Tumble quasar roaring blind, caustic stick etchings of candle wicks
carving starlight into unkind creatures
Clawed, aligned
Rivulets between the rivets, precession,
Your star, Our star the finger of another constellation
Advising wayward comets to deflection
I watch tadpoles in the pool
Swim a spherical galaxy
Sun and the earth and the moon alive
Deciding
That gravity is company

A butterfly of cells
Mexican coffee
Distending tephra in cascading reds
Above Chikurachki
“Sip from this side of the café”
The tick tock of Cesium 133
Who imagines eternity?
My left eye’s infected
My Youth, neglected
Malnourished to older age
Like Titan’s dance: a slow degrade

Torched with acetelyne
The conversation shivers with caffeine
As comets snap at the human dream
“Everything”, she says, “is manufactured mean”

Some narrow lilac, some feathered breath
some moment tread over with daylight,
with stamped cigarettes
The secret sanct of poets, intersect,  
*Sunset’s mother, cradling loosened
dandelions,
like Europa, sulfur ingénue,  hand woven clouds, tapestry *
I climb axe in hand like God’s mistake,
my dancing planet’s sands soaking wet
Time mishandling regret, respirations,
and Whiskey just takes and takes.

Mercury, dissected poetry, and lacerated harmony
Plucked on rib
Singed face from Jupiter’s whim
To entreat battle; Time begins
As Transit, horse bit
and scythe cradle
A sun driven,
whipped to stave
The seeds of gravity, spurn and ladle
Golden linseed per la nave

The spirit to the body:
“You cannot fall in love with this earth”
Gravity is not caress,
Breath, or the jest of birth
It is the yearn of worlds
An untethered God, Time
The insanity between the seconds
Of every molecule; delicious crime

Constellations fling stars through
What becomes of me and you
The echo of colors; the first we knew
The blues and reds of avenue
What song sings the drunk, the
Bleary eyed shrew
That wretch with sizzling breath
Staring us in two
What but Time is the disease
That wrecks the view
Swinging with Gravity until
The choir sings Hallelu
Tick tock, tick the menus
And klieg lights and residue
Humanity is a sunset
Its venom, true

The shame is that the dead hang on to us
Their fingers the streams of unstrung
Thoughts between our salvo breaths
In The shade of lavender death becomes

I wish For a universe without gravity
To wrinkle the sunlight before it finds me
The wrest of the seconds only sung
No quiver of a noose memory sprung


Sent from my iPad

We are free in God’s blue lungs to run,
to bask
But there are ribs and muscle above us
And capillaries and aoveoli at our feet and
The words of our conversations are on borrowed air and
Our Lord takes a breath and asks us to sleep
So His Dreams may Be

Some summers writhe beneath me,
the skin stretched across the petri
kept away in the ribcage, beating against the bars,
Wanting stars,
the ether burned off as sand staunching my toesteps
and Saturn rings tossed afar

Beans and melons
He sung
He rung
From strumming chords
The bar, our Lord
Gravel on chalkboard
Verse by Verse
Whetting the appetites
Of the universe
Candlelit darkness
Our first and last quilt
Wrap me drunkenly
And so my will

Hear them sing, the comets
Hung from gravity
Flung among the trees delicately
Reaching for you and me

A congenital rotation of Time
Topographic damage from the rhyme
Of fingered activity, blame and climb
The grist of Humanity; disease, ragtime

We’ll meet  again as the Boatman’s guests
Our clothes wet from the ocean’s crest
The shadows indicating our trip west
From this world my heart I wrest

The sing song of a child
Aghast face making
Wretch, guard, gild, hone, smelt, style
The seasons snapping our backs, wild

A love affair with God
Bodies old as cast wax
Stuffed with junipers, natron
The future I regret; my past I laud

Maybe venture there
Where the irradiated dare
To speak, to spike, to writhe
To deny life to children caught inside
These editors of scripture,
Hands removed and tongues blistered
With thyme, sulfur and rosemary
The words as a thin runnel carrying
Wonder, Fear, the clink of crystal
Loomed etiquette diluting the Vistaril

Maybe dance,
Create a universe by chance

Trajectory
The dance of Will between you and The
Notion of planets, the poetry of gravity
Endless erosion of Time and peace
Still our skeletons must move and breathe
The leaves of autumn are proclivity
Gods and Demons, Roman hierarchy
Professors in dust jackets screaming from eaves
To the tick of my heart turning the ***** key

It was a downward trajectory
Like poetry
Sifting the salt from the universe
Forging the faces of her and me
Adrenaline bands, the Kuiper belt
Argonaut planets beginning to melt
The atmosphere, our feathered slip
My sister’s tired, losing her grip

I N ST I T U T IO N

Objects we dangle in moonlight
The luster of God, eyes it might
Rocks and weeds and broken glass
As midnight makes its gentle pass

