Wednesday, April 27, 2011

a violent anachronism

Har har crippled ark
me Blakian love like
craggy rock teetering rock
starve us to the bitter seas
call doves shit rain melds

I'm incoherent
abstract painting (frenchie)
thick waves of oil paint
and smell of turpentine


I brush your slender hips,

O they're gusts o' wind
in purple streaking hell
made altered reality
on canvas,
a vision-

and it's worthless to write this poem (while I write it)
with maggots fill my mouth (in brown ground dirt)
and paintings will rot and rust (in warehouse art museums),
and I'll age and wrinkle and forget and die
leaving disembodied words to be forgiven by
clean servers seeking new spaces deleting unreadable text;

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Dream B

I'm sitting precarious on slim wooden dock boards
fevered head under pillow dreamy like deep green water
rushing displaced, there's unearthly whale turning starboard
black with white marks and looking like heaven crashing,
I'm wondering how all life is moving sleeping, tide rising
should be under, under; cold belching nothingness,
It's telling me, I can reach out touch it's breaching skin,
It's god on earth and I'm leaping still, it's passed with
waterfall one thousand feet, no bottom to the sea
only green abyss sucking at my feet and splintered hands

Friday, April 22, 2011

Interviews and Interviews

get bus to New York
the subway leaves 27th St goooooooin
uptown 42nd (old den of fairies stalking sailors
park bench and night time wine)
off at times square and on the (7)
Grand Central's next (still on 42)
couple blocks to the hudson on foot
FDR drive/Warehouse
change of shoes (no hat;forgot tie)
back out half-hour lapse--
won'dring how my mind
rushes off on its own, do I scratch my face?
cross my arms? Hand's in pocket?
I'm hyper-normal or something
I'm not sweating, walk the eight blocks to 9th
cause to 31st is my bus- supposedly
it's two hours late, I need this bitch complaining behind me
for sure-
but it's here, engine roaring ignoring
the jacket I zipped up an hour ago,
I stare pretty hard, but acquiesce to it's wheels
they'll take me home (o'er 95) to
just miss Joe's tuna salad,
and the house smells like I'm tired-
I change.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Dreams A

If she wants these turkeys boiling morbid
from now on she's gonna have to drop this
poison herself, pock marked day-glo lime
melting the ground in sick greens sucking earth grass bubble shit
all for some BBQ video game fantasy
I'm stepping over thousands (some so small and colorful)
outside their sturdy terrible cage reflections, why can't we
just take some bullets while my vomit
continues to flow deep dark forest colors, I'm soaked

If you can make sense of this it's for you

There were woods, a forest in this dream
I had rushing through when a murderous eye
peering from unseen eons broke my stride
bounding down church stairs (I was,
                                            not the eye,
                                            it was implanted in my
                                            memory or the background,
took one step, then three
I lost your face, those starry eyes
we held some dark secret, huh? Right,
in a way I recall, like blood as I kneel
above my sister on Nana's stoop
                                             (It was so red)
Only you would know memories
that pour from my mind drowning
I rip at them one by one, stretching
to get to that core, gooky and all gobbled up,
pulling branches when I hit the door
the air is like it's not even there, when you think about it--
like it never cares, just remains invisible watching us fall,
sound is a vacuum too in my little dream space
that seemingly insanely spans my mind (A ticking bomb
                                                           you love, and listen
Alarms buuudooop dooo daaah kitch baaaa
preloaded LG nightmare rescue groggy,
maroon curtains ha ha-ing at me 12:30pm
they block out the day the sun the day really do
Hold me, in my dream curse
in this aging life smiling
kiss my reveries and I'll love you
like I always have
as we whiiiiiiiiir whiiiiir whiiiiiiiiiir
with spinning dizzy earth


I smell mango on my hands
pins-n-needle fingers tapping remote control rubber,
and ages ago the Dutch thought
these things and put those villagers to work
probably killing them, or in the very,
historically correct, least hastened their trek
to afterlives of their own creation (volition)
Which is why I don't question your existence God--
I welcome it, in the brawling imaginary sky balling home
tears and mana and hellfire
and when I look back you turn my wife to salt pillar
in a way so the Dutch guy over there swipes
his finger a taste and wishes it was sugar ha

