Hazelnut oribts,
The laughter and spindling limbs
According the key of youth
It’s my turn to spin
Atmosphere breathes in
Car accidents we dream
The schools parcel calendars
Square dances;
If childhood exists, I mean

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

The ravaged ribcage,
That ghoul beneath the peeling stage,
Gravity-bent bone, harpsichord racks
We stack with swollen amber sacs
Of vibrato beats seething with the heat of friction
From my race through an historical fiction
(Of  forged tax collector receipts
And hospital records of symptoms and disease)
I crave release,
I stand on the rim of sleep
and dare myself to leap.  
                       To slip beneath the dream.

Screaming, Lord cut the moon’s craters
Feasts of Saturnalia
A Christian cradle rocked by star lit satyrs
Hominidae, Chordata,  Angelus Mammalia
The bough broke, blood crescent in
Declination
First steps stir the Ocean of Storms
Frankincense, Myrrh,  
And Damnation
So sung are hymns, harvested lullabies,
Libations
Time, the Christ teeters as a top
Narration

It’s a goblet of sailing brain
without eyes or spine or lungs or need:
Jellyfish.  It seems God’s friction
deposited a hundred million billion of His clones in our Ocean.
The children of a Dream.
They are there and nothing all at once
Like religion
And we would never notice
But for the pain and screams.

Euclidian rain dilapidated the sultry
The restful pull of Humanity
Separating the heavy stones of sin
From the face of sanity
We are what begin when
Time decides to breathe again
“Here is a scene that keeps playing in my head
It is sunburnt, the air is dead and the honeysuckle fries
As this car glides to a bleached shack.  
And I know that ****** means I can’t go back”

There is no residence for
Artistry
No hovel to weather
Irreversing streams
NO declaration of
Habeous means
Simply conversation
And the corpse’s watch, ticking…

Welded 7 tomes and wrapped sacrament paper about the very thing; Somer tomes,
soldered to sacrifice and daylight running as
mercury off of adam’s bones honed to a south American river peak; Invenerate mammalia rollicking atop
she shocked herself to see another sun light in the blinds.;  
He mended caverns and she hung across them, strung out.

Hands tire, expire in
The thump of the stars encircling the world
The lust of atmosphere, caring for the waters
Nestling in the dark soot of gravity, it curls

That memory, we drove into
The mountains, Autumn unfurled its burnt
Tongue and we lingered in the Us
(What God hoped we weren’t)

I’ll miss your touch when Time
Cries ENOUGH, the symmetry of hope
Grasping at my shoulder, my face
If only Life weren’t a forever *****

Thoughts, ideas, inclinations given to gravity
like all other heavenly bodies,
their declinations rendered by the shift of Alpha Centauri
or 666 Desdemona or the sudden texture of a moment whipped with scenery
like scrubbrush or unintended asides
there is no place for a soul to hide,
                                             not on any plane

Our alabaster skeletons,
our framework of ancient spires
arching to the heavens and
hung with multicolored glass
sunlight pours through as visitors gasp
and kneel and besmirch and knock over
Muscadine,
the Eucharist and Time.

Hours sour with humanity seizing
The sump pump of the universe
Dissolving another poet
Yet the rivers never reverse

The detonation of the human being
We are the universe when it is seeing
what becomes of light in the grasp of gravity
I long for when things were elementary

She hopes for angels
And maps the pathos of disease
Cygnus x-1 ignites its plasma
In the key of God leaving

It is a play, this Man
Its words loosened from earth
Soot and gravity rendering arms
Imagination and the Bible verse

She took what was the motion of a butterfly
And from it made Believing
Under Sunday tides of breathing
She damns this Life for its Being

Remember that the ghosts of black-and-white photos could breathe
Their blood sung waterfalls in an unnamed key.  
Men ran like machinery and they could hate and breed
God's distended bowels spun into Humanity

Admit it
Your heart is an old light bulb in
Your grandmother’s basement
And it will never be better lit
Than what God you believed in
Then

Opulent ****, the crystal of
Poetry, the pings of piano keys
Pyroclastic hearts wrenching symphony
From between the shadows  
Trees cast as alive as cicadas
Entreating the streets
I mean to keep everything I see
Holidays and the sear of sunlit memory
Gathered as petals about my feet
Our love as scripture
Wrapped with palm leaves, Soaked in honey
Preserved for eternity

Delivered as Child
I am to be a son
I am to become a man
I will cast the role of my old age
I am rage...

