it’s a tepid nectar
that now drips from these leather-winged amphora jars :

they circle, like harpies
down to us upon tumble-hot currents spinning off the face of the
earth




but there are subterranean cisterns
of something else

out there :


cool water
against us.


and my syrup-stuck lips are
dry
for
it.

i could out you.
      in an instant
but.

do the jack-pines
know that they are going to die
when   the golf-course gets redone in the
spring?

do the amber utility lights know
the
fossil-records they foretell?


do the puddles count  the diamonds of glass
shimmer-trapped
in the
asphalt   there?

do the coyotes  call
eachother
by
name ?

emissary
     solutions
dissolve like tea
into too much
      water .
tastes        folded down
    into the back
corners of your tongue ,
scraping
molars   in mild annoyance

;magazine page torn out
and stuffed into
your shirt

for warmth
at the end of the world//

you flash a  smile_ or
is it a threat ?
and reach your hands
    down into
           your
          pants

the undertow takes time to notice
as each washing pulse
whisks away
more [glamorous, radiating shoreline]



. h/e.


if we
shall remember
what has been robbed,
it may yet be        
     reclaimed

like.a call from inside the house
their          prickling
    sediment
  deposit
upon
              her.chordate lineage.its
                  taxonomy.it’s
                    telling time. an
   

e x h u m a t i o n     of
    pores:
       pathways


                     she,      the
=part.hungry
    receptacle

         as
.they rake all delicacies
                            // pressed        
        backwards \

as willing substrate

in howls
in smoke signals           and
in trembling lungs.

a shower, like a casting away of minuscule multitudes
singing along and misremembering the words
a dredge into origin
a deluge of removable things

a distorted reflection in the soap-****-nickel-alloy-plated places

a chance

Belly-walker’s daughter

Blessed alter to dna.
Origin.   worship.

Beaded rosary ******* kiss the lips of
Holy men.   and their
Descendents
.
Hell is inside you (only)

The real thing
is       outside

On the cusp of infinite knowledge
The human race
Shadow dances at the cleft
Face
Of the mountain

Daring the pits below
To invite it into belonging
There

Yet still reaching outwards
Embracing me one last time before
Flying.


Inviting me to hope and love
Again
After such fimbulwintr years as it has
Been

Now comes the third spring
And the dawn of
Soft eyes fluttering
Open


We shall
See.

Or

We shall see…

i saw the bronze-age breathe
if,but for a moment-
as you

clove the earth
in search of

truth .


i saw the wet-winged
fall,
as the sun
dared us
down from
it
now .

we are collecting
preventative measures
             like assembling
       an
anthology
of misplaced
               tiles
in mosaic
memorandum.

if           we have a year
left,
if we
continue to postpone
              the
destruction,


art may
yet
retain its
artists

as artifice transcends
artifice




.

i'm listening to the crickets outside the window tonightfor the first t ime in a long time

what are you about that I'm that I'm that the only jacket at the way you are continuing. want me to advocate in the bathroom window while I'm about to for a for a I'm not sure not sure going to be able.  

buy.
  have not talked values and the typos became more than my blastoise

Inverted hermit

Hole in time, like a well
Clay
Bricks swollen with memory
Diving deep into long churning oceans of night ink

And speak your peace
By standing softly
And letting time swill together in collected tidal pools - in the recessing draw of the ever-black


Bourne a-mast to the windly observance there

all heads throb
as
         a
papered-up-shop-window moon
decomposes without much commentary

the stars are out :
sight-hounding for mortals
to dine
upon

and i sit,
belly-full, and heart-hungry :
hoping to
*****

Coyote associations
Rib-caged home
Of
Animation

it’s nestled in deep :
that thing that was
planted
then

Faster than  the  speed of bad decision
The light bounces   off the hand and into eye s
When, the
Hand moves / it
Shutters all around
And encroaches.       Into

Billowing stacks of molecules , roaring up
With a  purposeless ,and burning
Desire.


Feed, heart. feed

pay me only in these small, barricaded places_

as we glint like
discarded
             bottle-corpses
along the woody
edge.

pad-traps
      for
perimeter-pointing
   hounds ,
  let loose
  under the

dark-foot gauze of the
     equinox night.


vessel-hearted :
     known to have contained

beloved ghost of
       a land
       before
       fence-land .


yet solid as
              the
          moon .

pewter
clouds roll like the dark boiling
milk of
dead goddess *******//:
shimmering like
minnows.
like    Minoa .

across  the simmer-*** sky
tipping its lid
    to the
celestial
kitchen ;
stove-top, no longer watched.


as
the pulsing ergot castle looms
atop
its cliff face perch [it slumbers]

.to the captive dreamers
within its own
rotting
gate,

it
  stands
guard

against the blackened sea

     b e l o w .


