emptiness of emptiness

the turbid gleam of metaphors collapsing,
the all-seeing fang in helpless revolution
would you spark if struck against it,
would weaker gravity throw you
if you hide a man from himself,
put him in the center of a room
with suicides in limbo
laughing into the empty mouth of the night

god dam

rorschach blots: twin eunuchs raping
the shaping of shaken babies baking:
dummies disintegrating in a bomb blast

curious clown shoves a shitty book up his ass
spits out golden garbanzo beans
belching like a frog popped with a needless
needle springing around like a flea

somewhere a mirror fractures the world
that fucked and fucked and fucked
the flavor out of the wind and the seas:

baby moses floating among the reeds
dislodged and racing down river styx
thrilled and thrashing, killed while crashing
into the god dam

a mess age

"words are never sublime
they are the naked detritus
of worlds sublimating their pain
worlds reconstructed through hollow
communicable sound

stones digging into the ground
negating all poetry
affirming layers and layers
of what surpasses meaning
the very foundation"

- a note tied to a brick, lying
in shattered glass

??

you will be colored in like a harpy
plucking the eyes from children
who drew you
like a sword to slay the beast you were
and
you will be a darkened intercourse
that even the shadow is ashamed
to hide

I will bury your body in the roaring waves
I will leave you there forever

Language Game

mouthfuls of dust
our bodies
of work
our magnum opus
shot in the dark

we can see the tops
of what were mountains
good enough
before cracked lips
seal around our necks

we hunt by the scent
trailing from imprints
in the bedrock
deep enough to swim
in, but emptiness

is easily occupied
we would prefer our busy
heads not be mounted
on a huntsman's walls
but flowing like rivulets

down the highest
ground, transfusing
back into the earth
already out of ideas
blanketing paralyzed

offerings
curled up like ants
burnt by magnifying
eyes that flare
like impassive suns

mannequins'
hides draped over glass
cloth and polyester resin
molds, no such luxury
as being lyophilized

Digestive Tractability

He spat on his food, cutting
Her into strips of tender
Loving meat, so that he alone
Would be eager to suck
All of the flavor out, chew,
And, grinding her into pulp,
Let her become briefly
Acquainted with his inner
Self, a tangled, wet machinery
That is satisfied not by filling
But by continually purging.

She was rare, a well-marbled
Beauty. She had bled sweetly,
Diluting herself as she hissed
Happily in heat. Now just a bone,
She is gnawed on by a dog,
Who will probably choke
On her stabbing splinters.
But He, he will yet gorge
Himself, until his arteries
Stop up, and his heart
Will cease its beatings.

Carrier

i wanted to open the dove
and let my hands fly out
to make a butterfly-shadow,
so that if i was caught in a lie,
there would only remain ends
of radius and ulna,
and even if i pressed
them to paper
and scrawled a cover story,
you couldn't read the indentations
from where you're standing.

instead, the bird perched
on my lips was a pigeon.

Plight of the Angel

My wings are awesome,
I can totally fly.
How in the hell am I an angel?

I smell like daffodils dunked
In slime.
My halo itches

But I can't touch it,
Or it will cut off
All of my fingers.

Funeral Rights

You're free to lie down in fire,
We'll even provide the pyre.
Or if you'd prefer something more corporeal,
Don't worry, we'll prepare a stunning memorial.
But if you were religious in life,
The preacher-man is an extra price.
Just sign on the dotted line, x marks the spot,
The headstones await you on the burial plot.
If you'd like to line your casket,
We have plenty of items in our baskets.
Have some pine-scented air fresheners,
They might help with post-mortem depression
Resulting from the miasma of your corpse,
Which will worsen the more it warps.

