Thursday, April 22, 2010


Boudoir branches
Avian dreams
Back and forth
between green leaves.

Eat the gnats
that mill in swarms.
Tiny swirling circles.

Cry my cry
though know
one comes
Can birds sigh?
If so, I'm one.

Alright Altar Boy

Alright, Altar Boy
of the worst
sacramental misgivings
shibboleth fire
transvestite kisses

Nibble on
a loaf of bread
as you kneel
on the curb

How to invoke the gods:

Tentacle dreams of untold night
the notches of my spine collide
the muscles tighten cross my back
the tingling speaks to what I lack
Flaming flame of seaborn spheres
the struggling fish assuage my fears
the tightening net the struggle binds
the black-eyed bruises
the slack-jawed wife.
Oft told, the wants that starve the needs
The beaten traveler strikes his steed
The craggy sailor cuts his beard
The captive swimmer swimming far
From aft to end to fore to yaw
And still the lure accepts the stock
the hook yearns for a fleshy jaw
the traveling sailor shoots his wife,
the cephalopodan stiff, the night
I cut my hand
on a piece of glass
from a broken
wine bottle that you smashed
We tried to drink
what remained inside
behind the old construction site
The cops walked past
but never guessed
the violence of
that night
When you took my
hand and didn't
the blood in the
street's cold light

The Philosopher

I bet she's a lot of fun naked.

She has a way with money
She never seems to care
Put me in your wallet, dear
So I fall out
along with change
loose receipts
Put my on your bookshelf
The one in your office
with the rams head busts
carved out of stone

Atmospheric Perspective

Unrelenting gusts
leaf through my hair
earth presses against
the weight of my step

I cry, I cry
through a
silver sieve
Drip drops
the wine:
Tannic victory

Atmospheric phases
of mist
twinged bright
across the lanterns
tacked fog
to fog
to eyelids,
misty cheeks,

Lady of the rocks
thy immaculate cave
offers no shelter.

Distant figures
compose themselves
for you
a gust reveals
a calm


retreat as slick as your hair
Custer should have been
so brave.
The Alamo always falls
Carthage is always razed
And no one can recall
Sweet Cassandra's gaze.

The Propheteer

Within map lost
and without
no home
but home what home

Port Passage grant
me the silver bell;
one of the glimmering set.

A door is opened, room revealed
a mattress of corn husks
a pillow of fur
a cup, full yet with
still-warm petals, still

So take me to the diorama
Bring me
To waltz under full
halogen moon
full halo of a moon
Stalled memory
of my favorite melody
or was it tune
Just can't recall
I don't collect, recollect, collect

So Once

Autumn would have me
among the somber rushes
and blusters, gales,
and saffron leaves and;
Toward the rose horizon
Twice the beam
wavers and shakes
And the cold glow
Bathes us both.

The Hits

Under the door a
footstep echoes
followed by another
and so forth

Whistle bright
whistle slow
As the hits
drew nearer
We got the beat, yeah.

We got the sliver
under the door
through the blinds
Across the sheet

And so forth
the echo fades