Oh, Christ Am I death? Everyone has always looked at me so Eerily Perhaps my mother split me with Time I am Gravity’s cantileve. An imaginary house I revisit in Capillaries crackling with dreams
A forest; the woods. Time's apothecary Mix your hands up to the arms in Dirt and leaves Until there's no difference Petiole and vein, Recollect Chemistry
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
Tithing ,the soul The eyes The ocean breathes Tides Blue is Earth, universe But our blood is aged and stagnant Recirculated red And the microscopic wet lizard spirits Breed until their voices grip our heads
Every term of the universe is a human verb They are fused in necklaces we don't disturb. There are gods and we make them constellations From my porch we finger their cancerous radiation
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
***** 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
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
I swear to Christ and Holy God I want one more insight like a dog screaming barks in the dark at unknown intruders. I want to jump so I have a heart because I’m afraid it will break under the moment. And then I know I was built because I didn’t make it myself and so it has a purpose but I don’t know it. Until it jumps again.
The foliage twists out of the ground like sick infection, and we marvel at the flowers. Imagine a carousel so old we rode it in black and white and dreamed the colors Childhood breaks atop the crease between sleep and history I am the weights of every day, like stars pulling one another. Never cowering from the hours
I guess Jesus ventured so we’d have skin. A difference between water and benevolence I love the urge to defy a God who wills such resistance to the fog Of time, Pump Gypsies, folded trachea, funeral attendees and the cloveture between of all Raindrops in the Andelluvian sea. Time and People dissolving the I Believe.
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
Slider, this Cellular vestibule Pink-yellow capillarium **** sack, wretched thump sump Stuffed with sauce and rind “I was always meant to go” He said on the way out of his mind The *** Runner and his misbehaving Alchemy, of blood stunted By the soot of Planetary catastrophe
I Hate it when Time 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
There’s never enough time left for me Swinging from the rafters of the universe A proper God adjusts his creatures And man recollects in annotated verse
My cabbaged heart The layers dried and peeled Like a fleshy carnation But brewed like camomile
I sleep beneath the vespers I wretch until my fingers break From my ribcage seize a bone Take thy bread, forgive the taste
The past casts light as a faint star on the edge of space Reaching from the depths of depthless black The Caretaker sifts fingers between the soot It’s my fault, He says. And molecules can’t come back It’s madness The cobbler draws his eyepiece, selects a tack History is a sheath of imagination tucked at the seams Their words the clack of the planets on their tracks Heaven is the never we forever grieve
A sunny field 1977, thistle-trees-stirring-the-blue-orange-sky memory ripened, beaded up fruit wet between my teeth. I dream Childhood with an eccentricity, An ache and I wonder How my mind makes up such things Why from it I woke and can’t go back to Sleep
Lungs are His cathedrals, on this night A Boeing 737-7 cuts a spotlight between twilight and dream Gods breath carving alveoli with a 10:35 flight across rib bone and destiny It is the curse of existence, trajectory Neither sleep nor sunrise will stabilize me
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
From Infinity stars to infinity grass beneath my feet Infinite molecules dropping the ceiling to eternity The first stars didn’t sing They drew the darkness from relativity They were God, falling Like Insanity, a happenstance of a gravity And so there is a sun And heated seas that pump me for teeth and symmetry
Ferreting intwo self annihilation we My siblings Ram our heads against the calculations Chalkboard twilight plus afternoon plus alcohol is Poetic, tropical annilihatuon.
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
Life is industry Because there are 7.5 billion scampering casts of lungs and livers. Cogs of machinery. Greased and repaired and tedious Like the finest clockwork of the futility Of money Hoping elegance is eternity.
The first chore of consciousness is to remember that it is darkness, and that some of that darkness is bone. Its these molecules that grew tired from all the fuss of Gravity and slowed, and built a circular cathrdral and from it cast long outreaches ******* more but its not enough so there is skin, sailed between and catching breath for the movement dreamed.
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.
You’ve got to Tumble atoms into reaction Like playing with my wild dog Like digging ditches or squeezing Honeysuckle until the smell won’t wash off your fingers Break the seals off a Twilight That lingers
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.
You can’t cut silence with light. It’s not that fast You’ve seen Death in reflections It’s where autumn leaves cross-stitch a path
I cannot **** God head on with helmet It takes glances of a short sword When words skip steps and seasons stutter The universe is math blocks slowly toppled with ROAR
Oh, Christ Am I death? Everyone has always looked at me so Eerily Perhaps my mother split me with Time I am Gravity’s cantileve. An imaginary house I revisit in Capillaries crackling with dreams
God will die from art All of the decanted kerosene
The moon as a field of headstones placed before The Flocks of marrow, Silver tipped 737 searching cloud covers for the ghosts responsible. A Grand Opening Store has a spotlight spearing the night as high As I can imagine air goes before it Is space And I trace the distance through the windshield, hoping everyone Sees such blasphemy because maybe We can all finally breathe, counting how many steps it takes to leave
I can't wait to be stardust again Protein and bone ends And at Gravity's chagrin Set the course of the rivers bend I can't wait to be no more than churn Mistaken for blood mud Like red clay in the sun's burn And picked over for His ecclesiastic thud And rhymed with Time; the poet's sweet crud
The momentary sunset conducts what Words find the airwaves between Those seconds I awoke and was aware Of the atmosphere, still just a dream The math of desire, of conjuring What overturns regret and Mother Nature The simple clockwork of my hunger Time distilling the heart’s legislature
The rinsed stars shimmer with the love Of a newborn beneath a tinsel crown Molecules as cicadas in rivulets of dawn Chatter a new birth language gravity downs
The fervor of a Kiss until it carves Jupiter red pyro igneous Hieroglyphs The butter whipped June peppermint seed Brewing ale, casting poetry; restoring Myth
Plant your timber limbs of thistle atop the mantle Ascend the feathered plane of interstellar nurseries Wrest with the havoc of Euclidean measure Conversations, constellations; and we all fall to infinity
The demons’ decibel blocks situate at every opening to sunlight, Every sliver of a mirror to the outer reaches Of my fear of falling into the blue of sky Past air, past God. Into the …
Laze are the demons for gravity comes with ease Stumbling until their blocks stifle every eve.
My grandmother does not want us to succeed. She was but good at breeding For we are here and we seethe
Every Bible verse rhymes with Sanctuary The hum drum of music mimics the heartbeat In case we forget, or we grieve Memory
She rises in a body I can’t forget, I crave; I tease.
A hotel room overlooking a Louisianan Oil Refinery A city of stacks burning hydrocracked gasoline The lights reflecting the constellations above; eternity She cradles my delusions in this nursery
Stripped of their fleshy chests, words are just bones and gristle threading teeth that eat them. Feel time, in its natural twilight, run over the words until they are just beads at the bottom of a good sleep which is all childhood is anyway. Why you had superpowers and different worlds and falls and bee stings didn’t hurt,