busy verbalizing my merchandise                                                      ­        
a display of teeth reefed behind my smile
                                                      becau­se merchandise is what i am after
                          and The Revels watch over me
                                and laughter drains down through sewer grates
i am watched over                                                             ­                             
my potential client walks away                                                                 
    but returns again with queries                                                          ­             
on this hot day                                                              ­                                   
a smell like burnt hair raises from the gutters                                            
and these are the streets that radiate                                                          ­  
on this hot day                    

an honest clash and not some some touchy bout
and here we are                                                              ­
the costly coil of pushing business together ;           
                                   a lively thrive
thrifty "*******"s and a dressing down       
circling the other and striking their buttons   
  
                   interlaced within is a genuine pressing
               toward each other goals  
this partnership                                                      ­                    
swiftly made                    
                                          has an extreme edge and chaotic balance          
the both of us must master or abandon our productivity             
shall we be served by this union
                                     or sever fighting ?

unfit                                                         ­            
  it swerves and suffers a pity                  
let's keep this one brief                                                     
we manage business
handshakes
and scowl away with our wares
each of us feeling equally scammed
(we've made useful enemies at best)

i break out laughing all the same-how
and howl because i feel
that feeling that this could go on forever
and business has roots in all my moods

i crouch at the curb       
the curb is abrasive               
              i sit
i look at the dry heat radiating off the tarmac
the slight greasy lime taste of the air passing
the roof of my mouth
the electric wires running hum into the buildings
the storm drains at the edges of the roads
where laughter siphons down to the magma of Hades

it is waning off now                         
and i feel vague
i stand and i scan for more players
i spot a vivid orange one
one that i may barter their aura of vigour
traded for my sketchy wares

forfeit life wholly

decriminalization

start and tend again

My hard earned soul
Has been unsigned of its fibrous callouses
Results of a de-stubborning
Racked over a long and testing period of time
Smaller for it
And freer
Welling and interactive
Curious and reading stinging songs
A child of maintanence
Much work
Good and computable

now ;                                                                                         
­                                   til the begging of our next death
bragging of our savage past chiming ovations
occupying the company of our hostages
when scavenge is all there truely is
'dealt with' seems a felony
shriney irredeemable
incendiary
trinkets
seeds
to some
quite fertile
and a breeding pulse
taking out our bludgeoning
womb of demoting anger and the elements
and blaze out your heart-pace                                        
in a most volcanic emission                                                         ­ 
                                                               ­              - the ignition

There's fierce work
Amoungst the Butchers
Tooling upon a diseased cattle cull
A mutter of meats
and turned pieces
To be discussed
by the Monies in charge
stained
wet and heated
Thick knit
Behind clothed doors.

the meeting room inflates       mushroomed by vocal lashing
 nauseous and ugly welling
                      everyone's timely except the crucial host                      
top pockets and pens
                                                 stuffing of warmth
crucible of body gases and personal perfumes
no windows   /   low ceiling
               the vents clogged with dust and barnacles
one stifling roost

over the new mode room      a dominant black screen is vigilant
clocking the details    
scrapbooking the gloom
         (each rebel breath of mine   rivals the last)

there's an odd gap in the chitter-natter
dumbed silent punction to the point of audible body function
everybody is knocked from their element
plead broken this nervous moment...
..and someone does
            patricia hats a laugh
                                 and the flow re-bleats its motor    revived  
  

mike from c8 south
                                                   whinnies in my face
breath bad and bad coffee
he gaffles my energy
                            head bloods flood
and i can't hack it
                      this is where i get off        
                                  the worldly stutters me off the page
hot signal habits bunch
i am dudded

my distant avatar takes over                                             
              c­an it handle an idea of what i ought present ?
i am a kite operating the grounded pilot
i see him beam and nod dummy to conversation
representing ; i'll endure with this method         
i am only a member here              
    no sass of authority
my expected contribution need only be trivial

but then                                                             ­   
distant others look darkly through my reservoir
the gig is up     they know somethings contorted
i am drawing attention
what did my puppet say on my behalf ?
am i crooked and pale and wincing ?
am i laying out insult ?
these could be things
they concentrate through distorted waters
start chopping gestures
it is not liked and my auto options have failed
why can't we wash over this whole thing ?
we are dressed so nicely and it is only work
and breath and beating words
to replace peckerpits in the system
t h a t   i s    i t  !
the body crumples and exhibits
i whelm over it all
taking off as an apparition
moting higher still above the scene
i raise the ceiling some
but   represented   i lie on the floor
a rat ring of colleagues forms about me
some with baldness showing              
some dyed colours
one wears a fedora indoors
hunching over my mass
rodent strife

Tattle calls
Curses amongst the Merchants
They hack of new seasons
brided with ill weather
These social breaks
that cement their business relations ;
A ****** of Tongues
A Jinn
A wit that flees port
Fleas to the ears that scout town.

amongst the night scented pines
i register                
                 with an impish partner
     plugged from off a fancy tiered cake
      her school dance dress
                                       and me a lumberjack of fashion
new together
                   us toys two
splintered from our band of goofs

you are crow
                    I become antler crowned
a primer of pranky static
          amongst the wooded pines
                    roots and leaves
rhythm extant
                      and a flashlight
and slunken and bravado
and hip checks and embarrass
                        and mischief seek
and mischief applied
and bombast
                         stolen alcohol and torso
spatty wind and forrest
swig
mouth-to-mouth
                           and pines and dark
cloud covered stars and no moon new
all the time a thing impending
                             romance with exposed wrists
a sick excite
glassy glances into eyes                          
                and our mind could speed friction into flame
feel the spin of the earth
  it's all just speeding up
we clutch
the pine roots hold it all together
drawn silence....
...