...not unfurled, curled or the world’s it is just another twirl into the vapor of godly entrails hopping bartending spirits remaining aghast at the cross firing back sparks of the universe, the remarks it takes for granted, the relationships it stains with the revenue of heartache and the generosity of the insane I remain uninterested in Time, in the mind of nature resting itself between the toeholds of gravity on the breeze, the wheat, the fleet of glances I cast her. The ever after crafted by poets and thieves and the deceit of my pleas ******* the gaze of eternity...

Fold and fold - endocrine leaf lets the wind
Unwrap and re-blend; the butterfly begins
Cram, dance; a league of sin
Reckon the world rolls away - The End
Death swept into the recycle bin
Smiles are sorcerers freckling the skin
God is the mandible and chin
And She is the rhythm that turns me in

Time rides its great steel grate with
the heavy weight the universes machinery
takes.
Hotter than a call house on nickel night
Cracking the teeth and bleeding gums

on the hate.

I muddy bare arms until I can’t tell them from the dirt
and wait
Life, the gray sound of rolling tires;
procurement, parchment, pamphlets

unlocking the gates.

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

I am dynamo hunkering
beneath twilight I overthrew
the tracks of singular adulthood
they cut through
forests of script and charter review
the blue red of every sunset lit
with the chemicals of regret
warm my fingers, my connection to this earth
the first prods I withdraw
with the demons hurrah
as tenement clubs, stained wood lungs and parchment.
I wish for every soul to be saved
by rite of regret

Childhood, a delicious vision of swishing hips
Resisting time with a telescope’s persistence
Distance is Age* (*the Rage of
Existence)
The Calabash Nebula, its bipolar
Remembrance
the fisticuffs of proteins
Insane with the interstellar
Insistence
of Conversations, and our minds each wove a;
My brother, the medicated super nova

Stargazer fish, of tactile scope, a firm apparatus of sullen sail
taking on watercrest and nests in song,
in rivaling storyboards hoping children read along
of the pirate’s appendage, the moonlight, the claim rights
every night cries for a villaness to bombard
plunder,
scuttling poetry under
foamy humpback water melted from night sky,
arriving in tides named for our stride

Hesperian Period(Hesperia Planum):
Where tidal palms carried the sky
Rocks churned dust with anticipation
Of *******, sing Halleluyah

Amber rivers,
a tome of time and grace
The soft intent of neoprene limbs
Stepping in and out of gait

Raindrops sing al-be-do
Criss-cross-ing chords of rage, ‘ate’
Simple cells rotting into culpable hoes
Sorting star dust from anno dominae

When the molecules have warmed over
As invading soldiers toting sunlight on their shoulders
Will it all be for a breath?  
We are forever gravity falling faster than our death.  

We draw in the sand our *** language,
Our concerns the condensation on a boiler;
Alone in a universe rumbling with stars
Let the Time do clunk and spoil her

The thunder of the Undone
Strikes flint against kerosene soaked lives
REVIVE
The strive that counter balances the heartbeat
****** my lethargic hands into the heat
Birds are the ability for chemistry to seek
Weather is meat slung from the bone
Writhing language lashed against teeth
Beat this misspent life to stone

Darwin carts the wind from the eaves
Those Dark, bent constellations we hone
Into the annals of the horizon; our keep
Is where Time and Gravity are sewn

She is the solar reign
Hers is the birth and the death
Of fantasy, religion, and acclaim
My universe laughs with every breath

Childhood is a shelf
(And I just disqualified this poem)
What is a sunrise serves the self
(And you're wishing for a line to throw em)

My grandfather skirted summer on a skif
(Here's a captain/sea reference)
What childhood knows is gods and man
(Insert visions of blonde teens covered in sand)

Humanity is defined as persistence times grief
(See, stanzas are just the principles of belief)
I never became more than a child wanting the beach
(Emotion for me is just out of reach)

Wait for the stars to collide
So our minds set aside
Grasp and its innumerable calculations
The cellular breath of her new sensations

Hypocrisy is the bend of civilization
The dogma of the surviving
A blood-soaked officer’s badge
Gravity of a supernova undying

