calling all nyc empaths,

whose mindspace's

grating like a subway overpass.

the noisome level of this ghostabout,

whose reminiscence slithers against the

doors of Passover.

booming rushes with no hour,

a freak composer sounding

down poised instruments.

with invisible motions.

the acoustics of darkened stages steadily

stirred by an incredible silence.

of a growing audience meditating

without distraction.

...With much ancestral barking, and
loaded quieting, the ghosts sat down
to paint.
Color renounced the spectrum...
blanching their translucent shrouds
as the firmament flailed maniacally,
bludgeoning the telltale signs of lives
painted by number.
A fractal engorged upon itself...the
ghosts foisted their vision.
As refracted tunnel lights upon the
cyclopic eye of a subway train...from
front to rear.
Went through both ends of The Tunnel,
broad daylight...broadening, and
broadening--till the ghosts sat down to
paint...tethered color snapped loose.

Botero's ballooning

figurations parade

into Giacometti's studio.

greeted by emaciations

that seem cast in disheveled

breadlines.

a giant Paleolithic dog's

fossils lie hidden on a plane

of existence.

his massive tongue remains

pristine, slunk and slobbering

down at the jaw.

still dying to retrieve the hunt,

Stone the Age--his dispassionate

master.

god of thy god, a pet project, a

reverse text.

Your gilded paces
in darkness, wore
like diamond necklaces
heaped round a dead
queen.

Summon-mad incense goes out searching

for a transcendent nervous system,

taking on different qualities.

A serpent lies coiled under a Golden

Helmet, that's made of depthless return.

Sleep is different, it is no longer where

waking comes from.

Waking is different, it is no longer where

sleep comes from.

Light lays down rising.

Sometimes eyes open up there, & a

depthless return shows one the figure

of its speech.

It is not the body.

clay boutonniere

in a kiln.

plague doctors in

beaked masks--

retrieving the semblage

of a carnation.

with golden sporks

the size of spatulas.

split three & a half ways.

prattling beaks.

Sometimes before
putting out the
light for bed, I
ask myself: where
have you been
all day... how did
you get here?
With a matter of
factness that could
chill a ghost.

a google earth stalker hovered &
zoomed in on localities that predicted
his frequency like an equated John.
fanatically checking for refreshed images--
that he may feature as an action shot of
undiscovered talent.
the quirky habituation of her long distance
fix, a savant's out-of-body experience.
a rendezvous' autopilot, more accurate than a
dreamt address--a gooey **** driving fingernails
into tight fists.
despoiling the lifelines of palms, eyelids cracked
open like blinds voyeuring on the closed door
policy of the indecent.
now she jams her zipper, while hopping in &
out of bed with self-mythology.
alone with her body, or alone with another body.
she's back on google earth again, fastidiously
searching for an appropriate potter's field.

Ganders...gargantua--ensconced in far-fetched space...
(attrition)...LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...
ROUND THE CORNERS OF PERPETUITY...predilections.
A soul's inalienable fracas...on bend and knee...hop...and
whoop...miasmic gargoyles poppy-wreathed...
for all-too-lucid dreaming...chanting etceteras of bare riff raffs.
Golden breastplates...weeping willow wings...empurpled--
fending fang trumping lines of: yuck, cluck, claw and kook.
...Listless eyes...alphabetize...think a blind oracle's informed
absentia...holy and bovine.
Redolent airs...perspiration of spume's most distancing shore--
eyepieces for the specks and logs in the oculos of brothers
and sisters.
As dust to dust doth not settle...heart's yonder score...nay cease
of interstice...off-world amorousness.
Gather ye yarrow sticks...hurl them at days...roofless arcady...
live into the spectra of their worlds, come friend or foe...Fate's foundling.
Lines strung as prayer beads...curs-ed beads...forget-me-nots
enclosed in letters baiting Long Farewells, in the great literary
correspondence of authored and Author.
...Ye gorgeous gargoyles come perch and push.
Persona non grata...the wide world...unisex prodigal...All--returneth.
LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...(attrition)...ROUND THE
CORNERS OF PERPETUITY.
NEBULAEIC FANFARE...come perch to push...lo...ANGELS!

gothic appraisals of vanquished love--

an auditorium at maximum capacity.

a vampire standing ***** before every

wooden seat.

in the dead of, in the dead of, in the dead

of night--breaking the neck of what turns

back, in pindrop hollows.

all hissing simultaneously, at the girth of

loss, trembling with elation.

as dandelion spores are

hysterically grafting finales

in over-bright air....

a snowflake falls at the

center of the galaxy.

that will never melt.

a snow globe

in every cube

of graft paper.

bulbous tethers

of blanch

pandemonium.

a man stands stern as 86,400 condolences
in front of a Grandfather Clock.
he resembles Lloyd the Barber from:
"The Shining"--except for mustachio &
monocle, a leather whip in his right hand.
dressed up to the nines for his
sadomasochistic relationship with Kairos.
the pent-up tension of its purposeful
waste, excited him to no end with its
insightful extravagances.
the heightened state of foregoing all
possibility, rides the penultimate crack of
a whip.
oceanically wrought drops of milk &
honey--pelvic ache in-between no two
points.
the adrenaline dump of worlding an
infinitely broken silence--over & over &
over.
surviving deferments of dust in an edenic matchbox, quavering to hear--holy make the round of holies.
until sweat shines his shoes & the whip's
floored by undulance.
as his fire belly newt: Gozer, singles out from a camouflaged environ to be fed.

foisting abandonment issues--

coring out all that hurt to gain

another's trust as you'd want

to be loved.

all the gravely wounded animal's

learnt about love's security ripped

away.

all that  you were denied, so

you deny another that love to gain

some measure of power.

going through those helpless motions

with the fiendish wish to leave

another helpless.

wearing the ill-fitting look of cruelty

amid the privatest of quarters.

though in the end-- such an act is

suicidal.

what is it to watch

a single green leaf

become a Geisha...

reflecting the sunlit

transparency of another

leaf?

as if it were her own

silhouette.

a green study lamp--

the size of a defunct,

underground playhouse.

pulls its chain--

(scintillates of dimes

ferried upward).

opens the

coloriage of curtains with

bags under their eyes.

A Forest relieves the backdrop

of a forest...as leathery tree stumps

twist.

I saw: evening/blue/sky trisect an

angle--as for their own.

I & the cold let them ahead,

distinguishably alone.

Then came a sussing hiss from above.

A plastic bag caught about thirty feet

high on a Pin Oak Tree.

Both at their emptiest, the wind

almost apologetic.

As they visibly grew out of distinction.

hypnagogic rope,

serpentine

alpha wave.

guardian of

visual metaphors.

sibylline interstices

of grey apples.

handheld as if infirm...

& helped away--

the period of an endstory

keeps dotting itself.

whilst grinning profusely.