Danger Music

In order to play this piece, first
The composer is to decompose,
On sight, in the middle of the stage.
Then the conductor will be strapped
With a leather belt
To a lightning rod.
This rod will be placed in between
Two active Tesla coils,
Performing the looping melody:
F-A-C-E
C-A-G-E.
Each musician around this display
Seated with his instrument
In crescent after crescent,
Crescendo after crescendo
Will swallow and play it from the inside.
The bars will bend, starving notes
Will jump from paper to feed on the players.
Fortissimo ad infinitum

Con Artist / Skulduggery

While it may seem logical
To put a hole in your head
So that the struggling sculptor
Inside will stop chiseling
Bone fragments from your skull,
Eventually intending to break
Through just the same, logic
Is only a program written
To deal with the mistakes
Of the past, in the present.
There's a trick:

Conceit.
Conceal yourself,
Concentrate.
Conceive a cutthroat,
Control his every move.
Conquer the creator.
Concatenate every
Concept,
Conflate them all.
Condense yourself.
Condemn yourself.
Contradict yourself.
Conform
Contumaciously,
Confuse.
Conclude.
Congratulations.

Sweet Jesus

Chow down on some
Confessional confectioneries,
Lavish lectern layer cake,
Marshmallow pope
On a liquorice rope,
Easter eggs in the organ loft,
Hot Cross buns on the altar
Chandeliers dripping donut glaze,
Fudge pews lined with caramel
Bibles and strawberry hymnals,
Chocolate coins in the tithing tray.

Salvation never tasted so sweet,
Submission was never so cloying.
Going to church is such a treat,
Praise be, there's always something to eat!
If there weren't, that would be annoying.

Idleization

We kissed each other's tentacles
And pleasured each other's genitals
Until our bodies seethed and spasmed
Our throats spewing ectoplasm
As we called forth the dark specters
Of id, and more perverse sectors
Generally reserved for spiders
Where inside ourselves we're outsiders
But now we populate wastelands
With ghosts we build with our hands

Terrorrhea

Egocentric philanthropist,
Rub some Vicks near your eyes
So you can muster up tears,
Cry a brook and write another
Book. The cockroaches need more
Disposable coffee-table saviors.
Or you could save a tree instead.
Maybe if money was the flower,
Maybe if ratings were the fruit.
Hurry, don't step on your own feet,
You've got a congregation
Converting to a conflagration.
They'll paint this town freedom
And let it ring, like a phone
No one would bother to answer.

If you would like to make a call,
Please hang up and dial again.
If this is an emergency,
Please hang up and dial 911.

Be Longing

Carpenter bees bored a hole in the wood
Framing my window, wagged their way inside;
Unable to leave, trapped themselves for good.
Between window and screen, they slowly died.

Outside, in the mailbox, resides a nest.
I can think of few places worse to build
Such a shelter for growth and deserved rest.
Hatchlings lay hot, smothered, entombed by bills.

Here I am, but little inconvenienced
By these poor inadvertent intrusions.
Wings seem suddenly less advantageous;
I'm quite pleased with my accommodations.

Eternity as Long as You

Dumb and free, dead
Crackling from mouths
Like a droning signal
Sprawled across time
Thrumming sound loops
Spinning uninterrupted
Needle locked in the groove
Having reached the center
Needle locked in the groove
Spinning uninterrupted
Thrumming sound loops
Sprawled across time
Like a droning signal
Crackling from mouths
Dumb and free, dead

narcotissistic

I cut along the length of my brain's

Dirty, matted underbelly

Splitting open the thinning flesh

Lift it with the fingers I will

Sink into its center

Bound to my chair

I will speak in riddles

Which are soluble in what?

Or questions that mislead the answers

To thinking they have anything to do

With what I just said

With gargling and choking sounds

It cries wolf

But the wolves would rather starve

A Pock o' Lips

Earth drowned in her blood
Wombed inside out
Groomed with a leper's hand
Combing in the coins from the stone
Face of a dead bitch
I ate your young
They lived long enough to see my stomach
Which growled and the Earth
She cleared her throat
Dead
What is "dead"?
She threw all of those children
Wrapped in each other's limbs
Like trees of widowed love into the sky
Which died
It fell, it falls
It punches holes in the dirt
Everything, and I mean everything
Is coated and sopping up
While all of the babies
Tarred and feathered
Throw their Binkies on the floor
And cry

