I am Marmeladov
Perched as if I were a Father Clock
A Wasp
A Fly
An ant crawling towards the jar of sugar
Stuck in a tear-drop of Honey
Perched at your window
Dream Catcher from vacation to Mexico
To City Country of bandits
Of hot sun
of desert skin
of guns ****** **** **** *******
Spanish women playing Spanish guitars
only 3 strings
only 5 fingers
only 1 eye
Gazing at Death
Her Depth of field altered by her one orange eye like lit cigarettes in a jail sell after lights out
quiet quartet
spanish folklore
a eulogy written in Violin strings
a graveyard of deceased mad men
we never fond Mozart's body
vanished in the sky like the pupils of a white crow
Anatomy of a violin:
Casted in glass
Molded by the moss stauteing over the side of your house
Alcohol
Sand and mud
Winter and old leather boots worn by a Vagabond searching the trees for proof
Sorrow Sorrow Sorrow
untouched lips of a woman
A.M.
Wet cigarettes and wine and crooked eyes and a starving belly a Thirsty Mind
A lost canine:سلوقی, Saluki, Persian Greyhound, Royal Dog of Egypt
Sitting in a plastic wool cabin
the Mad artist
drinking molding *****
A lost Breed
The Wise
The Proud drunkards writing hysterically on tenement rooftops of NYC
1950
1920
Rimbaud the Tenth of November 1891
The wonderers with peyote with whiskey with 'Kamel Reds' with Hope and Curiosity
Undress your symbolism
Your Strawberry Eyes that Grow on my walls and feet like Callus'
And like the Charcoal sketches performed By Death
We Age
just as the sky does
just as the Tree you climbed as it rained and you swallowed Lightning and Thunder
Yet the sky was dry of no rain
It is a drought
We pluck the roses eye lashes and
Kiss
We climb into Brick studios and watch the Ballet dancer
as she shapes her bones into Sad New Orleans Trees
The door is locked
Not by bolt but
By the uncut fingernails and hair of wild vines
So we crawl through the side shingles
like
San Antonio lizards

Ballet ashes
dancing to the sigh of Beethoven's last sight
before a wisdom of blindness
swept over his brown eyes
She seems to be painted all black
Like the flight of a Crow
Or the color of Plums
I sing with the owls
I lay with the long road of infinity and its sadness
Out of oil
Out of Gasoline
Out of Food
so we lay around
Carving the paint off walls
like Van Gogh

I am hunched over a grave
The pond is frozen over
'Monumento a la Madre'
Vagabond home
The rain casts a shadow
I cannot see past your face

Someone is listening
I seep into the peripheral of night
Write symphonies on stone
Lay with the weeds
digest the light of the moon

And as I follow the Southern Star home
I am
Stopped by
Painted red ***** houses
24/7 Whiskey Churches
So I Lay down the rifle

Can you hear me out there
come in
come in
over
Radio Silence
I silence my happiness with a smile
don't look at me
when your ice cream falls from the cone
your baby crocodile tears won't work here
and we both know I'm a great terrible liar
are you still out there?
are you still out there circling that same stretch of concrete
with sunglasses a hoodie and a 20 oz black eye
with your heart on her sleeve
arterial spurts of blood painting these white walls
yes my dear I do love you
now come here and help me hide my hunger
We are having trouble making contact
Roger that
at noon he wakes up and croons at the open skirt of Apollo
well hello sir, might a catch a ride to fire on your chariot?
to the place where Kamel Reds are $2.80
and the diner coffee is good and watery
just like the diarrhea which follows
I'm a jack *** joker with a jester hat on each foot so that when you hear church bells it just means I'm outside of your front door
but **** it
you can find me at the park we grew up in
too scared to jump off the swings at the highest point
I read about Icarus and Mamma aint raise no fools
my self esteem ran away that summer I forgot to close the gate behind me
so now me and my ego, Id, and superego
are patrolling your town
armed with fliers and staplers
but hey, it's all good right?
when the nights are longer
the days shorter
and the thoughts darker
I want life to be one trampoline
like the one we held wrestling matches on in Middle school
can I get a double bounce?
I never lost a game of popcorn in my life
It's on my resume
We are experiencing some frequency interference
Is that you?
can you hear us?
I think we lost him
lost him to the radio silence

The Kamel had no skin on his gums,
With outstretched hooves and saline eyes,
A rustic desert bending on the Horizon,
Boundlessly veering off course,
There he'll give eternally in the mirror,
(Trying to reflect)
Right before the show,
And he'd instantly need to know,
What was that?
Had his peak come and gone,
Without vision he'd have no clue,
When he'd know,
Or when they had known,
What had happened?
There he saw footprints in the snow,
Crossing over each other high up,
Beyond the intrusions and dials,
Joyfully drenched in fearful awareness,
Peacefully engaged with time,
Those moments that came to the Kamel's Head,
Where all was lost and fully known.

Blå og gule kameler ryger tjære på mig.
Er immun, selvom røgen brænder i min mund, når du presser den ned med din tunge.

Mærker ikke noget i mave eller lunger, tænker på hænderne og ham der den anden.

Du euforiserer dig selv når du kysser mig, af hash og af kærlighed.
Jeg kan ikke sige nej når dine læber presser på,
men hjertet er et andet sted, hos ham den anden

Kamelerne forfølger mig, store plamager af nikotin på vægge, døre og veje
Og trangen til at gøre det forbi bliver stor.

Men hold kæft hvor jeg elsker
Det kick det giver mig at spille
På flere heste

Jeg er en player, en kamel luder og en euforiseret sucker

There was a long road
from the church to the farm house
and ten acres of land was never enough to disappear
but we tried our very best
the fields spanned out in wooden fence borders
until they met with dirt side roads
sheep, cows, and horses
and mud tracked jeans
we built dens in the woods
out of whatever we could scavenge
with wheat hanging limp from lips
we graduated to the days of the pretender
and started memorizing names like
RJ Reynolds and Phillip Morris
our fingers grew as yellow as our teeth
Tobacco Road Hobos
sticking up a thumb
with a Kamel Red pinched between index and middle
that's the gun metal blue smoke screen
rattling lungs in the morning
scorched throats at night
and a pair of mud tracked jeans
Kings of Tobacco Road

The world had just rolled out of bed
remember the time I woke your mother up
with my sentimental talk and Kamel 100’s?
I do. I remember. Things like love and happiness
passion, *****, ****, and blood
the sounds the walls made against the bustling of life
we were inebriated on the endless possibilities
we didn’t want to see the trap looming above
until it was already upon us
Isn’t it silly to think of that now?
Drunk breakfast at three AM
coffee which kept us up longer than fragile moon beams
rinse and repeat
green paper envelopes
a citation for living without fear
we could’ve made the world stop in its tracks
if only we hadn’t ****** it all up
so badly