The Last

Gotta high cough
you should see this piece of shit
mistake for a hellhole
400 dollars sunken into a heater
that cannot fabricate heat
leaves me shirtless sweating freezing
sad ache binging for the
crystal night/day or any lost thing,
green pastel paper shreds the light
my out of date cellphone (buried in blankets)
serenade me twice; morning morning mourning sad
already dressed and out, layered
for what? A pittance a glance
where were we? You? Sadness lights flies fires
forgotten tundra cool.
I'm cool, real cool.
In your cold.

The First to Last

Now! I watch for slugs, and bugs, and rain
and slugs? Slugs? In the cold?
Dying spiders dropped corpses
empty in the rain cold damp
slugs? Mistletoe wasted
panel green walls keep out; the cold
bitter sad world dying
with trees or by the trees,
gray with winters, winter bliss
extend from my fingers
heavy haggard loveless mix-n-match
desultory future mansions dystopia

Begin

Oh, Lovely Caress! Oh
the heaters useless Breath.
Love me. singing

Mini-Mini

Light forecast New Years day
Early rain, wino dream
pink lace waiting star
still in baked Earth sky,
my fuchsia iris dove,
we dance moon showers
blink.

tonight on jamestown road and lancer pl

book of poetry written for you
I'd burn it to keep you warm
slender legs in the maryland night
last christmas lights remain
sky is orange-black
purple clouds and purple winds-

when did we sleep this perfect world away?

Sound Visions

The Westminster chimes
and that sound(wordssoundwords)
sad killing time sadly hilarious
is the basis of what I believe we(youmeIwelovingly)
created as an afterthought an accident
and it built a novel in my head, buried deep
you were(are) all there tucked away under
my forgetful musings scribbled in notebooks
seven years old dust covered(new) a
cycle of five permutations repeated- occurring
twice ever hour setting our lost endless lives in
concrete and flesh,  my pen tears at (those)our words

O Lord our God
be thou our guide
that by thy help
no foot may slide,

but why?

new rooms old rooms

I write(approximate) THESE dreams
that drive me mad
                           mad
                                  mad
Kaleidescope visions upside-right
ashes perched...sad-
I'm about to start cupped water over my right eye
burning squinting and afterthoughts.

I fool these dreams to drive me away

and
you

are near.

Riding Home Tonight

S'ready for that little sparkler checker
light windowed city rising sideways
out of the great bustling cracked American highway
system rolling wheels over over north-east, until
a three-fourths circle left turn,
against iron bars and factories where
workers arrive in 
dead morning 1920s style,
takes me right there (here) 30 minutes past midnight,
not a second late, doors open
engine slowed, beneath glassy stars
and sleeping angels, a
transparent winter's glooming

Christmas Snow

Snow on its way,
wine and santa hats and whichever way you
see, really see into flurries
turning over and over,
lights carrying on the chorus,
blinking blinking colors blinking
painting white snow footprints,
breathe in cool breaths and out
fog and smoke-fire, carry on
with my head spinning looking for
you, a shoulder, voices leaping out into the night,
snowy white gray violet night,
christmas songs and bursting.
Amen.

Calling home

She leaves us on the porch
empty lapis sky, underneath
smell of folded flowers drying,
tastes soft pink, raspberry, sorbet,
Its cold, cold wind, the winter
nudging fall, forgetting summer,
loving spring, from the window
call her, across the step,
cloudless, unkept
the gate rests on its hinges, rusts

And What? Now, apologies

It's news to news
to figure I know nothing,
nothing of the world
outside my- imaginary
talk-till-I-can't-remember-when-I-began
abstract far away altered reality
philosophy that I make up
on the go-go-go
because I won't stomach the coffee
jitters and clouds make me laugh out loud
a kind of nonsense-
makes people believe I've got more than rot in my brain
which (isn't) true, 'cause it's all just,
holes up there
miniature holes and holes so large
there's sleeping bugs (giant) bugs
haunting there and snoring,
so fucking loud uncaring,
so's I can barely concentrate on pretending I'm all alive,
and I (want) really could go for some eggs,
an omelete, yellow over the counter, "here we go"
with the ketchup bottle cold and red
bright bright tomato ketchup red next to me,
sweet and hard-caked over that ignore it
disgusting crusted opening,
like the whatever it is leaking from my
liar brain...writing trash, smut, ignorant
lectures burning up into the atmosphere
and
what do I really know,
that's more than anything else?

