Apr 18, 2014

4/18/14


Spumoni strata
or wall epidermis tear
energy sponge
of wood & frail
metal & glass, a ghost
is a room’s trauma
or its fond recollection,
but which is which?

Vertical line does not
suggest a stable
horizon but an opening
or the aperture
of a tunnel as in the fabled
heavenly point-of-light
death-vision, funny
nobody ever nearly goes to hell—
flames & depravity—even lovers
of flames & depravity.

Apr 17, 2014

4/17/4



Mother tall & grey like a building

            Eats scraps

                        A green coat of fire
                        A green coat of smoke

            Mother splits atoms
                        in her mouth

The grey machines are Mother’s lovers

Mother math
Mother coal
Mother hair
Mother eyes
                        Mother silo

Scraps coal lovers math         eyes
                        Silo smoke
                                    Fire in her mouth

Mother’s robot eyes
                        watch in the dark

                        Mother
                                    Writhe
                        Mother
                                    Fire
In the dark
                        A coat of Mother
                        green smoke
Walk we gravity-walk
 the mudslides roar behind us; 
I've done everything 
to re-adjust, be affluent non. 
The streets & maps,
 are skeletons of nylon, 
I made a mistake.

Apr 16, 2014

4/16/14



Grey apples & flagstones
A mouth of concrete
poetry of the bazar
painted by the hand
of ambivalence;
the bite bruises
the fruit flesh of,  no doubt,
lead. An era steeping
in poison
following the piled
bodies of ideology;
they called themselves modern
we call ourselves contemporary
Next comes what?
A new Renaissance since
by all means we are all fucking 
dead?
The belly of labor, 
mustard sackcloths, 
the old world is a fireman's
 new frontier, the framework 
of eyes & accidents,
 the gears don't rust me, 
I wring silos from this mesh.

Apr 15, 2014

4/15/14

 
The space between atoms
Wallpaper of the universe
The most profound sensory
organ, dendrites stretching
from the eye forever tilting
like a tree; my god is the
god of windows, who brings
strangers close, who collects
rain like jewels, who opens
to the spring & who cements
indelibly the flesh to the
mind, the enigma to the
mouth, the ear to the ground,
the hand to the pane
like a sucker
fish who looks out at the air
that would kill it.
There is a Buddhist idea: to 
move toward painful & fearful situations
 with curiosity. The slopes of wood, 
the tapestry of glass, a wife against 
crocodile fat—cinnamon stallion 
beckons at the door.

Apr 14, 2014

4/14/14

 
Iron & ether
& the salt sea
an ear of dust
the slash of culture
Rank norm ideogram
a theraputic fistula
for forgetting
forever the body
mind over matter
as in what’s the
pitch & yaw
Freight is just ballast
for sale

A safe place is a place
that moves
annihilator Kali storm  
No country on the moving water
No town
All free
under the nothing flag
Steel blight upon it but
Nothing is forever
nothing is real
I love nothing
I feel nothing
The house of pesce, 
fish you say, 
lasts longer
 than the speed of barn wood, 
everyone's bed. 
Mirror feel me, 
eat your telephone please.

Apr 13, 2014

4/13/14

 
Anomie of grids
& bars redacted;
sheetrock records the splatter
of human
as ghosts; industrial
lighting lightning
desiccates thoughts.
In blank rooms’
memories hidden
& suffused with individual
pain.  Colliding speech
atoms & all the another
others, post this
or that, screech or pop
pop of heels,
creakings, shots. A space
created for discrete
persons’ activities discreet
or somnambulistic, nonexistent
irrelevant revenants.
Every secret gagged
by death, an affront to god who is
an affront to man &
woman.
Vexed by the everything, the everything 
of possible everything; 
everything could be 
this way if entrance & love & hinge & hollow. 
We need openings to walk through in this 
life, otherwise, no element of surprise.

Apr 12, 2014

4/12/14


Slag mist
& piped wondering
gods shuddering &
spitting & swallowing
their children whole for
to excrete greasy
simulacra & disintegrating
embellishments for the dead
alive tombs that are
the apogee of this
filthy stupid skiffle.

Pastel cloth lost
in the umber
paramilitary cogwork
& iron anathema
pumping veins ,the shrill
broadcast of expiring
plastic, noxious coughs
of foremen huge
& slippery & stinking
of the last lousy light
of these days.
Ten-fold toxic marsh in heels, 
I have no sludge rights, 
 but I keep moving. I've cried 
smoke & oil, flag diseases; 
it's never still, the absurd fog.

Apr 11, 2014

4/11/14

 
Electric light age;
no keep
nothing for keeps.
Kelp & soy;
marooned when
one stops working.

Call this an ethic.
Tied down,
when so many
cease to be
agents of
a new career path
like a transplanted
heart: bismuth
& polyurethane
like a mace-head
for a master of

ritual naming
never used in public
heimlich
aristocrat
mensch
lagan
pawn
from the skies 
packages & fingers 
the consensus slopes 
& ants in our heads
 he didn't come back after the 
accident 
strike the line of poplar trees 
I wonder how to live like them

Apr 10, 2014

4/10/14

 
The language of rust
is blood; withering
steel is still
the stuff
of life
iron or
shadows, sequence
Liturgy
of a map of
shipwrecks
seen from
space
space
is everywhere
anyway
everyone needs
space
but ghosts
& latent ghosts

To be alone
in darkness
The story of a web
of ropes
& pulleys; what
makes us
what we make
of this:
its & ofs
What might they want, ships,
 boats? 
The spaceship construction, the
 desolate all blown out; you taste like 
petrol, empirical waste, he 
exports 
words, the quail dun of clean 
conscience.

Apr 9, 2014

4/9/14

 
Ascend
the thousand-yard
stairs

What is left

What is right

When

Broken bowl
in an empty shop
Cracked cup
A nothing store

Nothing to sell
nothing to say
nothing to do
just like
all the stars
the Earth the Sun the Moon
Transparent fish, 
sleek kittens & vaz-zes, 
faces vino loves.
 The threads
 of coach, born in Trieste, in 
either place,
 Guiliana is always tired.