Feb 28, 2007

 
 
      
my uncle gained some small measure of fame
for drawing a haunted house which now hangs
in a movie theatre, which led to prairie grass and barns
                              in the back of the themed mcdonald's
he likes his beer and his symphony music
he drew and he drew and works his factory job and rarely
says a thing

 
 

 


 


    
 


gojira true.
 




doorway grace.
 




americaneon.













 
 
 

magritte's cat in schroedinger's lap
curio kitten of curious map
 
got by surviving ideal mousetrapped






 
 
 
 
  
 
 

Feb 27, 2007

 


portrait.
 




swandivemoon.
 





echo's cunt.





die spiegelmanufaktur.
 

 

 

 

 

Feb 26, 2007

 
 
 
 
blackbirds banter of barley
aloft by whim
of redwing blackbird tum
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 



 



portraiture.
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 
 
 

Feb 24, 2007




self-portraiture.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Feb 23, 2007

 
 

Imitations of Mortality
 

diamond-encrusted q-tip
                                     half-life
dawn in nagasaki
thirteen counts of murder
                                      ten days ago begun
winter-wet interstate
                                rest area
radio free cement whore
alka-seltzer tequila
clavicle syringe

gauge cellar-colored newsprint
seepwind wingspan
                            wing
spider milk
                 mother silk father
rune
 
 





 

Feb 22, 2007


 

forest door.


 

Feb 19, 2007

 



halverlash
 

qwsdcvdfvb dftybnjkoi
 
we layer ourselves upon nothing to feed the darkness
of those who have left the light to turn and find
that space is wide and gravity is thoughtless

                                 crick eeerh et
                                 cardinal nw corner
                                 colde st

the breast the back
the enemy whose death is sour as spring

                          fire
 





 

Feb 18, 2007

 
 
 
 
if the video of the memory of light
doesn't kill these wavery speeds by chance living
shadow entomb musical curious river lights
crossed and lost as clockwork
grime as evening salt
 




 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
cue the theme
dropped in a dream
of sisters
scissored and witched as fire
to a man at sea
 




 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
god's whole
plan from the not-yet
was to escape
 




 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

kokoko
jijiji
plokijuh
lpkojihu
moneymoney
taxtax
aidsinjapan
gojira
at my ankle
here
 




 
 
 
 
 

Feb 17, 2007

 
 
 
 
 

rapture.






horror.





 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Feb 15, 2007

 
 
 
 
the fuck of a cunt
be it swallowtail or swallow
fox or elephant wasp or bumblebee
amaranth or lily spider or mouse
wolf or eagle snake or horse
is a ballot cast in intricate
politics of movement streamlined
factored and from death divined
 
 






 

 
 
 
 
 
I'm going to be with you forever.
What am I?
 
Time.





  







 

Feb 14, 2007

  
 
 
 
night snow--
diamonds pink and green
among ashes
 





  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
to become
a monk
disavow yourself from everything
 
else but that upon which you can barely subsist
hallways of light now isinglass moss
 
now xanadu ditch
 







 

Feb 13, 2007

 
 
 
I am Coke

and cloves and water
and chocolate and ecstasy
and pain and bitter and agony
and sweet and vice and virtue
and sharp and soft and coarse
and smooth and vulgar and fine
and vinegar and shit and sweat
and piss and turf and surf and night
and air and rise and fall and circle
and square and triangle and pair
and diamond and dew and subtle
and stare and silk and fire and rip
and curl and sigh and smoke and grin
and greeds and collar and lock and cunt
and clock and gun and barrel and aimless
and slow and art and war and death and light
and breath and blow and choice and form
and same and same and wake and well
and better and dream and good and day
and pleasant and drift
 









  

Feb 12, 2007

 
 
 
 
peyotex

hello, you fools; hi
to unredoubtable sky
ambience refused
in shades of bamboo
afire

 







  

Feb 11, 2007

 


abble bibble!
clum dewel eiwal!
     flod!
grouden hessed, iffense--
jimmel ketlich
     liftitchery muroc;
nellibigible obun, prau--
quur! refeined strale
     trillomet
upulo, volovulm!
wauldimneral xee! yeen!
     zump.


   





   
                



wet glass
  vultures nigger-
  mind grasses boabab grasses gazelle cut from the ocean swell
                                                                   of nigger suns
                           bald as waterhole mud
                      dry pan
 





                 
 
 
 
 
in all the sandcastles
in my head
not a single grain

speaks
of drinking
acid
as a child

and i am a young man
and there is no castle
and there is no child
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

Feb 10, 2007

 


Rabbit

Out walking along the canal by the natural gas station
and beneath the tracks to stand leaning, or to sit on that carp and cobweb pier
until a train passes overhead, water oscillant, air stenched with tie oil--
summer bore down weight and brought up despair like outfield dandelion

gone to seed. But not at night: at night, it's the gravel hills with the dog
let off its leash after a day on the chain, fairgrounds abandoned
in a sulfur cast (dust of sand and honey against the cement and aluminum
of city government buildings) or distant (out in the open) starbright

shadows in a ground of grass would move about to be wondered at
by Samurai first, sometimes: skull upon the girlfriend's shelf, above the bookmarks
of baby snakes. What is my soul in all this, but the smell of dog

and the skin of snake; the plash of carp bound turn to turn?
It was the mess of the hawk while living with the Woodard's--
the eyes both touched, and not memorized; an idiot by simple fact.
 






