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

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.

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.

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.

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

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