I could spend lifetimes staring at

the half-lit wick that glows behind your eyes

That twinkle that make the stars seem sickly

and the dawn seem a dreary maze

-

Fear may be the mind killer

but anticipation goes for the heart

Breathing to break the anxious calm

that accompanies this unknowing

-

Yours are the words that bound me

and yours are the words that beckoned me into the fire

This is my punishment

Without you, I fall

A dream over due
1999
september
it is august
the flies are insects
growing the Vice apple between the graying chicago winter fern of the ******
towering
empty parking lot super market trees
brown
baige
***** and autumn
skin like apple sauce
dancing inside the mirror of Lust and his Sister Fresno California
On a Payphone
At a Fuel Station
Lights all Blue
Lights all dull
dullified by the gasoline
the cigarette butts that collect in the mouths of mountain saints
Capture Zen
Burn all the books that led you too led poisoning

I am Van Gogh
Scrapping off the dried paint of my walls
of my women
naked in my bed of a hope factor

I am going insane
and the stars do not mind
the Clouds seem to be careless
Vagabond seasonal weather Kansas

Everybody is on the Train
headed to Dreams
100 dollars a ticket
Give me your Wallet
your Sister
your Sins
your nights and your day-shadows bouncing off walls and mailboxes like school-boy toys
your
you're
Insight
Outsight
Farsight
Downsight
Glancing at the peripheral French Decedent girl with black hair
hair black like wet once lit cigarettes

God, smoking a cigar made in The Ol' Great West of timber and the elderly gasping away their lives as a window sits neatly with tundra flowers
and a cacti that never dies
Winter comes in a Van
Full of soup
Full of the Dead Children of Days on in
Full of Dogs with rabies
Full of Cheap women
who gave up on 7:30
and washed their hands in the juices of an Apple Eve sank her yellow teeth into

Savage
Savage

Headlights heading towards Home
Towards Late-Night Television

Oven on

God and Satan
Spooning on the water bed of America
America the great
America the greed
America the want

America the me
you
her
Dog
Pigeon on the side street of NYC push town till suit bye Death

Coffin constructed of Iron and Filled with Wine
Coffin made by a young man sitting in his jacket
smoking a neat cigar
smoking with Gin
Gin
Gin
Gin
The Fireplace is where we may have made Love
But the Heat was ours
and the Torn down back door back yard Tall 100 year old Tree
has left
only a Stump
A beginning of its sprout from a seed
to a Giant
to a home for Birds and Flies and ants and rodents

I am in the Tower
Drinking your Whiskey
Drinking the lipstick of a woman who has nothing to do
so she falls in love with the Shadows of night bricks
of City Street Walls and streets
Swerving
entwining
Curving
Doubting
Ditching

Like love it self
Left out in the Sun
Left with the cacti of Old Age
old hands and old eyes that quiver like melting ice in the 90 degree Texan weather

We run to the fountain of Youth
but the gates are closed
The Pool boy quit his Job
and now the water in contaminated

Drink Vinegar
Drink Chlorine
Clear the mind
the hairs on your chest
the Teeth in between your Chin and Lips

It is no Longer Time
it is no Longer Past
Future
Clean
*****
Washed
Murdered by a knife

It is no longer 1AM
and the Sky wants me to wake up

But the Coffee Machine is crooked and only works if I hold it at an angle

Goodbye Crows of Brooklyn
I'll be on the payphone collect call to subconscious

I'll be on the road
traveling with my hair
traveling with Life
traveling with Destiny and Hope and Emily Tennessee

5 dollars a gallon

the way you have your way
i might as well choke on Atlantis
and yield to the twilight pitchfork
of your tongue. an amaranth.
whose nectar
is some
doom.

glue my misery
to the slippery
*****
of lost meaning....
all the while
meaning to do so -
a
farsight
more so
than knot
cope.
but
somehow, jellyfish blinder
than up close...
and
not quite
seeing
what matters
most.

just the sting.

I confess to you
I hardly confess to her.

Why I say this is
I often deliberately miss
To say the sorry-s I owe her
For having found fault with her
Only discovering after some hours
It was me who was wrong all along
What she did was amply right
What she did was with farsight
Her acts take care of only my needs
My wants she always perfectly reads.

A piece of the dairy white sweet in my lunchbox
Soft silken milky treat
When melts in my mouth
I remember this morn I told her
Why you bring these ****** plain sweets
And not those juicy colored scented treats
Don’t put any of those in my lunchbox
Not caring her face’s strains of shocks!

I have forgotten though she has remembered
My utterings of emotion its every word
How I miss dear those plain white sweets
Pure unencumbered most delightful treat.

I have forgotten she remembers
My companion of all weathers
She picks my choice she knows my mind
Yet for her a sorry I hardly find.

*Don’t you think tonight in her ears
I should coo a sorry in unuttered whispers?

oh daddy, i just wish you could've seen
the look you wore on your reddened face.
maybe your glasses were unclean,
but you looked like you'd been hit by our celestial mace

my girl, my girl, who are you?
all rebelious and grown and so young?
when have you mastered
this strengh, this courage?
i completely forgot how it's done.

oh daddy, don't worry
i still believe in myself.
improved version, no doubt,
but at least i have found
the courage to scream
and run through the fields,
without ever letting out
as much as a mouse when it squeals.


my girl, my girl, how foolish of you.
to believe in this world,
to think love will be true
is to chase a dream, maybe one, maybe two.
i am baffled to hear
what your mother made so clear
coming out from
the insides of you.

oh daddy, my daddy, i've promised i will
countless times, countless rhymes,
there's no more ink in my quill.
but still, i wonder, how far i must go
to discover sweet land promised to us eons ago.

my girl, my girl, i know you must go
but i'm terrified, so terrified
of letting you go, so lonely
so young, i'm scared beyond words
and your mother will surely be hurt.
nevertheless, i know you must go
so i ask one last thing before you do so:
when things are going down,
when you feel like you're going to drown
always remember where this place is, home.

pockmarks bomb the oblivious cavalcade wet dripping nuisance cataracts Holy stove to the tracks Grow missile candide fenesin shovel living space
loved back the feeding Farsight
nowhere near the ending candy torpid glasses
foul just situation beat down the what eyelash grasp of following feathers
mine jaundiced knuckles