I could do it so easily
just buy one
put myself out of it already
I could do it so easily
just buy one
put myself out of it already
rose dawn sleep-worn sex
& irregular
collar gallows around me so
plaintive I (must have) forgot to
shoulder & me in four and
two divisible z-o-n-e-s
kissing seeking and fragility
penetrated were I (a
corpse renewed’broken’ in
four sections
& this so autocratic already
your vague& vulgar emblems creed
like distoned acrobatic flies
over the fourth & fifth
inner prisons
quiet pestilence moonfalls
trying
⠀⠀⠀so hard to
ignore you are so cold spiralsv
⠀⠀⠀chirping of crickets cascade your
(so many times left spinning
torture, thrust inside you &
prairie 0.31b-c 4-0 morningside
cigarette eyes tracking
tracing sunlight rays&memories&
shadows
⠀⠀⠀walldancing hands
⠀⠀⠀all over you
bushels fakemovementrunningtrunk
works out the. kinks nauseous
⠀⠀⠀un-fulfill me
tiny spirit down
unfalls, unflies
seeks
& is found
so
crystalline was it monoliths
⠀⠀⠀to distended creation
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀shivered,
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀broken
only the vainest form
⠀⠀⠀in sharpest veil swallowing right
⠀⠀⠀(so modular [was] it so
⠀⠀⠀ashamed) the
the greatest piano in
⠀⠀⠀all of Christendom, born c. 1536
⠀⠀⠀killed by
& so wrote o(n infernal thesis)
-f man
cold skin
cold hands
cold eternity
always so effortlessly cold is
ending lessly cold shadow
& memory cold joseph cold known(s)
cold suffers only under weight of warm
my regret is normal(oh so linked
to cold
every thing is so punctuated by mist && cold
truncated in an exosilence warm
though punctuated in cold
ball of unrolled fulfilled unfulfilled
⠀⠀⠀placenta furnace
well and reached sur-
⠀⠀⠀face can you blame
⠀⠀⠀me?
unmilk
unhand
real unreal
⠀⠀⠀has no trouble with un
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀making $200 [soul]&
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀spirit; uninseparable
⠀⠀⠀welcome
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀white-white blanche
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀lunch [singer] masks me in
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀an unworthy
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀relevance
your deluge symbolism,
effervescent, unw(a)orn(med)
shines new glow cold in your
snake-skin heel jacket
endlessly glowing spores (your)
Christmas showdown uncomment
s me
but
o’ multicolored tone poem in
fossil red and sleep
&& dreams
(flashing before me th red eyes
gallowsdance) can you
answer my question?
⠀⠀⠀oh but if i ever asked it
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀weeping
red velvet cake
batter filling & almonds
you could only taste the recipe through the trees
'cuz your head was in them
isn't it funny how the north wind blows?
he lashed out at staff.
but he's won a championship
we're weak but we're just valleys
not peaks so desired
like forceful
energetic daughter roses
& if they struggle again
through one more lurid season
he'll be out of a job
skin aired through thick pores.
world undone & new,
to my everything-passed neck
& I am draped in incense
wavering
fluttering around the base of your statue
skin aired through thick pores.
breathing with small jumps & starts
fits
& coalescent disharmony that boils
and sinks the soft soil into sand
and when I look into (your) deep gaze-blue red eyes
and when I look into (your) deep gaze-blue red eyes
nothing looks back
I want you to go to a place
where you don't exist
where the doctors all collapse
in rose
I told you to stop
your hands kept moving
touching
TOP SECRET//SI//NOFORN/FISA
hands moving breathing
living id
parsed ego
collapse into fans ethers
bridges
of undoing
& of absinthe
I told you this wasn't the right way
said it so many times I can't hear the words now
TOP SECRET//SI//NOFORN/FISA
when it falls apart
(down)
below sand
below water
boring
into cortices endless
when it falls apart
it looks just like it is
radiant
forbidden,
and in cold starts
& fits
begins to take
its radical shape
bent whorehouses
swallows,
dovetails
& the shopping bag
husband
(the cold man)
he’s looking aap mujhe
he’s looking for everyone
& walked in on
cold doorways
cold cold cold
so many colds
words
that don’t find
closure
dancing sanya
dancing woman in her jade
& whorehouse falling like
beads
on jade
between the two &
of the other
lies me
weak smile
heretic
no water
flying tears
works
she’s reading
matthew
this is the dress.