and she laughs                                
              to unnerve the 'breath withheld'
then wind springs
                   and creaking and branches again
and we dance our feint  
                     we dub it 'the turpentine'
one flashlight
                       each takes turn and spotlights the other
drunken performances
                         hers a showy enchant      
                                   and baiting stumbles
                     discarded slippers
           earthy wet knees
                      through laddered tights
      playing meekish prey
i only take a quick awkward turn
(some tribal hunter mime)
           so she can clown once again

our spotlight scatters life
steals the nights light
strips auras from the trees
        and we fire out the beam
        in waste and hazard                
     as only courting humans would dare

[We are rendered vulnerable
Gender-less and pleasure-ful
Honest
Giddy children of the prance
Tuned to the occasion
of seasonal rearrange  
and jealous of nothing]

It's not yet the hour
that already flew past
The thin air runs smoothly
The hard thought
pulses fast
Beat-heart beats
All sound
as creature
retreats
Coming are the Winter ways
But tonite
we stand witness
to Tempus feint-play

Aside the River
Abreast the Well
Beneath the Earth
Cupping the Swell
With a Breath
Into the Breeze
We ignite new fire
And
‘Twixt these Veils
We effect our Tease

.
told frigid outside                                                          ­                    
within   love is stretched thin         this home   puckled tight
sealed  and buckled in      from all the social weathering
from the gatherings    in heated public yurts and gymnasiums
that fail short of ***** ****
from the bothersome geographic features out there          
       demanding expeditions, exploration and organization

within   we can see the fridge light                                      
                     ­                                in the middle of the night
we can receive signals and visions                      
                        but are pressed ******* our hearts
waiting out the winter wound

shaping my fevered brain
and solidifying stubborn my crooked thinking
i conceal myself in the scenery
of the workplace

i present as a model of honesty
i appear, 'above board'
as i manoeuvre amoungst my fellows ;
ailing employees and absurdities

there is weak will here
it makes them worth reforming
worth salvaging

it is a dream to me
there is a knack to this ;
a study of quality
whereby i may refine my own illness
and take up good work
in company

modern world                                            
so convenient so deceitful
simple tasks    like walking a dog
are given a promotion                                
                       ­ to spiritual level activities
but  without permission                          
sun rises and sets every day
and my toenails keep on growing savage
i clip  hack  and file                  
return to submission
                                             so far  so wound

so..like what we discussed the other day
                                       'to feel so infect-able'
i mean, cool concept and all but                                            
               you said you get it   and-and that's how i feel
                                                          you know ; all of the time
... like my brain is open and unprotected                    
         floods of **** other guys say  or **** i read online
stuff doesn't even make sense
they're just chewing on a mouthful of teeth
                                                        and­ it imbeds
gets right in the jelly and sticks around  
and it has nothing to do with anything       
                 but  i'll spend the day with my mood crumpled                
about some nasty '*******' directors              
behaviour on a film set ... when ...you know
it's not even a film i'm interested in seeing
and-and there's so much **** right at our front door
     we could help with that                                         
 but.. it's this irrelevant stuff
                                                that's what i'm occupied with
am i just that vulnerable ?   i'm an adult..                                  
           i should function without this damage
... get back to me as soon as you can ;   i'm freaking man !…..
you know what ?                                                                ­        
        this is what's important        and this is why we talk                
friends .. in the real world .. you know  such as it is
...left mucking stale turns before dawning a birth
pleasing   as drawing in a vital breath or something...
...i just.. i just want it back
re-slee­ve me
i miss the world
why did it leave me behind ? remind me
i looked in on it and there's no **** hotel in here
no airport lounge / midnite swimming pool /          
                                 abandoned zoo / empty theatre
no hollow feeds of subway tunnels                          
no void on anything
where's my basic program ?                          
       not even a grid of human planted fir trees
                               or a giants causeway
   or some cellular honeycomb
                      or some mad carpet design
i lost the pattern tap
           i'm off the leash man
           it's all a mess
             a disarray
              organic chaos
                a foreign something
      that doesn't want me to connect
i want to live like i’m part of the solution
but   each day in struggle                                          
           it seems i'm increasingly an aspect of the problem
i need to be reigned in
        and reassigned a post   policed
police me        i croon for policing
                          i am untrustworthy
an emulsion of self deception          
            (what does that even mean ?)
         spinning turns in quick fix habits
i look at these hands
  and     if I could dream these hands
                 they’d be magicians of value
get back to me man ! i miss yupping with you
this is the important stuff
           
                                               ­             - message ends

feet first                                            
into the treat of the night
the teating streets                            
         the neighbours pool
drunken fools the pair of uz          
      dunked in unruly lust
drunk as fruit flies                            
                  for the science
we list about                                      
                     ­                and stumble              
fumbling lyrics                                  
    in our dripping clothes

laughing like art gone temple        
  
a mentally unstable template    

that'll be fazed by the sunrise        
.

fluent ; we thutch and spear

sensation comes ; world and sphere

clutch cold after swell

.

erasing                                                       ­                   
  he rubbed and grubbed himself out  groinally
built up  with huffs and gummings of dead skin
                      all over his body
 in his mind  mothy thoughts                    
                                    became dust laden              
      and a glut of clay amassed in the gut
  all this in tomb   with his sole role  and room          

  tut-tut   he did it to himself
this is his wealth  and his jury
  peers back through time  into the wound
                              kick started it all
with excessive candy consumption   and aggressive firestarting
                     and compulsive theft   and blendlessness and obliving
ever worried    ever unmended
   arc back through the heart
         and refine the child
                as unfeigning          
                   and correctly naive