Feb 9, 2007

 
 


Last one off the bus,
the driver removes his hat.

Asks the kid unsteadily
smoking if it's goin' good?

The kid's frowning nod
of caramel and apples

says it's okay they've
sold out. And that's

as close as dreams get.
 










 
                



moonspuddle pisssnow notever love
                                               love
how wehate ourchildren tobringthembefore death
selves
selves trivialconscripts conceptlinear
fucking peace




                
 


albatross wheelbarrows derelicts desklamp
hinges
                       ; fire grain owling
 









 

Feb 8, 2007

  
 
The Meaningful World

 
Is a birth in blanket darkness, a discordant
wind furiously mingling warcry, a hovel exposed
to gravel roads that parallel and then break
from highway impertinence, a train at three
and for an hour; is green upon copper, the spar-
king repulse of jumper cables, the refrozen
slate of mid-December, the plus and the equal to,
a perpetual carry-over of symbol, signal and low-
level warning; is the stench and bath of leather,
the rip and bagging of feather, the locked door,
the garlic bulb, a lessening of ash from fire;
is the hunger told by cricket, an incantation
nearly believed, rocksalt, apples, sundry notes
for a latterday dream; is the myth of hospitable
planets, the overflowed coliseum, wood rounded
by a rain of feet, trembling glasses elegant
before struck tines; is a found tooth proffered
as amulet and charm, a white dog, mother's teat,
a missing card, a pointillist jot jolting
awareness, a petri dish ajar; is callow with its
persistent amnesia, an arsonist at heart.

I lift my glass; I cautiously upend my drink.
Likewise, the glass upends me. I lift my glass
and set it down. The tea has cooled conception.
All this space, weighted by constellation;
all this weight, Brownian desiderata, feral
as it is fertile: stem begetting stem begotten
fervent lustration; foundless tepid pyres.

What agony, that does not cease this dream?
What dream, that persists upon waking?
What drunken lucidity; what love better lost
than one undeservedly found. Salmon sky,
starved cicada--.
 










 

Feb 7, 2007

 



Ah, religion; that bowing to death
as death was the first to bow

without discernment; a lake of wax
reflecting a river of fire in an estate

of tar and sand; the tire of the sun;
the ceiling that boxes with a dome

the old moon, sliver new. I'd rather
warm tea, watching another housecat nap.





 
 
 
 

fuck miami we're not cunts
rotting briskly as the dawn
chillinghouses before the grave
t-bones of hamplehay whistlers

lacerate youtube and fuck
speaking free and fuck your god
and fuck your president
and feed the poor

fuck death fuck yes
in miami where we come
haunts of the masterminds
not knowing what to do

ass fucked as you
ass fucked as you
 




 
 
 
 
 
 
trasmiragraphemery seems
 
much like a dropcloth of scenery
 
in a play
 
read by someone else
 


 
 
 
 



                                                 spikker's span


not the sndtrk but the score

                                                                   isometracks

                               of trees eddied

               in a concubine


                                                                   of wind

                                                 stone

               the cellphone does the knives
 





Feb 6, 2007






vessel


 



 

 

Feb 5, 2007

 


Genius doesn't matter, true or not.
Unless it gets you fed, I think.
Idiots make the money that buys the crap.

I refuse to buy crap, or pay for water.
Here I am, a pet with minds of fur
to warm the coldly horrored carousel.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

  





pride




hat piece




popes




frog tale moon














tree 





fish 








 

Feb 4, 2007

 
 
 
 

Anthea

Anthea, Anathea

Theathe, Antheanthe

Athe, Athean

Theana
 










 

Feb 3, 2007

 

 

There exists no excess, nor gross approximation:
Hornblowers blow; clocktowers earl; continents rind of robin
jaggering yawns gearlessly this nostalgic present-day
life not dumb, yet deafening as any empty, mistated case
before juries of jackrabbit hawks; smokestacks; rationales
mixed and poignantly glossed as wind upon a bell, a bell
upon a tendrilled brain swayed by its battery heart, by heart.
Love, what starves today? With science crude, an apple art
an orchard farmed upon a foddering of fires, in accidence--
And thy raucous heart is cobalt, lurid skies of upturned eggs
and angels broken of their desultory wings, ragged and jade
to be believed false, none more true. Thy inelemental
heat is a matte of porridge on cold lime bowls.
Thy hat is an indistinctive rose by thorn engaged.
 





 



 
 
 

 
Aphrodite sits,
watching the titans wolf the fennel grass.
Her eyes are green as gossamer, but her heart--
round and welling.

--such is the extent of my knowledge of butterflies
which, for myself, will serve in lieu of all.
 






 

 

Feb 2, 2007





fool for fire




girl with cat




wall/door/wall