Apr 22, 2014

4/22/14


A white tree
An avalanche
Ethereal cauliflower
hung over
noxious orange
drums, trunks
of steel, eyelashes
power lines, life
sustained by
processes ununderstood
but intuited by
blood & lungs,
the gifts of science,
the spoils
of wars
we cannot see

Apr 21, 2014

4/21/14


Storm of silver nitrate
Janus in chrome
Third eye leather
the worthy intuits
the milemarker.  The car
is just a conch of
dials & vinyls, an ashtray
keeps fire
at hand, smoking
in a gale we once did
what we needed to
& left the rest
to glower, mesmerism
of the asp
of the road, tell no tales
behind the wheel
We’re all going somewhere
from the moment
we got in
There is no background, only wind. 
Women caress the car, men do not 
 understand the complexities of our situation. 
We would love to experience this live, 

breathe smog alternates, my venom seems 
 plasmatic, every particle this mass-cross field. 
I cannot see.

Apr 20, 2014

4/20/2014



Turtleneck automata
abstract & obscured
plywood expressionism.
Against the wall, the damoclean
tide of dry rot, a face
-off, face to face to
facility for
small talk & big plans
that amount to the same:
a decaying shack
fish guts
polio
nuclear war
all-new laminate countertop
easy to clean, never cracks
self-cleaning oven
for your head, brand new guns
for the kids, something for
the neighbors, heart,
hinds, debris
stink eye
You & I have questions. You fear 
answers. Kream soda, jelly tarts, 
you have guns under my 
sweater. Open the latch, we 
shall form a clatch.

Apr 19, 2014

4/19/14


Hear air
See dust
Speak of

what lies
in wait in
the recesses

of the raisin of
the brain or
the slimy
meat of
the heart
the shimmering
fluid of
the spine
that underrated
dragon who
remembers
every
touch
With a transcend, who leads bed 
science, a quail at the edge, 
 a moleskin wall. "What am I 
supposed to look at?" Old fogs, 
shirts and linens, molecules, 
materials & labor.

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.
Mutton fat & honey 
In Jordan upon the rhino 
we rode through the wall.

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.