Saturday, January 26, 2013

A spell of waking

We have entered hungrily
into the final phase condition,
our armor thin, ignorant, glossy,
in 100 years there'll be nothing but
victory and starving patriots--
little bloated child patriots--howling
before the king's hairless legs,
100 years ago it was the same
image fetish,

for those who'll sleep through it
we have reserved a seat beneath the glowing sun
acronyms that you worshiped
all your living lives,

feel free to thank the drone
clumsy-bots closing in,
feel free to sweeten up and

"We are the legion
the brain lesion
the storming lie
feast on our words
our works
bloat, love, obey"

on repeat on head phone karma
there's special words
forming ideas building submission
constructing time,

It's a jigsaw puzzle fuck,
if you think truth is attainable
you'll end up lost within somewhere
scarred on the cult blaxk other-side
and these ink blots will never find
you 26 letters rearranged
sinking within the hologram
phantom, the grand step-ladder,
as a way out and above,
into the mess, drunk to the bliss,
this can be read forwards or back.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Voices kisses voices on time

the disembodied voice
shuffles me place to place
not always sounding the same
but never bodied never solid
repeating the same idiot ideology
in different words on blue loudspeaker
screens that it repeated even then
a million times before when first we met,
untold lifetimes ago and my
brain is so tired I can't even
suffer up the energy to think
about thinking about when and where...

I've only got the time to wait in line
struggle up the steps
and find my seat under the green
lit lamps
before I'm late

Wednesday, January 16, 2013


When she serves ya
fish&chips (no beer late
beer ticking bar espresso spilt beer)
ya better just go with it
and drain it halfway when it
finally makes it to your table
accented with scrambled english
nervously spoken under the
tyranny of submissive live
guitar strings--

let it go-- or you won't know
which popular song's been

Language disrupts the time
stream, it's like a transparent balloon
eating an elephant,

She's walking in some other
world of malted smiles,
I'm late into the night and
business is already up and running

Wednesday, January 9, 2013


I'm at breakfast
searching beneath me on the
pants covered floor
for my pants crumbled
up and buried.
I have pants on but no legs. I catch a
glimpse of the dirty river. The
children are playing in the river,
but I don't know any of them. I'm
not hungry either. I have places to go
but need that pair of pants
that aren't extra. They're the only
ones I'd dare cross the river with.
Who knows what's down there.

Maybe the children do
but by the time I find what
I'm looking for (if I ever do)
they're all gone home somewhere

Sunday, January 6, 2013

My Zoo

At my zoo I make all the animals beg
and I starve them for some reasons
I wrote down erased and forgot
from the aquarium tanks I eat all
the fish I can before I wait for
the cancer to take the rest
there's enough DDT in the fluoride
for a million succeeding generations
to succeed on but I wipe them out
and buy new ones so the new ones
can die hopefully that same fucking way--be
happy paphy yaphp happy HAPPY
it's a children's book it's a walk
the way of the world wild
wild world o' happening only
at my zoo I keep the walls uptight
I make sure the barbs are facing in
I kiss all the prisoners good night.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

If you can decipher this we're married already

out in Oklahoma okie blue plains of American
grassland fatland cows mooing to the milky
setting sun of midwest time--
a test and the paper moves
gurgles--marches into the marching distance
toward thirsting
MISSILES or APOCalypseS of
hourly doom coming each hour
counting each hour on
branches missing arms as no branches
would venture-----
-----galloping from the distance to
the foreground an underground,
a narration--

tweed jacket, fedora cap
get it, he did and he did
it's two men
standing single file
astride death's horse
no death it-self
upon death ugly cattle head

the little girls that love them
write little love poems that, little, begin--

a piano on gory blue shores
where no river goes and
black hats
an age--
nobody knows

already they're here--

"Git it outtar space," Kenneth rockets
on to the deck of the ship shit,
to Braun's jackhammering while sipping
coffee, "Git it outta spacer
and let me flip the
switch that goes--," Kenneth goes
until the boats off gray and rocking
in the shredded green
of the heartland we've well forgotten's there,

"We lost--oh but we're lost,
how can it be, I put the cabin
together barehanded, just like
your directions say--" Braun
barehandedly laments (sarcastically?)

--"but it's finished!" they finish
together, taking turns as captain, second mate, steward, cook, gunner, oar-er, smasher,
basher, dancer, crasher, musician, sleeper, muse, drunk, writer, captain, general, admiral, second hand, rower, captain, captain, captain,

there's a million hands shaking in front of them
a million bombs blasting below them a million thoughts
thinking before them thinking it's thinking keeps them afloat
but it ain't see, it's floating keeps them thinking they're afloat or
the sound of a million hands basket weaving,

"Higher now or we'll hit the clouds...!" either of them say--one's got
finger-less gloves, the other wine, the other wine and the other
shoe's shined--O shined with finger-less gloves under the twisting
acorn trees apple blossoms cherry bark fissure, "Keep it on the sun,"
Braun, now captain, plans, "turn out for dinner you swine!" Kenneth roars
like the cooks of all old ghost ships roar "and if anything at all makes sense
you'll all go blind blind blind blind har har har--" and he slops the slop with the joy of slop
on all the clean white plates

"don't forget the key limes in a chant on the ocean-less
oceans of chime"--and the musicians kick in with
the lead on the first line and the sun was pink raspberries over the under clouds
as they say, and the sailing behemoth cut through, and the boys ate a hearty meal
from the cook about to be first mate and the captain about cleaning the latrine--

the merry-go-gg-go-go-round boat of the same name
"Set'ahr a'course!" neither yelled, "for starry shores
and apple trees! O' set a course for snow and berries and cosmic bees!" cleaning
captaining scrubbing ordering, killing, writing, talking singing whistling being, finishing,
IMAGES and skies
sorely known!

All aboard--the steamer RODMAN U.S.S

making all LO-CAL StopS."

and the quaking eternal and expanding universe shook to its oldest black hole super nova bones--

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Tale of the Horses Breathing

The sentry scrolled down
the addled walls
to the glowing line--
glowing exasperated line
of exasperation--on the eve
marking deceleration day,
to be sure he checking the clouds?
well, there's that, they looked just right
and he walked slowly
over it under it? before it
why to it, and it was all that there was
in the circumscribed hall of
everything-ness that could be
fit in--which wasn't much--but
the concrete was not thick, at least not
as thick as the stone or steel or smiles,
so much air figured a way in,

he dotted the e's with the horses hoof
as he was told, as he had come to do,
and rode on down the road openly mourning
acceleration truth becoming war beating
plagues happy man rejoiced in poverty,
he felt it in his bowls the great cause,
the only way--

and finding the perfect tree
he bent over holding his guts upright

he needed to shit.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013


They say it dilutes in water
red specks of immortality
gone awry gone down gone
under piping gone mad mind
blurred in alcohol fireworks
and where's the tub that you
can barely see or the toilet
beside you--the drain--I can read the phantom
strands boiling to the surface
I can understand I can't understand
the bass meandering pounding plodding,


Remembering how it's like to faint--
or how heaven vibrates
at the frequency of angelic language
like harps on forever clouds--
but it's all where it is and where
it ain't and where what fuck where--

I hope I wake to see tomorrow.