prayer

These days up on the mount,
one of the mounts surrounding here sick-city-dying-Yell
where's my-
home- slick shoes collar-shirt
out of sight,

age me and evade me and forget me--

more and more-

Pass

I'm no Proust in sunsets or shadow,

I'm a liar,
     cheater,
          lover,
     honest man,
a corpse drinking toasts to the living

pass me by and wave

Salut.

stop the bottles

We're all just empty spinning bottles
still spinning still empty
in the center room,

girls in closets
under rugs
grant birth to you and me and we
and suicides,

the crowds have all but cleared-

untitled

Jack murdered a mouse
and lost(could not find)
understand his faith,
I've walked around the mountain
searching for the righteous path
ignoring the trees
and kicking rocks

apt. seeking

World's on a map
where am I going?
Out there--into the interweaving colors
walking distance needing a car,
yay' deserted, O' home without a HOME-
for, listenlook!- nay- I'm
me homeless by the
no place for thee,
into empty center.
folds.

Let's scan

I've murdered a hundred thousand orange trees
today, logger;
Left stacked one on top of one,
tagged with black ink
face up
and peace in our time
conflict resolution
scholars,
hell like chlorophyll going green in the digital age
don't give a fuck rotten apple,
where's the fir?
rolling up the hill paper printer king,
It's right here dyed pastel pink, blue green
8.5 x 11
and lovely

Christmas

At world's of light
in darkness, dancing under
diamond stars, red panda's
glowing bright with double tails
and welcomes, there animals
huddle silent from the invisible
cold, children laugh,
and wonder at green, red, orange, and blue
flashing like the sky,
across memory, across time,
I'm 5 years old hiding from my father,
mom smiles turned round and round
the trees, I'm holding your hand
warm with chocolate white with
cinnamon, wondering wondering
Where...
and the rain falls,
that kind of rain that isn't bothersome,
but lovely, alive
and the grass crunches under foot,
the pavement becomes noticably
sparkling darkness, 
the cloudy purple sky fills our eyes.

untitled

Decayed in mirror,
hammering back with silent fists,

sleepy world sleep remarks,

gray overtures and balmy house lamps
a golden dandelion,
Unrecognizable reflections
loose my memories,

mouthing words, So

We left earth wonderfully sad together-

Empty,

I've no longer legs to run
run
run.

Sidewalks Looking Sour

got a lot of walking to do
if you're gonna catch up to this
nothing-man that you say exists-
gone opposite the wind, and you're
looking for him without a scent,
past my front porch,
that's a front window
without a yard
and it's a sidewalk on the street,
that I can't even see when
it's sunshine from the east, and
you're hungry from walking
in shoes worn deep with steps-
no food or anything but stale water,
so you pass without bothering
and I think there's you,
looking.

Now

Does it snow in South America?
outside our windows white
and snowball coated meetings
dug deep into the hard cold soil
bugless sleeping
under the mountains
asking,

maybe

Slowly slowly slowly moving

I'll have to choose
my philosophy
from the discarded
slips of paper
hand outs trampled by
lines that stretch on
forever and never existed,
tract marks clotted,
and the out of nowhere snow,
blessed.

Showers

So I moved away,
the shower head's no longer the same,
the water drains differently
around my body
and you're no longer there
wet and waiting and warm
under the pressure
cold yellow tiles.

Heaters

rainy afternoons,
outside her rainy window- and inside
humid, the heater running its own
marathon, trying to kill me,
drown me, take apart
and reorganize behind wet glass,
me, obscured- at a steady pace
dancing, dancing, twisted,
condensed, dancing,
evaporates the walls

Another Lunch meeting

"Good Meeting!"

Now, to return to our separate offices,
to feel self-satisfied facing the sun paneled glass,

"How 'bout lunch?" (we deserve it)

"You know, I've got a few hours."

"(Feeling cultured?) Thai?"

"Huh? (Orientalist)"

"Thai." It's popular and just that rare,

Orientalism!

Don't fret the streets are wet with rain and failure,
sticking out their hands to chase our fortune,
we'll take the taxi one-half-blocks

(to come face to white face)

with

"The decor has such elemental, (elephants)

composition (Buddhas)

design ($$$$)."