AndSo

the salt_white sun.like a flawed promise amidst the chalk.swath of a sky ,the dry cupric oxide around the circles of
city
eyes

a broken baby carriage under the train platform :
a husked substrate for the gathering
ice .

Indigo earth
Breaking tiles in the ruined home of
The
Ancient people
Stone moments like
A
Wild
Dream-fox running in swirling shivers through the inky clouds of
Dispersion /
So little love left over
After
The rains
Are
Pushed out
By the
Distended belly of the moon

The white fur stands on edge. tufted with peanut butter
And caught round the ring .

Creaking  like shifting weight over linoleum feet.
Back and forth like hips ,
Indecisive
In their balance.


Matted into layers like stones and soil
being excavated to find
fossil evidence  of lives lost
To
Changes

Keys in the loops
Pushed down into glass jars
Amidst pennies and ash
Chair legs creak and crack over breakfast
And
Conversations of
Time


Jacket on the hook ,
Pockets turned out in careless artform .
proof of
Man’s final triumph over
god
And the lasting power of
Mistakes
It’s a shame you don’t see the legs still kicking in place
Treading water
Trendy in the fake struggles
Getting claws caught in sweater sleeves and
Untwisting each yarn

Like poisoning the minutes against each other.
Like posing in a photograph we won’t share.
Like sharing blood.

Charging wires tremble in icy dry venue
As
The windows fog over like cooking in the kitchen in January.
It is enough to remember harder.
Or want to

Its enough to sell sell sell
I break promises over
Breakfast.
I
Th
I
Nk
I am happier
than
Many other m n
I think I waas
Better off than .that

I woke up to the radio on but nothing playing
I ,
Man’s final artform
I













Or the

You

frominside
  the heaving molecules
gargles,a new lament

for courage, they cry out
as electrons are forcibly
stripped_

leaving art-****
nuclei
in voyeuristic
[ display]
for hungry
magnetic mouths   to
                   s p li t

i love you
egregiously.

eating over the chipped plates reserved for
only /truly// honored guests
we don’t care what we think about eachother
because it’s
             like
f e a s t i n g.

Winter is a string
Plucked and vibrating sharply against the skin pan
Of my head
Like branches I bend,
Young enough still.  to yield pliably
Under the burden
Of snow.
The ashen sun   rises like dust .   about the windowsill
We trace the paths they draw    in particles and movement,

My face tightens around my bones
Drinking collagen  from the exposure
And learning

Cozy between layers
In the history of the world

Steaming as breath around the mouths  of
Rivers,
Not yet sleeping
Not yet filling the spaces with
Me

keep pushing on ropes .   instead of untying our tongues
keep touching .   our sleeves to the table
like accidents in waiting
like breath on a bad neck  .i fight to remember     the touch of grass
i keep down
it's dust. it's talking behind the school yard
it is.
sunn beating down

.wet as

long-sound
footsteps on the scuff of downturned sidewalks

estranging.
distance
.from us

as wrought iron bridges
meeken,

aching.
like a saxophone

.the
pin-patter

success
is a measure
of pleasures

abraham ****** his daughter
and everybody liked it
i must admit
                                          it was kind of okay.
they bashed in her teeth
all because she liked it
it looked like fun
i wish i was one.             of them


god gave us the earth
           and it was okay

morning breaks like kissing god with tongue her hairless legs are squirming under the earth the long wait is over our privilege is returned to us we pass it along like virulent youtube
comments

pulling hair out of parted lips like charming serpents from
        wet reeds
  open. <laying>
hernecktwistsdown

and stains me       
         .
our hands
are

dropped bread_dog-natured
and slow.breath
i am dull hammerhead  to your
nail-edge.
i am smoothed out by time and
b l o w s.
the sea knows my
stone(s).like i know your wrist
though i fray at the end of
your
twine-lined teeth:

oh
sebum heart
you are more than the cells rotting in your
body
.than the hive mind of bacteria in your gut telling you to rip the
place to shreads


my love traces over
you
in shoals of sticky wet erasure

my mind is an  a c c i d e n t

dna is disgusting.
my tasks are the  hand-me-downs of killers
the living are bandits for the lives of others_
i antiquate myself, stepping out into the dying light of moral argument.
we obsolesce against the lampshade of its horizon
nature is meant to be broken
and we are the breakers [as usual].