The Death of Being Unable to Speak

Jesus Christ never flew through a windshield

Johnny on the spot, like a plummeting butterfly

A pocket full of miracles in a pair of pants He left

Baking in the sun

"He never hurt no one"

Torn jeans, with splotches of bleach and blood

Pulled the wool over the eyes of the wind

"I said my prayers," said the prayers

The water on the outside of the glass will form a halo on the wood

My own private executioner, with ice floating around in His blood

Break the table apart, build a cross

Paint it Christmas colors and shove it down a chimney stack

I love you, said the coathanger to the fetus

Nailed to the plaque

Pushed the stone from the womb

It's easier with a hand over your eyes

Give me a chance, baby Jesus,

Whoa, what's that,

Holy fuck,

We're gonna crash.

secret secretions

There will always be a need for this,

So long as there is a gap between us

Begging for a wedge.

There will always be a need for,

Well, my grinding dreams,

Sugar cubes crumbling into cream.

There will always be a need for,

My wounds, sealed

Off rooms fingers comb through.

There will always be a need for,

Longing, or the wheel spins no longer

In circles, while faces painted white

Obsolete secrets.

Neon Brain

While concrete cocks are poised to the poisonous blue

I'd rather not fly away from home

I'm afraid I'm already sinking away from you

But that's where I wanna go

I wanna sleep alone, if I could escape my neon brain

Glowing extra fuzzy in the clichéd acid rain

Unless you'll stop shutting your eyes

I exist to stare into them

I don't know how else to hold onto...

You don't think I'm crazy, do you?

I pull the clouds together and hope they block out the sky,

When I pretend to be god,

Knowing how to help you

My teeth collected in a brown paper sack

My body on fire, chin resting in my hand

Skin peeling and falling to the sidewalk

Interspersed with clumps of grass between the cracks

Life will find away

I'll float from the heap into a herd of sheep

And we'll all love everything together

As long as it's good enough for us

song of your self

I hate you because I love you, but
You don't love anything do you?
Not even the songs, they pass right through you
They're not even right, they're not even wrong
They don't even bite, they're not even songs
What do you sing when you cleanse yourself?
Is it a habit in the shower?
What do you sing when you cleanse yourself?
Appreciate me, you cowards
Appreciate my plastic flowers
In a pewter vase
Let me show you how I hide my face
Let me show you

haiku

I.
Branches of olive
Extend like small children's arms
To embrace rivals

II.
String tied to finger
Sound of a leaky faucet
Between twitching ears

III.
Altruistic farce:
Groan slightly under the weight,
They jump up and down

IV.
Pull your head back down
Cotton puffs of ice crystals
Have nothing to say

V.
A woodpecker pecks
Branches not far from the tree
While the bugs snicker

VI.
Just because mountains
Don't cry when you blow them up
Doesn't mean you should

VII.
Identical trees
Make it impossible for
Me to navigate

I am a hinge no longer attached to a door. I am embedded in the earth somewhere hidden under a mountain of refuse. I could still hold a door to the frame. Find some screws, fasten me down. I like to be held in place for a reason.

sun & moon

There once was a sun who couldn't shine on everyone
Every second of every day, so at night he channeled his rays
Through a moon who appeared very hard on the surface
Who cold and cratered bored everyone to sleep, furtive
Enough to duck behind clouds, gleaming behind misty cowls
He didn't shine so much on darkness as made
The darkness shine; his hope was that when the sun climbed
Once more to its height in the blue expanse
It would find what it left subtly enhanced

satisfact

Love is always revenge
It dribbles like the froth from my mouth
Through fingers into touch
Sculpting words into shapes
Sculpting hideous shapes into artifacts
Crested with rubies of my effort
Our arms clasped like vises
I felt the laughter in your chest
Rise through your throat
Breathe into my ear
It is a brief revenge
For all the shadows that pour through our bodies

jitterbug

something I found, that I had written on paper a few months ago:

