Monday, May 2, 2016

May 2nd goes by

flipping through heavy metal sheets
outside the storm spits blue against my window
keyboard over my cock and 99 luft balloons on radio repeat

I have as yet to digest my dinner
hair still twisted dark with rain
that falls like car wash waves over my windshield vision

tonight has come and thunder has gone
lightning still hangs static behind the tri-horned god

the power has not gone out
nor have the lights once flickered weak

nor have I uncrossed my black whiskered legs
to grip and grope and knead
beneath a blanket of restless caffeine sleep.

Death Valley

I'm so far removed from the atomic bomb
some nights I don't even feel its life-like pull
it is like I never existed at all
and the trap door under the earth never spun open
it is like the national parks still remain isolated and remote.

why were those UFOs left to shine their lights onto the carapace
without anyone bringing them down?

this was reported on Sightings long ago.

I remember the man with the hard black hair
and the lines on his face,
he spoke earnestly through green veins.

why won't the reports of my birth certificate go away?

It seems like my remote finds the same programs every night,
the channels keep multiplying but the DNA stays the same.

Radiation is placed in front of a green screen then filmed.
the guys in the back are just bodies, dancing.

ink is less dynamic skin and bones,
black red or white.

Sunday, May 1, 2016

why the alarm still goes off

what's the difference in a day
a waking day with no difference
still the hours betray me and from
sun comes inevitably the moon
or from the moon inevitably
becomes the sun and I reflectively
shut and open my eyes to the
blaring sound of shaking lines
from where I am told to begin
a waking day with no difference

Friday, April 29, 2016

Rain Mantra

oh ow wo this going in circles
this circular path 
this vast spanning spinning circumference 
set to curve around the moon
wrapped around about the sun
om maw wow dirt speck in vault sky
secret helm of gods
circumnavigate the ingestible earth
dough ray well under I am
GRAY sky you say
from under so as before below
as video call backs to size comparison jolts
this is how you feel so small
but you are part
tho be am why you gone all alone
this tortured night and bed
under after or like hell you see fair clouds
of the sunsetting sky once again
these things are just spinning without
before through you without you
heavens do not exist in over um void birth
happy birthday and happiness 
circumambiance oh wow wo omn ow

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Aw Hell, too soon

emptying the closets of the rich
to leave bundles of pens on market street

nostalgic johnny appleseed

there was a time I carried nothing with me
found a pencil everyday
on sinking curbs and university streets

I'm repopulating the earth with ink
check the map at 1:05 pm

still uncapped standing there

what eyes looking down
not I's looking around

this is a grassroots revolution
notebooks soaked in rain
running blue lines
red spots
white toilet paper sheets

bygones

swept up by car tires and brooms.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Saturday 1 am

green lollipop on my tongue.

voices. down the night alley

cats ears perked.

a life or two falling two ways

apart. straining eyes in vein

skin. bumps on my wrists.

pink flesh untouched. I feel

out with lashes at the front door

latch. These footsteps dragging

not for here. pins and needles.

static so heavy fog it rains

earlier and now the Shenandoah

burns. smoke from the brush fires

of past. screaming throats and hands

wringing clenched. ears outstretched.

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Microwave Soluble

placed facing out on radio veins
vibrating staccato memes
phallic frontier of the amusement park game
one step ahead and into future grain
eighth of an eighth of an eighth
the retired former consciousness of universal
man-
          kind.
smoked banana peels in oft utilized
alleyway trails
a healthy disdain for poor wretched hands
asleep in crusty subway cars
murdered only when the victim is too
young
           to feel.
           where does the fruit
                                             go?
packed in mush memory
lit for fluid for survival for removal
for concentrated gains
run on solid painted trains through the painted desert night
dropped in public denied reservations
property
               U
                   Us
                        Aye
on high for two to three minutes at a time.