i am i
and you are youless.
springtime is stepping down

oh ryoko,
where did you go

novelty is a messy buisness

i am underwhelmed by the way you seek finality.
it really is an adolescent impulse.
and so is neither good nor bad
as some would have you believe.
but don't hold it up so ******* high

and when the silence is broken by your ugly smile

i am spilling out into
mouthy gauze-
a dawnless gurgling-
  and
a minnow's fate.

when i stepped on a dead mouse- or a crushed leaf- or something
and the milkweed was long gone
and my hands were wet. and fingers cold.
i stammered onto the edge of the opposite curb.

we all have a box of cigarettes stashed away somewhere
whether that's a metaphor or not.

but i was walking to the reservoir on another one of my nocturnal visits.
and i wish i could remember all the things that i've learned about the night sky
or at least see it better by the spotlights on the side of the d.p.w. building.  

and i forgive you like i forgive the mothers washing the last of the dishes in their kitchen windows
and i forgive the low, traffic-lit branches on the way back that cause me to crouch to the side
for fathers must scold their children.

and in 1955 there were black and white movies about madness and ******,
a man who comes back to find his father dead.
and at the end he discovers that he himself, had killed him.
four years ago.
forgot it all- fell to pieces

odds are you getting these images they out so out so ready for bedbug burning scrubby shyness scruff of the same afterwardly word.  dismissingderby. they've regressed into serpentine shying. away . thumb shock.  don't shut up.  don't think.  don't front this.
I'm just now leaving the nursing home soon.

you scare me
in ways that
deserve our
wet fingers
finding each-
other in this

m u t u a l .
o b s e ssion

let them not
find ways to
fail  to  find
each - other
in the dark_













.

etherium
elysium
etc.

cyber-book-burning on both sides.
when did erasure start passing as
love

Belly hairs
Stiffened outwards

Inside the deep wash of dry baseboard-heatered air


It’s good.
To think back sometimes


With waxy cuticles     against the chapped    
    lip’s
open
    curl

Honest animal
Lying man.

the only sentiments
worth
s
e
n
t
i
m
e
n
t
i
n
g
are the  
         ones
pre-agreed-to
inside the

[cyber - cathedral ]

fairies ****,
-you said, pulling off their wings
and *



dripping in self-amethyst
you laid out your plans for armistice.lapping up the pools of it that had collected on the floor
it was splendid.

they are folded up like my gut,
the papers on the shelf
he reaches to pull them down, and i can feel them fluttering.

[my legs are together]
[my head is soft]
[i am a stain on the chair]

i have your
twin wrists
to graze upon.   like the thin blonde hairs teasing the air- waiting to be
burnt up
in
the
over-strong sun. i'd like to polish you off, the way the splinters on the
porch
find my heels.

i'd like to get some feedback
here.

you know i can't ride a bike.

you bleed on the sidewalks for me.

my hand rests on the place where your sock had rollen down to slack around the ankle.
i'll find out real quick, where the story ends.
you've got
mr. lonesome. and the resin that oxidizes into
glue
that yellows in the UV damage
of each freckle
that might have
been.
ya?
ya.

Kindness
Tolerates pain

we are that longrunning society of graverobbers
and with every stitch,we all amalgamate true horrors out of eachother .emboldening the regurgitated fears of the dead and thedying.the salted roads,crisp up the cold and crystalline paths forward .beside your dehydrated, astronaut-food smile_and (never)dog-mother eyes
.i am the patina over all creased things
.i am the creases

The stairs still splinter out dry laughter, muffled in the gloaming plaster
Hall -
Spackle-rough to the cracked fingers running along those century old idiosyncrasies
I, belly-hurt to the passage and the passing of it
All.
I return there from excessively average physical distance _yet from many dynastic   Wheelings of
Contemplative
Removal.

A broken thing
And
I, the faithless
Steward -
Throneless
Amidst haunted
Kingdoms of a dismembered corpse-god
And other short
Stories


With threadbare
Memory of
Patterned bedsheets crumpled in perfect modelposed gesture of blissful entropy, the
Nearby school stadium spotlights still send tower beacons into the mist of the night
The cars still slur by in the wet black
Crackle and
Hiss
Destroying the fidelity of other songs in
Perfect, humming

Obfuscation .




Void-fellow, home
.

you find things
that are worth finding .