Once was heaven and it shattered
The shards drove from mountains
Creatures of habit
Broken backs, whetted skin
Dancing Devils and infection

Some right some new
grew cavalry
I do not have a heavy foot of gravity
To plight climate with money,  breeds
leave the glass buildings for idols and Thieves
let the spurn of my childhood taste like ***
and mint leaves
The sun never excuses its insolentry
I guess for death sins that never leave
All my sister, her rhymes
That enlist her

S O L  I  T A R Y

Neither a thought nor a child breaks loose
here, in the Elysium of the brain unbridled, blind, mute
and dreaming of nuclear landscapes.
Her careful walk cradled what was now his life,
the morning curdled with sand-whipped sunlight
and perfect whiskey sours
he devoured
as if Time’s rhythm relied upon them.

The moon mentions “You have rules for me”,
laughing constantly
The crown, feathered tomes, a candlelit
Fisher King
Her waltz wanders eyes; War headdress,
Rosemary spice
elect
her neck espousing
Grouse, minerals streaming
My sister posts ambulance ride selfies
WIth a loosened insistence on eternity
Hamearis Lucina, or ‘Duchess of Burgundy’

Alcohol dries my heart to the bone
Calcium score of lunar dust
No rhythm, words like stone
Set on the mantle; the earth’s crust
Bones build constellations
Their names run beneath
Archangels grant damnation
My lungs beat without relief

Celestial bodies speak
Just Gravity, Time
And Catastrophe
Their soot sopping skies
And mixing with our skin
I jump up from the earth
And join in

Time, Sun, quadrants of ;
Consist me, skin; Memory,
Rhythm on worn soles, the
Unfed bone machinery
The planets do not care
Their accidents pleasurability
Freshman, wisteria; slipping bookbag
College in degrees

Ariel ruins, the left foot to lead the dance
Spiral, laughter; the endless
Chance
Water crests, the deck boards ache
And the jawlines clinch
Death will have to wait

Let’s say the sun is yours, he said.  
What difference does it make?
Have another ****-tail.
And the sun scrubs what it creates

The oils and the ethers in little crystal bottles
both round and ovlong and colored yellow-red and dill  
They clink between her fingers as she peers
over the edge of the tripping little pill.

A million little poems explaining us from then to here

Inner centuries of settlement
Avuncular anomalies
Ridden by Death
Sing of me, sing of me
Carotid arteries, Islands  of Langerhans
Accidental poetry and
Hollow earth
Bound by disease
Folklore, legends disperse
We the universal revelry

The universe addresses its skeleton
Tidal light reinvents her, beginning with the lips
Gravity pulls at the word: civilization
Reeds in the water kiss my fingertips
Night plays with rancor, bad blood
Newborns shiver between bristling thrush
She coos, her words new; scripture
Cocktails misspending memory in a rush

The doom of the marsh,
Of conversations,
consonants keying the walls
The trickling, like stroked water
Delicately balancing history
Atop The Dream of Money
Enough to not feel
Not to reel
From the chokers, the faucet
The bloodlet

And there are fountains
And balloons and taffeta
And baseball and popcorn
And your legs and head
In your father’s arms
As you are carried to bed

And you are not afraid of that mistress, Death
And you can close your eyes
Because they will open
And you can dream
Because you will wake
And you can fall and cry
As Memory nests inside
The immaculate life that waits

And then it broke, the world
Into sunlight and clover leaves
It was all just sounds anyway
Nothing gravity could ever keep

Minstrels were the first to sing
And orange hues deconstruct Spring
Sentences are wrung of time
Wish I’d kept the promises of mine

The Jesuit and
A party as clean as the afterlife
And no people
Just new music
Ritalin rain, tulip petals
Imagine they discover imagination on
The far side of words
All faces become familiar
Tenants of our Temple

The sunlight, a departed friend
The lamp light;
Autumn’s condemned

God’s entrails
Rib cage
Fear of becoming my father
Ignites the rage
Chaste brunettes, silly dolls
Prance for a living
Their dances enthrall
Chirps of the world
The righteous in song
Celebrate the nothing
They never get wrong
A soundtrack of thunder
Going off the rails
The world hungers
Beneath God’s entrails

Rhythm is a meter just beneath her and the seconds I’m given to smile
Wrap the morning in sunlight, guile
Our life is a scent on the wind
Of falling leaves and fireplaces, where warmth begins
Our eyes echo of the past to come
Our love , girded papilion

Mathematically,
Our souls ≠ the stars (that drew them)
They cannot be considered
Functions, Sin
In the same Proof
As ORBIT And Collision

The Cartesian coordinates of a sisters’ picture
by a beachfront restaurant chalkboard menu
the refracted sunlight a cosign of the attraction between comets and stars
The bar top is wet from margaritas and laughter.  The camera setting is .63R
The poetry of Time, un-rhyming minutes; words heavy with breath
Ellipse the gravitational pull of death

What dreams here untested by
Ganymede, circling; apprised
Judas, freckled skin;  the cries
Reconstructing childhood
From the tides
Ferris wheel
The skeleton of a pier
I am 13, 27; I am forty four
Alive

Hey, Malaise.  
Perhaps a comfortable walk?  
A conversive stroll tolling my attention;
a religion, aren’t i?

