BLOODWORK
a missed bath
for the almost
white of uncreation,
the threaded
needle of a vein,
away, dreamed
unsunned skins
lead themselves
astray.
Just a temporary man, who writes poetry and listens to too much noisy music. His hobbies include salivating about glaciers destroying civilization and the cultivation of facial hair. Additionally, he generally strives to make himself as useless as possible....follow the thread back...
BLOODWORK
a missed bath
for the almost
white of uncreation,
the threaded
needle of a vein,
away, dreamed
unsunned skins
lead themselves
astray.
Posted in Poetry, Words | No Comments »
LEAVE OFF
the pencil can only
dream of graphite,
the pen, of flesh,
hoard, petals
sear the air,
blooms shedding
any noblesse oblique,
while the sun vibrates
in a milky sky, devouring
this quiet day, breezes
full of teeth, petals sew
the clouds shut,
bicycles chase their
riders, papers wait
blankly, remaining
bone white, despite
their best held
breathes.
Posted in Poetry, Words | No Comments »
EVERY ACT OF REMEMBERING—IS AN ACT OF DESTRUCTION
demiurgically recreated, of course,
I. laughing somewhere beyond the
sky as he makes them darker, dist-
orted, so roses transmute into daisies,
become bone shards, become lilies
tearing their way out of dry April
soil.
are we getting the picture? we reframe
our faces so many times, our six eyes,
six tongues, seven toowhite smiles—
the presence of our absences weighing
down papers in some breezy library,
barren shelved, I. lurking behind window
panes, his bacterial breath fogging them
with the night’s stars.
long ago I could have been the one to
kiss you, cool-lipped, shaking, cupping
your breast under clouds—or coins, or
origami, made minute by the moment,
minutes passing—then, or, then, near
a wall that is now a wall, where after-
wards, you could turn away, swallow
your tongue, turn your eyes green from
blue and
even words slip between our fingers,
I hold mine, cursing I., against my
lips, black bilious syllables cascading
down my chin, as the sunlight churns,
each second a catastrophe of the best
thinking, possibilities collapsing back
into I.’s hands, for him to force back-
wards into the heart of our slimy gray
labyrinths, the keys of our eyes hang-
ing on the cord, around the moon of
his docetic neck.
Posted in Poetry, Words | No Comments »
NO THING BUT THINGS
all elevation is illegible,
lilies ineligible, or at least
un-elegiac, we lie if
laughing, we shoulder all
our unused organs in long
bone black nylon bags,
the extra lungs longing,
lightless, left dreaming
of slight, slight hills.
Posted in Poetry, Words | No Comments »
DOPPELGÄNGER
here is the
split—a low
tuning fork,
entrylevel
docetism
under a
blue moon.
:;:
web dreams,
unsilked,
without
eight eyes,
without
nine arms,
just another
walking ahead
of you.
Posted in Poetry, Words | No Comments »
WAITING ROOMS
a doze
-n empty
television
screens, hide
our wound
up minds.
it’s all
seconds, here—
glass and curtains,
separations, antiseptic,
just the place
for our hopes to
endlessly stalk
echoing hallways.
Posted in Poetry, Words | No Comments »
“NO LAND UNINHABITABLE, NO SEA UNNAVIGABLE”
some summer here,
this someplace, concrete
island, steel-river-ed over
other, older streams
a super-imposed geography,
faked land-writings, regulated,
unlike and like a thousand
other someplaces, except
that space, the place of the
last dread alternative, will
unwilled, un-lime-d, un—
lined papers, the chart-less where
“the very sunbeams froze…”
Posted in Poetry, Words | No Comments »
FOOL’S GOLD
formulas decay—moon-ly,
absent an alchemist,
but we’re here:
in morning,
each morning,
all front-doors and facades,
to recalculate
the weight
of our leaden hearts.
Posted in Poetry, Words | No Comments »
-SHUN
a night stuck with needless
a song half heard in the remembering
a road more absent than rising
a day becomes another, an other day walks in its place
a pen breaks its lead
a puddle of water cracks like the tumbled glass
a moon swallows several clouds, later it will vomit blue bits in front of a bar, in front of a bus stop
a bed waits, half-full or half-empty, like an argument with a pessimist
a(n) a a(waits), as(ssumes) a((n)other))
š?n…š?n…š?n…
Posted in Poetry, Words | No Comments »
NOW HOW WOUND SOW?
ein-eyed, Wednesday bears
some sloppy breath, a broke
word, gasped out, if heard.
herded buildings stand before
a storm, never wrought, no
rain, all the moisture was already
here.
Posted in Poetry, Words | No Comments »