Letter, letter born to return to sender--
extra-marital, maritime, marine, mercy, mercy mine--
two drinks in; four from home,
letter, letter born to return to sender--
.38 special, sexless, spiteful, spitting, spitting rites--
three drinks in; three from home,
letter, letter born to return to sender--
double-decker, drugged, dangerous, daggers, daggers dried--
four drinks in; two from home,
letter, letter born to return to sender--
clusterfucked, fancy-free, foreign, fine, fine unwind,
five drinks in; one from home,
letter, letter born to return to sender--
ether cloud, Evelyn, earthware, everyday, everyday signs--
six drinks in; on the carpeted floor,
letter, letter born to return to sender,
whitewashed, weakly, wounded, wishing, wishing for home.

Here we are again, in the deathmask of the city spinning.
The circumcised sea with its crocodiles and scars.
Never is the onrush of blood so violent the falsehoods
of the sky that drip neon on our heads
from desiccated clouds so true

This is the wild:

To the clusterfucked and cloistered swimming
in their bowls of soup and the scuttled
shells synchronous in their bass pulse beeping
to the blackhats who don’t believe
their messiah will ever come because they hear
the trump of doom every second of every day
yet they still stomp in their flatbeds for joy

and the prismatic dead who drag themselves from
their gurneys to march through the alleys
like tuskless elephants shoving their fingers
into the sun’s fumarole determined
to disintegrate into a mist of Krylon and copper

where we carry our concrete world slung
over our shoulders and the ravenous
moon in its ellipse above beached night heaving,
eyes curling in their sockets like gunsmoke smoldering
hearts humming like taut snares beheaded fish
in front of us, beheaded bodies behind us
I drag mine along by the hair.

To the children and the panhandlers who greet
the lion like hello kitty
and the skittish magnetic few in their
lightning-spaded furrows
on the ecliptic chained but leaping ever farther
and higher like the wrecking ball’s pendulum

and all the naked lost milling among the mummified
tenements, waving Geiger counters before them
as they wander  the sweaty street holding their heads
high as they grind flesh against flesh
pulverizing themselves into rubble

measuring the toll of time by destruction  
drinking in mercury and hard water and
shrapnel and gamma and fire and gold

to them I say:

turn your hourglass on its side turn
your hourglasses on their sides
then acknowledge me so I can die in peace.

The sludge
of mud
       that creeps up
to my eyes
squelches me
down like quicksand
***** a large
breathing object
                         into
its grainy film
an antithesis
       of sea
lungs sputtering
out brain reeling
in remnants of
clusterfucked,
panic –driven
welting
and I am ready to
burst out
legs trapped
yet voice high
heart squealing
in the fire
bring me to
somewhere
it’s a situation
                    dire
this madness
cupping me through
time-realms
and I must find it
that liquid that
wet flow of writhing
struggling
breaking
            free
of those heavy bands
of slimy kelp
holding me
squirm me out
I don’t care
if I get the
muck of centuries
in my hair
for in my veins
my blood does see
I crave the sunlight's
strokes
and
        I
            must
breathe

silence sight
eyelids, translucent
terrestrial extras exhumed
reveling in revival
planting placid plateaued plates
herd-conformity in place of fascism

enter the beast

on the flip side of 50/50
unjust equals harbor resentment
clipping thorns to spite the roses
sunbeams encased and entangled
misguided light
might travel, through night
harrowed neo-liberalism
clusterfucked hippies into redundancy

"can you feel it now? **** im high"

conform to eradicate conformity
individually divided
arguably arrogant
and surely surreal