a kinetic mimetic the city
in synthesis a thought
spore and asphalt moonlight

pitch as wood without moon--
nothing winds of nothing sound
as romance and murder move



 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

trees shudder against the laptop screen saver off
finger smears upon a pool of plastic blue aloft

the halved and the halve-nots stagger munificence
the wind a toy


 

 


 

 


 

 

 

 

what does it do
whatever does not disagree

and it wor--
for free

genius
no sir--

that's unsettled


 

 


 

 


 

 

 

 

your eyes are like skyscrapers
each rod

a well
Babylon miraged

and distilled
in the modicum

of light night upon night
all the heavens

a hole
above the earth


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

to eat your own tongue
is tasteless

what is there not to understand?
 


 


 


 

 

 

 

god shall cum
to you

and death
a little

pain so
focus upon

until loss
bliss

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

if andy wharhol had an iq of 86

i'm almost ok

with an iq of 68

almost ok

but if that genius

was a genius

then i'll forget

in this production

of oblivion

without a set

hummingbirds

at the end


infinity
exactly
parallel


or what's

names
hummingbirds


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

clear-white color
cleaning

char

black as the mote
of wisdom

in the cold
of your blue-white

dwarf
bled upon foolishness

at its heart:

we wake to go to sleep again
we wake to sleep

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

all this birth, after birth--
all this death, prior death--
as loves become loves, mind--
so sense mirages gravid ache.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

beauty is a body--

we are libraries
we return to
having consumed too much hurt

looking for volumes
of health and safety--
'eat food'

and whatever that constitutes--
there are so few better books--
think it impersonal?

unimpersonationable--
quick--
describe to me how that looks--

it's neat to find
a mind i like like my mind is
some of the time--

what is allowed is the nature of a book--
what other good if not thou--
look

an unopened book
so you might learn how to better look
than a book

left open--
a pain a page--
water and blood unbound as one--

'there is no cure'
sure; why not?
sometimes i think i understand myself

which would be funny were it not true
and funny were it true--
i try to--

this is where you surprise me, too