someone bought it
in my
kiss color
kiss in
kiss out
padded cells & lovelocks
don’t you know me?
and in her old home
(cobblestone, and
brick)
fresh
vegetables & wine
we eat on the grass&
kiss in the frond
folds
of the world conclusive
work with their shadows
no enemies here-
no closed eyes open pathways
breast like
skin on
skin
so beautiful
& yet
not literated(made literal
by beauty) the world
is
*a note in translation: (calm the soothed nerves
)
amanda
nathaniel
czech names
hus,
well, so
anyway
every motif shadow works
in spirit the Id
and recreated patterns
replicated
repetition in&
out of
hell
sold on the inside
on the outside it’s
gray gold
or black goose
hung well over solemn
decisions not made
or worn
the told
meadows
30
thirty and
five-seven
but
I’m not
you’re not
inwardly
(I can’t go first, it’s too conclusive)
(I can’t
go)
they want me to
marry you
this is well a
tiger
an endless
coalescence
& the ingots
you laid bare before
me
the check gets paid
&I go home
no problems
or emotions
holds
barred
god in blue eyes.
she saw
—in them their fury
and their sperm of creation
[do you know who she is?]
she worked her way up that endless fallacy
until she could sell herself a mark of sin:
and she thought she knew herself
in those deep blue eyes
where God stood.
muted regret shapes thorns —
ask me if I know where my day was
or (more importantly) where I was born
I'll smile and tell you the truth
with no flickering of the weak eyelids that adorn me.
for your sake and for the eternity of elses,
accept without compliment what fragile wind blows.
are you terminally online?
anyway
⠀⠀(he's in Van Nuys)
but
okay, so these
fragments
(when?) — (who?) —
&/(are) firewood and mulch, not more.
we're all alert
and playing our part:
"IF YOU SEE SOMETHING
SAY SOMETHING."
I had a dream about a man.
a man without being, or:
(and anyway)
when all is said and done
he's not going to be there
anymore.
everything turns, all of the time.
& such speed could never touch (begging you
to touch me) my fog-born and laden
eminence.
frantically numb. her soldier eyes that burn
she could dance with that cane.. she got it for her wisdom
& she's not afraid to singe your paper edges.
no stark contrast or handsome element could cure this—
there's no cure so seldom desired
she's like torture. and you'd know that
if you looked—
shimmering tattered satin
that adorns us
when we beat each other in the streets
and if I could ask it a question, I probably would
but when answer is just sullen request
and red fleece or linen that you can't breathe
there's no point to these interrogations
I don't ask anything I don't know myself
I don't say anything I know
or let on that I'm smarter than I realize
I have a tube amp tied to the inside of my arm
and it's playing out lonely tones
faintless seductor smiles
smoke in the
Spores and torn mirrors
(I wish you were around me.
smile and a silence that could cut steel rope.)
as I see you now
(in LED aftermarket screen
face in blue fading tones
some red like awareness after
with all---
everything
She sits in the emerald fields. Jade. Sweet jade. Skinny, thin. Periodical music of an orchestral timbre or , in some case, the John Cage effervescence or Terry Riley. And she's skinny. Hair like she never skipped an eon. Fashion forward, not fancy. Cute, she lingers, and she loves! "Let's build a castle," she says. "Be the queen. Our youth is never over. We are, as always and forever, our free selves."
I worry like I'll run out of sunsets to see.
(Don't worry and you'll be fine.)
You fuck nothing.
(We all have our sullen egos..
tight sun also rises.)
I'm the splinter of this lonely world--
won't you come give me a kiss?
in the land of thy and the lonely.
where all narrow antiquity descends
its marble staircase to touch you,
Felicity
in locks behind sacred canals
and the home of one cursèd share
come forth the son to seek,
come forth the meadow to despair:
Strid
and the world:
cold in its shallow efficacy
that breeds contempt in executioner
and in roost of the gallows.
