kisses are a Gravity
They reckon a soul's sense of The
My corpuscles have grown tired of me
They're in the shape of where I used to be

Collection
Obsession
Like all movement
It is misdirection

The soul scrounges dust
From the fingers of outer space
Uncontrolling it's collisions
Planets all over the place

We need story and song
We must prove the valor of Belong
And we misspend all time with strain
Love is our cover for a life in vain

Animas,
A coin toss
The rippling ends of lungs
Spread as butterfly wings
Carting untreated days of insanity
Between you and me
Seasons no longer fling Rites of time
As days Intermittently
Woven of boiling creativity
Beading atop the surface football scrimmages
Sliding links of clothing, slipping virginity…
They escape between treated fingertips
And run the sun from our lips
Mother Nature dancing from the hip
God’s unauthorized authorship