Tracing the hour,
The distance I follow,
Wands and Auroras,
These echoing phrases,
These expiates of shadow.
Angels and Sailors of far of seas,
Ghosts ships of carrion,
This unknowledgeable surrender,
This last ember,
A blazing Supernova.
This rung down the ladder,
Barkok and Liszt,
Stickball in high summer,
Unraveling spector
Of chariots and Pharaohs,
Matresses of mourning,
Days of black shoes,
Pairs that tread the same dirt road.
Venturing clouds,
These invisible evenings,
A burned mound of wheels,
Converging signals
Alinged to one.
Horses braying a symphony of dust.
The end and the beginning Never touching the middle,
Straddling curve space time,
A stratosphere of clouds.
Cobweb hung planets,
Their rings revolving
The shining simmer
In the final arc of sun.
Just outside Nebraska,
Down Highway 1A,
Charles Starkweather Haunts
Gretchen lost ghost.
The dark specter residing
In old Elmer's cornfield,
It moans and shudders
The grave hours passing
Like strands on a string.
Bombardiers blasting
The last metal gun tower,
As Churchill railed the invading Blitzkrieg,
Sending out the Valiant
To apocalypse the hour.
Long rainy seasons,
The trees weeping
The last wilting flower's lonely despair..
The rim of the hour
Dialing shadows dreary filing
Down corridors of clocks,
A Canticle of stars, the dark night revolving,
One billion Angels sing to the light.

A pale horse riding
Atop a dark Vista,
Knowing what name
Is writ in the dust

Eschewing lineage
Of Abel's dark brother,
Red roses bleed
In Neptune's cold sun.

Here at the bottom
Of Mickey's lost hour,
All rails terminate,
The end if the line.

The pen is my muse
A linier connection,
Writing Mozart's
Concerto of rust,

An ill wind finds
It's way with the weather,

A muttering stranger
Lost in the rain.

These bleating words coming
In hollow smoke signals,
Chittering of nothing
Drunk on the stoop


Pinned to your sleeve
Like a hag in a *******,
A crumb for the gods
So easily amused.


Dredging the dregs
Of one's own possessions,
Setting them down
In buckets of rain.

A sad reminder
Rimmed with compulsion,
A harbinger skittering
Alone in the dirt.

Here in the mill
Stinking of textile,
Memories haunt
A crumbling wall.

No need to mention,
It comes when it wants to,
A brutish devil
Whispers obliquely,

I cannot remember
What dream I've become.

I kneel in the night,
The tigers surround me,
Strange dreams in half- life
Blue saucers of sun.

Here in the dark square,
Ring up Odessa,
It presees the future,
So fast and so numb.

In the depth of the Maelstrom,
Abyss in the darkness,
Hollow upon
A billion blood sea,

As fish swim Lakes
Black at the bottom,
Ghosts of oblivion
Dance in the clouds.

Twice what it's worth
Is half it undoing,

No I remember
What dream I've become.

The hoofs and horses burn in the twilight,
As you count breaths between the stirring Of bees.
Oncoming traffic like a beads on a string,
The Woodworker's rasp,
The beekeeper's screen,
Diamond headlights,
Oncoming rain,
A transparent light,
The stirrings of leaves,
Gravity ground in a ceiling of sky.
In a dry place, the Oracle's
Lost meaning,
A hole in the center of the Sphinx blind eye.
I ply my hand to broken wheel moonlight,
A servitude of stars,
These muttering clouds,
A musty collection of shanties and shacks.
I caught the last sleep to black and white rails,
Slap boards passing, a flickering screen,
In a a theatre of stars and orbits,
A string hang on a ceiling so sweet.
As dogs and birds welcome Blue Heaven,
JESUS SAVES plasters Route 10, Is it West Mex or East Tex
Or is it the same?
Dark buttes, silhouettes, bare bulbs and bugs.
Ariels deep in dark desert valley,
The scent of box elder set in the sun.
The Oracle of day draws you in deeper,
Like a reptile burrowed in the heat of high noon.
A trial by fire, a light like no other,
What wildflowers lurk in the Devil's dark garden?
Witch grass and juniper smelling like rain.
A limestone Chateaux dreary long hours,
In a place surrounded by four walls and a bed,
Scavenging shoes in the dark of the day.
Black spiders in closets hunt along runnels,
A quivering fly caught in a trance.
A brief disconnection,
Ten thousand night and five Fridays ago,
So said the tombstone to each blade of grass.
Gravity Good Mother, teach us a lesson, tied to this tether,
This searing vibration,
A rust belt corrodes the American Dream,
As gulls wheel industrial blight.
Cherry Blue Jewel, the last drop of water,
Glass curtains cover the winnowing storm.
Twilight and half moons,
Long shiny autos,
All the starlets rise with the night.
Pieces and fragments, in abstract arrangement,
Aged black men fishing rivers of cattails.
Asleep in the dusk, a tinkling currant,
My own echo leaving a hollow in air.
Times emollient, 5 beads on a string,
Pharaohs and Pharisees,
A beekeeper's screen,
Shadows caught in a quivering dream.

