Leave the service.
Reverse your words.
Stay home.

Those saying they gave all gave nothing. 

No one knows she's crying for me. 

With trashhbags spilling from their pockets, the children weep as the men enter their silent temple. 

With potatoes in their hands and bricks on their heads, the women wait for the husbands. 

As priests they exit. All normal patterns again. 

I will separate these teeth from your heart as you scan my newest story. 

I've lost your wonder. Why everything is the same as it was remains a mystery. 

Why these eyes, this heart of mine, why not hers?

Hate simmers. Nothing cooks below. 

One more tin of cream. One more song repressed. A wife with her matchbook terrors. Skin pale, coupons clipped to save heart the extraneous cost. 

Out of the door the lesbians begin their drinking games. 

Smile of mine tell me more meets the eye. Look at the hearts and the pressing of its meats. 

Rearrange the peelings. 

Masculinity transmits over the air. I use this time to soften my bellly. 

The noose catches fire. His tears dousing the freedom. 

First date at theater. Curtain call, begin Love's Final Act. 

The death of you in pieces against rocks. 

Reading for signs of traumatized marrow assuming it is not. 

Warnings of obsession and secrecy as I pollute the sabretooth's mouth. 

My vacation shortened. Flying and seeing the dreams of next time whipping past. 

Coarse hair on my tongue. Trails of you when I speak. 

When will you fade? Love is dead. Let it pass. 

The figure and the ridge shake me. Alone counting how the years have not healed this scar. 

A day. And then a night erased from memory. 

While he speaks I'm told to stop sending letters. 

May the lines become thinner. The hush universal. 

A quiet time. Seen in the sun for the first time. 

Continue reading of deeds snared by Karma. 

Restore yourself for my benefit. 



And so this is the poison she poured into my ears:

 whisper whisper kiss. 


Of the poison what is there holding the vials together?

Machine cut squares knowing the curves of her *******. 

Pressed, brushed to perfection. Where is the warmth beyond the warmth?

Not the glow of nocturnal furnaces. The pressing of skin to the belly of coals. 

Only a mask hiding tears from the public eye. 

It is what you seek. 

Ignite me and marvel alone. 

Explain my scars to me in final excitement. 

On one shoulder I collect the rain. My other brings the spillings. The pool at my feet dries, gathers flies. 

My eyes never closed. My muscles began to shiver and this is all that can be said of last year. 


This year will be dosed heavy with dreams. 


The telephones will soon empty thief wife's of our conversations. 

New dust and **** will cover the bricks our hands feathered over. 

Plates we consumed our dreams on will break, become clean and discarded with the closing of cafe doors. 

You dying and older. Increasing desire. Your basket full of fruit. Your soil toiled in the night. Roots taken, their precious hollows filled. 

Damaged Boardwalk. Mussels cracked, pearl less by design or circumstance. 

Fake both hope and love. Slip away in the pilings of some Ferrari. 

The ash of your candle. Where is it now?

So close to the sea. Yet these stains remain. 

Burn or transgress. Your stones sink in my heart. 

An open letter since birth. 

The barge floats. The operators celebrate the river's damming. 


May you hear my tears in your happy silence.


Just a leaf in the sidewalk. Talks of saplings vanished in the processing. 

Here together in the colder air. 

Forgetful muse, run. Steal their wrestling's warmth. 

The swell beckons. We've yet to share this drink. 

Taste yourself on this raw plate. Fight and move away mediocrity. 


Few lover's sons left. 


Pick your battles from the bag with your boots and that picture of the lion escaping its cage whilst I fell into yours. 

Is there anything else or is this less than what you wanted?

Rude for noting your thinning soles and the leather's scars.

Hard to consider compensation for this blood you've been given. Diseased congealing life force. 

Awake and celebrating with me the people you've left. On this shore, this glimpse of Hell. 

Tossing and turning farther away from refuge. 

Mildewing pamphlets of my red and white memories. All the paintings we're without. 

Hack off my feet and keep me close. I float. Your hauntings with delusions of bliss. 

This is foolish, my pride in the envelope and later the shells. 

Every beacon a reminder to swim farther. Sirens witness my solace.  

Choking back wallows and whispers.

May Neptune weep as I fail in his righteousness. 


Into God's own heart I nestle. Finding rest eternally. 


Young Dracula, stop circling and take me.

Misplacing all of the failed products. Longevity concerned, I care only for you. 

The oak's mortar cages new flowers. The cabin's perimeter gives death to fallen seeds. 

My eyes do not see. 

Before I speak, our campfire will host a bear's curiosity. 

With haste, flesh and bone become not. The smoke will linger. 

I press my ear to each pipe and listen to dreams of fortune and misfortune unabsolved. 

Pause. Witness the birth of my first love. 

My eyes peer too deep. The line frays. Precious ink is spilled in effort to scribe this Fate once again. 

The young doctor, eager to please, pulls my love too soon. My stillborn future. The ache grows strong. 

Torture is to be with one. Tasting my every conquest as needles, replaced with each new draught. 

Lost is the tunnel producing such ash. May its methods be forgotten. 

Your cage soothes my body. Temporal souvenir to our nights shared in sweat. 

Tell me you have a chance unspent. Love is never easy. Spending it in the backseats or in the inn, just tell me. 

It takes a captain to steer this ship. 

Avert your gaze to the husk of the Kodiak. Memory sparks conversation 'twixt us. 

Past deeds taint her innocence. But the blackness never darkens when devouring light. 

