pulling you through the needle eye of time

over my shoulder the dawn,
and the city’s scrapers sky glass have turned pastel

the sun has had a great time
being an agitated red eye
infected and watering, pooling and flooding and
drowning

blinding
indifferent
life-giving
same-time

the people asleep and the memories stain
with spells
promises and prayers

all infinite, and finite
wary of sentient
and one

drowsy hive mind
reoccurring dreams- a drive thru memory
passing through with
intermittent lucidity

there was a mirror
that reflects every happy day of my childhood
when the golden way
lays its head to sleep on our backs
made silhouette
does nothing for the air
clean
cotton
we were happy black things
cut up
under the skeleton tree line
pine away
cold danger
rank mouth

wasn’t it better then?
did then even happen?

with thinner versions of
white ribs
black knots of hair
that summer hold
stick to seats to convince
with song
I thought that I didn’t want to
forget these lines
but to hold on
is slavery
and the loss will return me to fluid
to movement
it’s all the same
holding tea cups like lanterns
a tiny furnace
with tiny forsaking
a tiny freedom
I let it go

and we drove while the clouds rested

on the river’s back

a gray void

a rained out road

washed out

a choke, affront

a station between waves of static

mystery reception

I’m trying to tune it

pulling the hair from my face

driving too fast

buckles and disappears

a wall of rain

the river a grave

it rests

and we travel through

its stomach

veins of river

veins of clouds

gray indiscernible

empty piers

a fall out

just like a drive by myself

until next time

when the sky bleeds true

a tired nod of earth to drive

to blindly rocket

through

**** stained and captive
Welcomed the breath
Of black wire and curled mane
Sharp since of loss
It’s my mouth!
It’s too late

But the roaring sea
Is finally aware and has the time
I’ve been there-
Vivid,  
an animal maw
Waves and rocks splitting
mouth and jagged teeth
Dreamt of the masturbator
on some Spanish sea
hungry guest
with a Ouija use of amber to discover
Black curling tides, hidden meaning
Of headline trash and our tangled hair
My head bobbing in the waves
Orpheus’ protégé
With nightingales guarding my grave

I saw his profile
and with it I turned
like a fish in a stream
he breathes down a beaten down
path
these paths are
quiet wise secrets
and his face is among
children's paintings, a smear

like I said, I hid
I hid my face
I hid my legs
like the bloodied soiled evidence
buried in underwear drawers

sometimes I go in over my
head
I trust your tides
I can swim fluently
my land
my county
my language
I am a master

Stupidly believing
that death is such a
far off debt to pay
when I see
your head in dawn's herald
skin a ghoulish blue
face an impish youth

how we must hurt
to grow
how we must be gettin old
and early
drink more and talk less
urges to mutilate
urges to disintegrate
the body that's
on loan from the parents

wanted to follow but
the rain wouldn't let me
the wake
the commune
and finally-
the rest
an abbreviated death
as cold as I can make it
so I can walk like Lazarus
in a gray shadow of dawn

so I can surprise you as
easily as I did myself
so I could bring tea
to your daylight
window

the first verses I penned
were of the dying plants of summer
naked lady stalks
seen standing vigil
in a neighborhood salute
they are late
and they melt
good to wither
along with the dying song
of the cicada
humming to a halt
waiting for hot morning walks
upon monarchs' backs
crumble like burnt newspapers
incinerated old story
under my heels
my summer waning