Strid! the whip cracks
and again, on the hard flesh
turned soft by worn age and tiresome,
Strid! and the circle begins to form
at first it takes shapes without loss,
yet again it moves —
Strid! take thy daily punishment
as offer for the bread one receives;
take the shadows for real sigils
Strid.. with reluctance and bare
it comes down once more,
until becomes of the weak only corpse
and compartment:
the cracking that bleeds the man
solders the heart of him,
and allegory disappears,
at peaks
& at pinnacles
of discovered reaction.
down beneath the flowing water & its
killing current, judge and jury in one castle,
the lowly Barrister that wanders found there
is nothing but your gore and squandered favor.
what happened to the pre-contact dogs?
come on, my swallow worthless,
follow me into lavender & wine:
where the soul dare not touch the heart
is where your feather lives.
she coasts on velvet and suede-colored sweat
beads clinking in their aphrodisiac manner
across her empty surfaces that say:
"We know you
We are your effect"
she has her power over you
which she wields divine,
covering the shadows of guilt and shame
where their fortune is conquest
and success an immortal accident
let's run away and dance in secret
over molded meadows and the song of
Spanish dancers eloping (in sunset)
songbird:
mellow harm
eclipses the paled sun
father of Christ,
hear my whisper:
or beg
(a roar.)
hear it, nothing more
it's from the bottom of my new
heart
God in flames.
(You wonder why it is
that all of your sigils
must burn.)
Tabidly, He burns, too.
in a different sense,
and not like royalty.
If you stand close enough to me
you can hear the low burial hum
of His fire.
my insecurity is effortlessly seductive
and I do not have to do anything at all.
it works just the way it does
I wouldn't dare interrupt the passage of time
when your sacred currency folds.
you and your animal angel
worthless prodigies,
like bliss venerated,
or crystals divinating without mercy
or blessing:
there’s something to be said for forms
that lose all meaning,
like your skirts,
which vanish when you disrobe.
there is much less to say about spirits,
and nothing at all for the birds.
indecent rivers
murky like wine,
dirt and
shame and
grime
run through
my head
and the different
equalities
and time-zones crossed
to get to where
you are.
I don’t remember
what happened
when you left.
I remember there were boxes
behind us, and the sky was gray
like the nullity of our curses
--not swears--
and the smell of your breath
against mine.
I remember first encounters,
but I cannot find, deep in the calendar
of my memory, your last words to me,
the things you said to me
before I never saw you again.
I cannot remember you well anymore,
just what we ate, where we slept,
your face in its innocence and anger
which burn concurrently,
parallel, and shadow beauty.
I cannot remember much of myself back then either,
but I remember the way it felt when I saw you no more,
and the way the shame and fierce agony
took months to get there,
lurking,
in my mirror.
Taken in once and for all, with one
swoop of closed eyelids,
Las Vegas is a miracle that doesn’t believe itself.
doctors bound in lemuria
or the castles of theosophy,
deliver our children
in montana,
under the sun or the sky blue,
where the roses of last winter are hung
and held
like summers in vogue
an embarcadero of weak flames
that cascades into an earth forbidden
where the coils of sand and time sink memory
into wet, colossal zones without space,
without treasured continuity
life unlived on endless margins
could never mean so much to me.
intellectual
kisses we stand,
there.
desire,
surgically extricated,
cannot burn
like sandpaper does.
styrofoam.
in the back seat
hand touching dark leathers
all that i touch an
anticlimax
cab ride to the airport
hauled to the gallows
in every stranger there is a friend
unmet, in
a friend
likewise.
in there now. gripping
plastic bags I feel so cold
one last breath
or kiss
could save my life
unlived, in
a friend unmet and
change falls down slow. tranquil beads
sinking
down the line, where the sick crowd goes:
who was it and that which
I am I say and hold me
and do not let me
go.
in the back seat hand touching nothing
all that I touch an
eternity.
I would rather be ignorant,
like a sparrow,
soaring over open fields
and when my stomach rumbles with hunger
I'll think:
love yourself!
and hold on even tighter to what time you have left,
time that's sitting in your pocket
I made eight little puppet toys,
based on the figures of eight of my friends,
for my son to play with,
for him to think from the start
that this is a fun world
The second step:
I'll teach him to recognize the enemy
One day I'll die on the highway
like a bird
The yellow-vested sanitation workers
will pick me up,
gently stroke my feathers,
and let me die in their hands again
At this moment
sitting peacefully
watching an angel float through my mind
can you tell me
is this beautiful?
mother
At this moment
sitting quietly
if I, serene as this, died right here
could you tell me
is this complete?
mother
can you give birth to me again?
i'm all rotten now
like a cookie preserved from many years ago
covered in calluses and dust
and missing the unfamiliar