Sunday, April 17, 2011


don't cha know the rain's got this street all closed off
and this cops got Kevin Arnold innocence pouting
torrentially on dark features in the night getting later,
the train bridge arching through time stamped in place
on old suburban roads off the highway rumbling center,
my feet damp from running few blocks to car
20 minutes or so ago and two detours, my heart heavy
missing something I can't place in the leaning hours toward daylight,
the bed groans, my head sinks, I think of sleep, love,
the windows streak, I move toward them perpetually,
I miss the turn and the street rises on long ago primordial hills
and I'm sure some dinosaurs or the ice age, I tap the wheel
so the cd skips, thin opening in window forgets the song,
I lose the sound
and hey, I'm not sure I was ever listening

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Disappears just white enough

Hey, if I cover up my shirt (bright Orange)
no one could see (but it's cold or it seems to be)
clear and wispy cloud sky disappears just white enough
to obscure god, like my glass (I washed) only to pour
some milk, (it's neverending that cycle of human understanding;
it has to be washed/someone ought to wash it/drink it) left in
metal tasting gray sink to wash and rail on stainless steal,
a dog yelps under clever powder blue somewheres past the dryer pipes
and unused chimney grave yards, I hope he's okay invisible...
I change and remnants remain looking up at me, bubbling,
thoughtless-- I'll take a page from the book,
look it over, plaster it on the sky wall, the deep horizon pillowman,
the America that keeps on rolling, the text that reads like water,
silently waking toward better mornings

Tuesday, April 12, 2011


House takes on
warmth of dinner
tip-toeing in from kitchen,
scent and oven beat against
rain streaked windows
of gray outside,
and who is God but a little girl
returned home from school?
In my joy-misery earthly reverie
uncontrolled I ask--
Where is my mother- who?
preparing dinner highways away
anyways, smile for her and dress up,
wait for steak (london broil), sweet potato,
brussel sprouts, bread, and wine--
A misfit refugee little family
settled down to eat
where cheers in clear glass
safe from hateful stars,
a red moon titan world


Standing outside library on hustle to-and-fro and north-south street she
thinks of other libraries in the cold elsewhere biting her lip, flipping her finger
like lighter at hem of skirt black against slender tan legs, 
doors stare back, cold reflections protect shelves and novels, old women
shuffle, speaking, ignore; a boredom,
a closed library-verse multiplied space with infinite doorway entrance,
outside the flowers grow and the tv's blaze and language dies,

If I'd hold her in my arms and she'd cry
I could forgive my dried up voice
And she’d likely sing
“Besides—they’re only plastic coated,”
(forgetting her overdue books)

Houses fixed by roadside stare

The alleys reach that parallel nowhere
Bleeding left to right one-way dimensions,
There families wait and eat and wait
Watching from protruding tri-window ledges
my olive corduroy pants and Mao cap
passing by, labored by maybe noticeable limp
and slouched posture (I’ll have to fix- sometime)
and no destination but absent-minded wonder
under yellowing sky weary blue cloud cluster dusk 

Like Fractured Happiness

And like fractured knife impurity
It ever widens, ceaseless sky
Rotated upside down, so I’m
Holding my breath or vomit,
Pretty fairy lithely drowns us believers,
Though we’re the only ones
Massed and twirling at dawn
Inside twisted city ruins, walls
Show brick cracked and red brown
Under plaster that takes cue from rough seas,
And beware the rip-tide at night,
Undertow doing that silly harmless
Dance, harmless until skies grow blue eternity
Sparkle imageless and die,

Like where are the stars that guide us?

A childlike question I’m prone to ask
But with illimitable vast consequences
That I mean to mean but
Meaning much more than my words can gather,
Old owl in tree miles away spotting prey, inland—
Ignore my foamy hand and tight brow, my tattered hair
And fading youth—

Cars Pass/Lazy Ears

Almost off and crashing
When I hear sound of rolling tires passing by,
Weighted pavement holds above
Streaking subway earthquake trains
Creaking dent metal hum vibration,
Signal dirty and gray labored breath
To outstretched arms and falling bronze sun,
Pull your window shade in the afternoon glow
Exchange it for environmentally safe bulbs twisted
in caring fa├žade, lightening world snake coils under our nose-

And only
faded obscure signs
Point our way—

Hidden in sleep

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

the sound, the emptiness, the rain

Very nearly lost, sweet April rain reminds me
When I’m a child waiting out the storm to land a foot
Beyond puddle cratered bleary window outdoor apocalypse,
Chhhhhhhhhh chhhhhhhhhhhh chhhhhhhhhhhh
Tuh tuh tuh tuh titititit tuh chhhhhhhh
Silent umbrella extended human consciousness ponder
Dripping pregnant cloud impressionist highlights
On buildings across the city weighted indiscriminately, lonely—
The scars make infants of our happiness, frame our shadows crying.