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

Rainfaring
Seminal beat, “.08 BAC
phosphorylating proteins
β-adrenoceptor viral
disease”,
He wheezed
In the driveway of
The wrong house
Cabernet Savignon
Telling him now

I wish for him meteorites
The horror of disastering
Interplanetary play
Setting him alight
With angel soot on solar wings
Soul whetting

Alcohol is
The warming of your soul
Next to the comet tail
Igniting the dark infinity
With colors to set sail

The swirls of Jupiter are your
Doubts at war with themselves
Time is the fuel to stoke
Our blood the tempests we delve

My lungs bled from broken eggs;
how does water broker where they go…
What they are a cathedral for…

If only Time didn’t have a say,
If there was no roaring universe washing us away.  
We could spend ourselves in warm blankets, perched in snow
Watching The Clockwork through a telescope

No memories undertoe

The bespoked branch whips its tendril wrists into moonlit so winded I gave up breathing
Stripping midnight of the exhausted blue atmosphere so poetically I’ve no reason to wake up,
Having heard now everything worth believing
With nothing to let up.

The indignant mantle of an idiot
Shorn, wooden shoulders rotted to bone
Dusted for flavor; dentil houndstooth coat
A book on plural morality and a scone

No rhyme, no meter; no whim and seether
Wingclipped hair and a fingered smile
Through the prism of Penchant spun on axis
In the dictionary he locates G for guile

Memory is a Kaleidoscopic note,
The rope strung through childhood I yoke,
Pull until sunlight bleeds
Across a fuzzy menagerie:
Fists of curls tossed into a world of red clay,
Barcaloungers dusted with cigarette trays
Scowling autumn beasts relieved of teeth.  
(The sky runs long with outstretched arms when you are three)
Or four or more and falling for the promise of alcohol,
Girls with pink breath, and the enthrall
Of a cantilevered highway along cattails and thrush
Memory girds my mind along God’s hushed
Mind

Ebullient field of stars throbbing with nectar;
Startling the void,
The hum of insects rising as a voice
Searing off the thromboids
My bent chest, arrested with the weight
Of heavenly urchins Time and Scene
Wake me from their undulating chords
Explain in plainsong what it means

The air is never meant to prince
To the king, Leaden Gravity
Nor the light let loose its leather reigns
On the chariot’s calamities
Err to the night, its frozen breath
Sing over its shoulders, undertow
All gravesites crown with fresh bouquets
Everyone who will never know

Poetic astronomy:
the clash of living on stars
counting rhyming bars
alighting the gravitational pull of personalities,
the reason for trees,
the need to bleed.
I Let Time ruin everything.  

God is the key in which we speak.
What eeks between His heartbeats
A Childhood seen from the knees
All Memory is me deceived

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

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 grass rises wild,
flowers blasting
from the poets grave but
He did dream of cosmos fisherman
and is casting.

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

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

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’

I Hate it when Night presses its depthless face against the GLASS
and I have to Fight the urge to walk PAST the bulbs on the stars coming loose,
like all seas do,
and HIS hands, like they’re depicted in cathedrals:
carved from clubs,
dirt in the creases,
waving in the darkness

and wonder if I will LAST

Sunlight
Righting my horizon
The intellect of fashion gasping with Reaction
Outside a door I’ll never open
3,555 day incubation
Cement the locks
A stocked wine cellar in my imagination
Is burrowed into the earth, pardon the roots
(we believe animals have rights, too)
The mole, the rat and Chateau Malrome Cuvee
I fall into my mind until I cannot breathe
                                                                       (teehee)

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.

***** hysteria
Limp along consonants
Ladder up the laughter
Falling down repairs
Disingenuous social party -
Razor thin grins and
Tightly-woven stares

Wave at the waste
Wavering gasps, the pain
Hip and wrists dissolving
Dance, their words in vain
A Princess-cut moon
An encrusted crown
Colors eyes blue
And I drown

****-tails

Took a photo of Jupiter through my telescope
And it’s moons
And I showed it to friends and they knew of it
A portrait photo of family in some Sunday afternoon
When the world was childhood and creatures brewed

Too deep now to hold my breath to

My body never did what I wanted it to
A graveyard by a river
It never flew