I am shipwrecked
next to the shell boy
next to the war patient
brandishing the war patent
for george malady
I am karma's apprentice
changing bodhisattvas skins
in the brooklyn labyrinth
I stretch this poem over the void
to plug the soul leak
in the bleeding fountain
I paint hours with art stains
when grenades slip in between
the hands of time
I store my indigo bits
in the nibiru database
I am the watcher
I am the minefield.



muscle can dance, tick, tick,
can shift up down point

toes. can in sensate though
deeply tired, knowing it

where the skin breaks a
bruise to surface spreading

something hurts / let go / you
say "intensely" a freedom

the mouth opens, ticks
wrists like crickets / i say

much too heavy for this
thin frame. a frequency

muscle through fat, blood
through epidermis, is a

feeling, i like it, is a city
she said, opening her mouth

now thrusting hands back
mimicking wings now

one shoulder leads, chin
points up one sky; polish

with palms / vocally
he tells portends what

might come. to keep this
rigor from setting in

acid naku

elaborate drift scams acid

parsed mobile dreams /nos

ooo the flesh remembers
still nos/

talgia. anterior lobe soft angles

ceded wings ooo light fielding

torch play drams of nutmeg
cheap flight

ananewa, ananewa, onomoto

flickr still off the burning leaves
haynaku a

naku a ripple of chemical trace


Blaspheming with Lurlene

when the daylight starts to dive
beneath Midwestern doldrums
and I am resigned to own them all my life
I venture to the lifeline of Lurlene

when retractions travel fast enough
for glee to be refunded
I decide to chew the fat
with Ms. Anxiety herself: Lurlene

a cable network isn't worthy of my lifetime
but I better how I feel
when turning left into the dampness
where awaiting is the queen Lurlene

insolvency is habit forming
says her nibs in fitful repartee
I pray under my breath while
I await arrival of Lurlene

in a moment of nutrition I collapse
under the weight of others' yearning
just as sustenance becomes the weak link
to the nefarious warm inklings of Lurlene

I wash dermatological invective
left unstrained while being poured
baptismally across the young scrubbed foreheads
of the rancorous Lurlene


different perhaps

i owe you the time
of a second
perhaps a mad gesture
of truth
how unbelievable
the cynics win your heart
i owe you
the rest of this thought
before it never was

iam alone with my electricity (1.a)

myopias, it all

churns in hair: oceans should convince me, tangled ivy and swirling are from the century's bend: action, the I penetrates afternoon air

stain of the is: tossing their incredulity: sadness falling
from what been sinister beards: succumbing: conceal: the knight has flowers: the from open windows, gothic: lemon of me, no chalky white I could live deconstruction and its strange mandala flesh: metaphysical eyes: alcoholic people moving for so long, the hydra

we glyphs rising slowly, forever in doorways: going to feed the landscape to the snow of imagination: gently about my philosophy from perhaps to bones, pungent after most complex strangulations plant themselves in its cut of music: perfection: it's within my cold but matter: onto your precious rhymes with me

my perennial flaming spires: the outside