And for all the dying

I’ve forged a prophesy of
My generation in a thousand deaths
Bridging infinity, I choke on blood
A burning transparent open sore
On roof of mouth I’ve been numb
In tree shaped window laying on gray
Frayed loving couch upright standing,
We talk like robots gone to slaughter, no?
I loved you too, in different lives
All ending in some endless timeless death
If I could scratch my eyes,
If I could lie still a-
Where, ah, where is world shatter light binge-
I, effortlessly need all our deaths, our life,
Come so far into forever and blinked
I cried on floor, million years yearning for you,
Tripping on time, lost myself to our eternal struggle
For nothing, of nothing, from nothing,
Wait for me, I can find you— grown old-
You’ll see me aged, wrinkled hands
dreamy, amnesiac, hey I only promise
So far— so far—while we’re gone-

And the sky to me—
Whisssssssssss shhhhhhhhiiiiiiiii hiiiiiiisssssssss
Whiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrr a laughing Vishnu god—
Ha ha muh ha ha hee hah ha—

Cars rush lightening fast- prescient—
Encased in downstream floating canal current,
Anyway, So words can meander and bleed, well
I’ve lived enough lives, and I’m weary—

So sleep until I wake with you a kiss
That rots the stars little dollhouse stars
Empty room with bodies limp- oh pretty picture
Your smile—

And back to, somewhat now, a story
Of mute lovely minds crammed with letters and
Keys—on screens like thought dancing-
Were she only a reflection I could release
Like black hole gravity to the void—
An angel grown old— how?
We question a god who laughs joyfully—

Ah ha starry hellfire anonymous,
All of every one of us blessed
By passing futures I’ve seen and loved-
Placed sign and cross, we carry to Golgotha
Our skulls at his feet the jester mammon
Who lies to follow, who knows?— to exist—

It’s rational.

I want to nudge my eye to find it, where my face jolted—adult and singular,
beard grown heavy, curious—wages unfamiliar war on rushing giants
rock and gas and molten existing to burn and die—
like us, encoded. Beautiful in empty space. in bright loneliness.

Living gods of flesh and sorrow—

Untold angel heretics falling from heavens breast—

I envy, love, you all.

Monday, April 4, 2011


I hear they grow the lemons here
on trees (stretching/labored) tuned to
major star collision
burnt brown dwarf smile
on 20th and snaking green elevated
highway road cosmic belt going east-west (infinitely)
to ocean towns sleepy and Harrisburg squat buildings
peddling their boring roofs
out behind big Pennsylvania
evergreen constellations,
each sip draining more--

I've fifteen dollars and twenty-three cents worth of groceries
and a few odd blocks to walk
Broad Street at orange night
blessed blue by moony god
spring distance

Saturday, April 2, 2011

My kiss goodbye

Better to be devoured by the wolf then by the fleas
a german proverb proverbs at me from miles of years away,
cold long Atlantic ocean miles, printed black on white bookmark,
I've 3 bookmarks all for one book- on same page-
skinny little wolf standing on hind legs dirty and hungry,
where Jack runs from fame to Big Sur to alcohol to the sea--
asking us not to follow but we do,
like beatniks of old who grew up
to fuck us with genetically engineered seeds
and tall buildings that scorch the sky and city streets--

outside cold door sleeping
the air hangs hail heavy beating frozen ground
crack khish kish hiss tsk tsk kishk tsk
heavy on car windshield rush hour horror,

if that makes any sense
but to me, alone by night light
computer screen, typing in silence
cats somehow 12 years old now (how?)
serenely sleeping like only a cat can
in the dead of feverish night ageless hours
before morning,

soundless it hurt my ears

but please
don't go--
I've not written for you---

enough, my voice

like will o' wisp into eternal sadness
intangibly beautifully silent