We live among kings and sorcerers and plasmic sonnets
and serpent-lined oceans and speed-freaking comets
breaking left around untapped worlds of ether
and crested hawks and tales of Caesar
and acetylene-soaked music (and the guitarist drops a match)
and pharaohs and arks and Grecian tracts
and the words of Faulkner and pianos
and gilded lilies heaving like sopranos
and foamy, crashing sunsets and Davis’ “Kind of Blue”…
Why in hell would I care for the evening news?

Time, Sun, quadrants of ;
Consist me, skin; Memory,
Rhythm on worn soles, the
Unfed bone machinery
The planets do not care
Their accidents pleasurability
Freshman, wisteria; slipping bookbag
College in degrees

A solemn mending
The orbit about her staring
Nine years two hundred twenty days
Of my soul endlessly daring
The marsh, or Time when it slows
The bloated corpses arose
Thistle bound, satin and soot
Heaven is worse than it looks

Atmosphere[at-muh s-feer], here the ALWAYS of breath
The KNOW of time,
Farming insanity from the rhyme of
Death, its shoulders doused with the soot
Of consequence
The spindled boys trapping crawdaddies
In a creek the
Singe of honey crusted meat
The scent of honeysuckle
Stained yellow with summer Sun
Their words undoing, undone
The poetry of mother’s sons

Ebullient field of stars throbbing with nectar;
Startling the void,
The hum of insects rising as a voice
Searing off the thromboids
My bent chest, arrested with the weight
Of heavenly urchins Time and Scene
Wake me from their undulating chords
Explain in plainsong what it means

The air is never meant to prince
To the king, Leaden Gravity
Nor the light let loose its leather reigns
On the chariot’s calamities
Err to the night, its frozen breath
Sing over its shoulders, undertow
All gravesites crown with fresh bouquets
Everyone who will never know

Rhythmic decimals, Euclidean architecture of
Proteins
Resisting with each breath, measured against scales of grain
Maddening with insolvubility with the sprit of things,
The peace of stars left alone of gravity as
God intended but for the drinking
Mankind, or what is
Divined from insanity

They are homologous critters pasteurizing the
Air we see
Arrhythmic, ******* blood sausage
And unmanned celestial destinies
They are doctrine,
DNA eroding along the edges of print
The cast iron machinations of envy
Untamed eyes on canon flint
Press on, Press your
Emotions tripping on fingertips
The banal brigade  
I resist;,  A child holding a fist