Monday, April 18, 2016

Jesus Christ Resurrects at the End

and we wait
          out beyond the last road sign
on the last road out
          at the edge of the last town

          for gold wreathed fingers
skeletal frames
          reaching down  
to pluck us each by collars up

and we read
          the decayed words
laughing at the strange sounds
          of a language long gone

         with copper coated tongues
rotted teeth
         split on ivory sinks
of the lost outhouses left behind

and we see
          all that has come before
the petty thrills
          of iron and fiber and ore

          through the last eyes
of the last faces
           on the last corporal bodies
in the haunted past.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

More than Running

Had I dented it enough, the front drivers side door socked in by the back fender
of an old Toyota 4x4 flatbed truck Chinoteague Virginia USA in a drug store
parking lot off main street, left screws some other shit snapping around on
sharp turns sudden stops overall it was holding together, even so each time
I open the damn thing I expect it to hit the curb face down, haven't alerted insurance
yet what's the claim window I don't know as soon as possible means a lot of things
none of them vaguer than how I see it, this is the kind of thing you wonder out loud to
yourself when you're coming down and every thought centers itself in the world of
now that you'd been shitting on or purposely forgetting up to the point where your
brain is taking it upon itself to reinsert you into the humanity machine, this had more to
do than running the engine hoping the transmission wouldn't fail, as I've had experience
with only used cars in my life, the kind that meltdown or overheat at the drop of a dime
or quick stop sign stop, all this in my head beside visions robot conveyor belts and
garbage compactors for human skin, what takes precedent is dreams, too all mixed
and unrelated, laugh to yourself a forgotten thought and the car is still there in its
three-dimensional glory, so that you're forced to consider how much was your fault
after all and will you just get your god damn shit togther and fucking handle it already
what the fuck.

I wonder what the situation is with this car with the lights on

chew down on sugar cube nights,
rotting teeth stench and fun-dip air vents,

who pulled up those blinds cockeyed
with the lights on now our whole life displayed?

nobody walks by here anyway, 'least of all
when it's streetlamp dark and the sidewalks cool,

walk. On tuesday night out come the trash cans,
pulled by cursing mouths and slick hands,

wet with micro-bacterial slime. And what, man!
How? that's the sound of tin plastic concrete

scratching on your mind. what of the recycle bin?
That shit just goes out beer bottles and pickle jars

clean. Our accumulated wealth and tummy tuck glut.
I wonder what the situation is with this car with the lights on

down the block? Not sure I've seen that shadow before
god knows if the asshole even lives around here.

Keep an eye on the blank drivers seat,
our windows no longer lock up tight,

you can see the voyuer case the joint, with 100 drawn
shift perfect eyes. Our privacy is obsolete.

Monday, April 11, 2016

...and the floorboards were golden

so that you ran your tongue against them
carving and chipping bone and screw

so that you were forgetful
unable to piece together what had come before

so that you pulled your knees up to your chin
blind to dirt and dust and scruff and tar

so that you took to running knifed edges across grain
drawing up curled veins

so that each needled point penetrated the skin
and left glitters of light in their path

so that with each step the surface gave slighty sinking
marking your footprints your faceprints your palms

so that at night it appeared as it did before
but for the metallic taste

so that even though your outside mildewed with collapse
the inside shone brightly in the sun

Friday, April 8, 2016

Fur

between my eyes and sewer grate
from one life to another the time debt of years apart
the sphere of birth and death;

I am
willed along
through these
spaces

with no say

leaving many hands behind
like
typing fingers in the dark

one key off; 

some sense of unrequited something

some sense of
bitterness;

loss

Kunkle Tanyard

each ignition key turned to start
bare mountain hills
bared tree limbs
tanned faces shaded from sun
reflected off Thompson Creek
Jordan Run
the many hours deepening
south
down the shatter-edged backbone

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

Falls List

far end of 220
north of covington
deep pool blue waters
cascade 80 feet
scramble down boulders
afternoon early spring sun
mist off hollow cave soaking rock
fish undercurrent at feet
cars around the bend above
eyes on the overlook
plunge in from seeing rock
six foot leap scrape bottom
push up toward the surface

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

signed by the famous wino himself

junkie sleeved. Roll up just below the elbow,
innisfree. left to dead in cracked alleyways,
dharmakaya. track mark sky yeilds to blue clouds,
transfiguration. Over 'dobe huts of mexico leather brown,
Deacetylation. shot into desert heavens milky way,
Wujing Zongyao. snowcapped dirt hill pink hued,
Santa Fe. Route 66 north to Chicago towers,
barefooted. Pants roll up just above the ankles.