Machine-learning people, memory blossoms of consonants
Walking all on their own
Like the ants on the pebbles their grub held above their eyes
The surprise is that they Know at all

And their Death is an alabaster tea
Or singed teeth greasing the universal works
Swimming beneath rumpled covers of earth
To be Memory,
blossoming petals
and me

A solemn mending
The orbit about her staring
Nine years two hundred twenty days
Of my soul endlessly daring
The marsh, or Time when it slows
The bloated corpses arose
Thistle bound, satin and soot
Heaven is worse than it looks

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

Fury, fury and birthing nothing
Empty arms, silly songs, Eyes
Alight for muscle, touching
Bird chirp pleasantries
Sir, church, Momma, please
Landlocked disease

Why must you look toward
Forward?
Waif, figurine
Roller motion
The notion that you
Clink when kissed

The old wanderer, resuscitating
Time, the sunlight
An impure wine
Wrestling Anger, the Fight
Missing you, Neptune
Like childhood

We live among kings and sorcerers and plasmic sonnets
and serpent-lined oceans and speed-freaking comets
breaking left around untapped worlds of ether
and crested hawks and tales of Caesar
and acetylene-soaked music (and the guitarist drops a match)
and pharaohs and arks and Grecian tracts
and the words of Faulkner and pianos
and gilded lilies heaving like sopranos
and foamy, crashing sunsets and Davis’ “Kind of Blue”…
Why in hell would I care for the evening news?

The Perseus Cluster declination
650,000 light years; 54 billion degrees
Her day is ladled in breaths
Sawdust of stars encircling her feet

The sun in Minor A; a wonderful remark
(For manners lie undisturbed in the dark)
A need for a poem to define Celestry
Her heart is lost to gravity

So pumps the crimson, so it curdles the sleep in us all
The vacuum of souls so like their universe
One note, one verse
Ad infinitum sung, no … hummed
Until the eyes darken and the skin loosens and the
Teeth yellow and drop from the gums
Blood thickens with Weary, with boredom of Springs and Fall
Every word the same, every face known,
Every day a rhyme
Ether to amber to stone
Fruit cake and peppermints
Candlelit stockings the children
Swat at
Christmas syllables, sentiment
Sung until the liquor melts
Candy canes and magenta leaves
And the sleep
And tinsel trees

I am a reflective adjective
Of the universe
A TITAN spurned
The surface of water resealed
Bones, turned
I am DESIGN
Deoxyribo Helix nebulae
Memories of the taste of snow
Shivering, sailing Boggy Bay
I am my grandfather’s hands
Teasing the keel
I remember
And my brother can’t heal
Our loved ones now vapor and
Preserved teeth
I too hunger
And will meet relief

The primordial ooze moves with Gravity,
needing to see
Mistakes the motion for greatness,
the movement detected only in the imagination,
 shaping us into what we next will be.  
 Sometimes, Time slows until we are just a face, a breath and a word.  
 And we accept this weight of a memory.

Nuphar carlquistii; disheveled parish; her dynasty
Deoxyribonucleic barcode, celestry
E Chord, timbre and thunder
The moon is delicious, burnt umber
Whose tomb, Venus
What heir to the doom of ,
What plant pruned, sheared from
The bemuse of the dead, the naught
The wreath of fig leaves, the drum beat
Frought

Atmosphere[at-muh s-feer], here the ALWAYS of breath
The KNOW of time,
Farming insanity from the rhyme of
Death, its shoulders doused with the soot
Of consequence
The spindled boys trapping crawdaddies
In a creek the
Singe of honey crusted meat
The scent of honeysuckle
Stained yellow with summer Sun
Their words undoing, undone
The poetry of mother’s sons

When waters are so slowed to tepid
And are infected and
Draw breath, and heartbeats detected for medication
Because disease is self-feeding
And forming nations

The great lung stirs us
Small hands shaking rocks
Let the rhythm distill us
Beneath waves that froc

Hunters, smiling
Hone spear heads with granite
And gunpowder; and artillery
Dear God, why give us a planet

How to build a boat from tree
How to leave the sands
How to turn the oars, free
The great lung, of clouds, demands

Watching trees fillet their kernels of the universe
into inverted green dissections,
the crazy killers.  
I at least ignore mine until they scab over and infect
And I develop quite the vicious intellect.

Sometimes I have to wonder if I itch
Because my blood wants to go
God is tired of me loving seasons
He just lit this cherry bomb and waits for it to
Explode

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