In a time without clocks,
I dial the sun,
All these sketches drawn
In the dirt.,
My grief is among them,
Drawing dark clouds.
These mechanics of night,
The stars are a whirring,
Relics and rust, sand belts of ruin,
How does one fathom such loss?
This felicity of loss,
Why pander such madness?
At the rim of hour,
The sky holds no grievance,
The orchestra mimics the fifth movement if time.
They wave to the sentries,
The stars have all vanished.
Skylarks and Seraphim
Flit the high wire.
The stone farmhouse,
Still life in winter,
A decanter of dreams,
What were we saying?
Hands move in the motion of dark clocks of ruin,
Picture framed ghosts,
Sure they dark wonder,
Adjoining shadows of dreary
Dark rain.
Cobweb hung night dreams,
Rooms full of clutter never waking the day.
Vespers hung on a string of no stars.
Trembling already, God strips me naked,
Walks with me to a river of stones.
Shadows mingle around us so mottled,
While other shadow gather,
We remember their name.
Never touching the other,
They flee to the darkness.
Unraveling clouds, they witness to others,
In hieroglyphics boxcar of rain.
Wheels turning, the dark engines rumble,
Ghost sparks and whistles,
Through hillbilly towns that have no name.

Fro and yaw,
I've taken on water,
Jamming the frequency with static.
A strange adjustment of ratchets and pawls.
Hot Cherry, bane of my life,
I get your final comedown.
Some feely f#€k encounter,
**** the story,
It's here,
And here, and here.

Moonlit, the silence of dirt,
I've got to tear down these walls,
You swore it was Heaven,
The way the carwash was lit
With the last of summer,
A blip on the cosmic calendar
Wanderlust.
Everything pales in the plain,
Silverfish run under the streetlights,
Put it all on dust radio,
And it comes down when it **** well pleases.

It all pales in the noon,
Some obscure ghosts,
Brandy Alexander's in the moonlight,
Practiced Pretty Boy nod off
At the bar,
Some swimming nighttime dark Enchantress,
Vexing succubus, Waking
To the stench of smelly sheets
Drawing in this manifold nightmare,
Red toenails and blood wisp at midnight.

Like a hollow drum I pound,
Pierced and yellowed
And worn clear through.
There's a fog along New Gloucester
And a monster prowls the highway,
Running along darkened trails,
******* what light there is.
It has some fact and form,
It's mostly obscured by clouds,
Hiding in the scrim of a bare field,
It moans the hour of waking.

Suffer the children to come to Thee,
There lies the Kingdom of Glory,
While I bide my time in this Habit,
Cinched up tight for your disapproval.
I may mire and muck the proceedings.
I'm like a train wreak at noon
And a wheel turning in the sun.
And I'll mercy your begotten Laury,
And ****** away the light.

Weak words like tea in an old woman's cup,
There here amongst the clutter,
Perhaps in this room with a broken clock,
An old wristwatch,
A dusty beer bottle stood on end.
Broken records with pirate songs of old,
More a distant cry,
A mournful calling.

O sure, I've spent time on the Du Da Ranch,
Dreaming potato pancakes,
A Denver with coffee.
Who said time would sneak up like this,
Nipping at our heels?
Stealing time like a thief.
It's a swan in the lake,
A spider in the room,
Shoeboxes of old photos covered in dust.
A rusted ***** stuck in the jamb.
Bleak moments in the rain,
Holocaust survivors in grainy images.
Here comes Herman Goring
Dressed as Santa,
All smiles and candy for the children.

It's a mad dash for the Happy Trails Back Home.
Venus, my baby, tell me
Something on this naked night?
Good God Night Love,
Grab the rails.
It's a dinosaur running the highway,
Overloaded from Michigan
To Indy City,
Funky info to nowhere.
I got another Disco Mania Movement
All drew up in my mind.
Nothing in the pipes, no matter,
No more pizzazz along the avenue,
Kinda lay out and lay low,
Get my drift,
While I pick dead man's bones one at a time.
I got 209 of em-
What's your story?