Attics light in light sources
Attic's light lights up one last time
Addicts light up one last time
No one is in the rooms
The groan - was it
Light entering the bulb,
The floor suffering weight?
The light and the floor suffer to wait
Holes push light in like fingers
Puncturing a skinless fruit
Juicy dripping - juice sticking to the wood
Would smoke push the light to the surfaces?
Vibrating in
Place, the walls,
Wood smoke

Bulbs crashing from the sky
Spilling light from A mind
Hope
Flies
On the surface
Stuck in this
Moment
Bodies pressed together like lips over secrets
Can't be kept
Laughter in the lack of light
Quivering in withdrawal

the sound at night you think is a gunshot, but are not sure

This bitter wine makes words taste sweet
But I'm choked up
The blood that soaked my feet
Was so cold and thin
I didn't have trouble prying the gun from your fingers
Not because of your grip
Though I must admit, alive
You looked more gaunt and grim
The room is starting to spin
Holding your heart in my fingers
I examine the exit wound
I would curl up and die in your chest
If I knew it would save one of our souls
The chambers remain impregnated
With bullets
And even if you wouldn't believe it
The universe will ache without you
Even if it reaches around looking for the source of pain
Finding nothing but twitching skin
The sky is kind enough to hide the stars
Out of commemoration to your life
And disappointment in your choice
Or it's just really cloudy
And I can't keep anything in or out of my mouth
Words drip down this page
Splashed with my dizziness and want of sleep and
Reaching for the release
Which buries you deeper than six feet

you know

there's an atomic bomb in my mouth;

I just can't stop singing

Jesus, since you're in my heart

could you be so kind as to perform a bypass?

your crown of thorns is tearing to shreds

my most important vessels.

it's very inconsiderate

you, not Jesus now, but you

you're quivering like a jello mould on a plate in front of me

fork sticking out of your face

what's this

you're bleeding

you're just never done, are you?

I was sitting across from other mouths with bodies attached

In a circle of chairs, swallowing cud with my ears

I'm a cow

I'm a pig

which is it?

would you piss on me if I was on fire?

I love you more than anything, you know

???

Hugged by a devil, scorched retinas begging
And a pariah administers a rorschach test;
I'm staring at mossy walls through a keyhole.
There's an angel readying a guillotine.
I could have sworn that I saw a lurching beast
Or blood and skin in a bowl.
And suddenly it hit me - in the gardens
Of mist, dust, and carnivorous plants,
Rocks that sang like Hemophiliac,
And bathing nymphs melted into the water -
I was jumping out of a plane above Montparnasse.

mir(or)age

Weightless, I collapse into the space of memory
Unwanted images flash behind my eyes
Wildly flickering screens barely able to contain
Spasms pressed up against their glass
I see her floating through slate-black washes
Inside slimy mires of mind
I hear her whimpering, nearly
Drowned out by toneless buzzing
Lost in cold, reverberating dark
I've forgotten her face
Once burned in so deep
Now formless, an amoebic frame stretched
Colorless and emasculated across
The backs of my eyelids

quandary

Can't you see the wires tugging at my cheeks
I'm leaking oil and completely indifferent
My poems are about each other
Not themselves, not carefully zipped up skins
And you're fire gone out to find work
But it doesn't
I'm ashamed of a world that can't remember how to breathe
While my respirator kicks itself to loosen the needles
I don't wanna put words in mouths
I wanna put mouths in words
They'll leave the taste of fruit on your lips
Faintly caked with ash
Like the downy underbelly of a phoenix
Whose quills spill the chained vital fluids that normally drip
From the ears of lovers and fighters
The music is too loud
Slit your wrists so I can sleep
I don't want to help you

"..." To the Sea, I Can

I am a trickle of blood issuing from a strained
eye, a muffled static
carved from the escarpment across which a giant
dragged his boots
I aggregate and spread my wings thin
over the dying gaze of a transient, or I
bury myself beneath the shed
hair and torn flesh of fallen battle cries