Enlightenment is nothing to speak of. Today is a peace. Close to battle my margin's leavings. 

My breakings of the law. A wizard's construct. 

My posture will retrieve your witness. Farewell my only sculpture. Veins misplaced. 

Our poles are pure. Adversity in his age. 

Separate from your image, fickle love. 

All of these words to confess the revation of my sight restored. I always hope you've stayed true. 

Perfect dream. Thieving silo. Joyous halo, how much stronger your ore will become. 

Challenges in the hammering. Perceive the bitings of the fingernails. A day left alone. 

Where am I these days? In a place far from worry. 

In the wilderness. Or the sequestered stables of the city. 

I may not speak again. 

With this closer feeling I stray towards a life of acquisition. 

Lead me my true love. 

Grant me decay and mercifully first, your poison.

Two souls, the footprints of space time. 
Another conversation. 

Behold! 
The bucket's bottom. There are lines. 
Above but still below zero, are your promises. 

My greatest achievement is securing your only ******. 
The mess and the tendrils of confusion, the beacon for infidelity may remain his. 

Deity. ******* symbol of immense warmth and firmness. 
I turn you away. 
Grant me witness. 
And strength. 
And restless nights. 

A blood disorder. Yet mine fight all natural bodies. 
A stuttering problem. 
I've just the time to find my place. 

From a fiery prison. 
Peace and love with one cost. 

Your firstborn tainted. The king's seed on innocent's belly. 
What is your answer? 
Parenthetical or textual?

Frustrate the ***** of his people. All around decisions leave in rings unmade. 
The *** boils over and the mystery vanishes. 

I am finished. I am to weep tonight. 
My sobs and shudders move my shoulders and break my lease. 
From the front door, down the copper staircase and further down into the well of opportunities. 
I crawl and move my trail of tears underground. 

From the fire to the furnace I rise with skin as bronze.

The door is open. 
Leave it open. 
This door is shut. Do not open it. Leave it shut. 

Not this one, but the next one. The next right turn. 
Make the next right turn. 

Instructions not packaged. How to care for this new incomplete stranger. 

Monarch butterfly. Teardrop firefly. Three tin passerbys. 

The center for new age trauma victims. 

Lifting skirts. 

No I used to lift skirts. 

Bring me down. 

Triumph. 

The softness of her antlers leaves me confused and shaking. 

Bone and then praise. 

Supper and ritualized masculinity. 

A spot on the wall, no more spit on my face. 

Soon my blood vessels will burst and my jowls will sag. 

The paragraph starting here. But I am here. And back again. 

To say whoever finds him here. 
Anything medical related. 
And it is so sad. 

Am I dodging the blows?
Or moving swiftly between?

She gives praise to the glasses. And the rash grows, drugging with nothing sacred. 

All of this son could have been avoided. 

Oh, a horn in the distance. It is too late. 

Come now ye polished hoods of chrome. Parade along the city's skirt. 

Erosion, under humanity's weight stands strong. 

A breakbeat. Appearance of stereo but we are just in mono.

The farmer and the poet walk side by side. 
The wind is blowing and with every grain of sand approaching their skin, the kettle moves closer to boiling. 
The farmer with his miniature mule in his palm sweeps in motion with his other hand, the one with golden rings and chewed nails. 
He shows the poet that the land must be toiled. 
And sweat must mix with blood to form meaning to one's life. 

The farmer combusts into ashes over the poet and the untouched bloodless ground. 

There is no anxiety. 

The poet and the glassblower walk hand in hand, shoulders pressed closer, finding rhythm in each other's differences. 
Warmth and love shine from their portrait. 

And the poet thinks as he walks. 
The thoughts collapse and the glass blower breaks into sheets. 

Furthermore into jagged shards and then, into pieces too small for a human eye to see. 

With each step the poet contains his winces and his groans. 
Walking his every step, a moment closer to suicide. 

I'm aware this is temporary. 
The solution is permanent. 
Stay as permanence, pouring as warm oil from the eternal lion's mouth. 

I grow uncomfortable. 
Distance yourself and twist language. 
Pull yourself together.

Never have I seen so many pentagrams. 
Hung silver, some in coarse thread. 
Thread still thin but not thinning. 

The wind blows. 
The pentagrams stay steady. 
Never wavering or moving as an ocean. 
Seductive stillness yet to be determined if satisfying. 

The cross above the suburbs is tangible. Yet the willows fold, bend and move in unholy patterns and manners. 

My eyes close. 
A moment ago they were open and burning, forgotten realms. 
A love affair with fantasy. 

From the prairie's apathy, the infirm stand strong on the jagged mountain. 
Sagging skin ***** over the husks. 
Weather the gusts. 
And the time it takes to say for certain. 
Their numbers fall with every grumble from the wet and shiny harbor.  


Miles above, the delta beckons. 


Farther below the road is beginning. 
With its paralyses. 
And it's warnings of approaching excellence. 

A pile of soil collected daily. 
The farmers rub their square white teeth in confusion. 

The universe with nothing beyond. 

When she thinks of death, she is sad. 
There is pride knowing there is no ever after, there is nothing after. 
I am sad. 

During the panel, words of observable importance betray her and flee.  
Betrayal found with the black mask, the semiautomatic fire and the only man who could make her ***. 
The singularity is denser now. 
Collapsing as memories of the father spark the misplaced tinder. 

They echo along her ******* and fall as the residue pools in her *******. 

Finding helixes without the tools to measure them. 

Speaking little of anything.