the unreliable forge/ an easy bake oven

the cake is finished when electrified. wine toasts
over inky coals
                          from which is used to write names.
were they to find the remnants of the book
rats would drown in the crumbs. eat gray pages.
make the clouds look like sky starting at the last
edges.
            burnt to gradient images left
in church phases. the cross of stainless
steel. stained glass partitions.
the cake is edible when digested as is
the masses. the physical equation of
remorse. ending in remittance. the seven foot
thick ocean of icing.
                                  the terror of sand
as the waves of sugar hit the shore. the deafening
bluster of wind chimes.     the binding washing
out the ill heated oven. heaving
heaving retching. rewarding the starved and
the sated.

147 Twinkle

typing in strange, exotic places,
I have yet to discover the algorithm,
a destiny in digital immortality,
tho the white page of death has blinked many times
and pulled from me pieces of ancient signs,
arranged in blue-lined characters,
exhumed from burials along fiber-optic lay lines.

The Order of the Shell

the order is the pearl of the world

chewed at consumption
            swallowed at birth
       by the void

by hand the order is given

yellow is the dance we've become

hand is the act of clapping
                  --without--from within--
            a job done well

a jellyfish angel rising from dank dark seas
             
             dressed with halos
                     adorned in halos

golden in the envelope passed through time

      traveled for no destination
   left with trail of blood
buried in the heart of the teeth tearing out

the liver is coughing phlegm

begun is a narrow age
                  a monsoon age
         fit between the canyon rocks
           scored by floods
               carrying pure souls away
    to be reborn as anamorphic pines
       shattered stone
                  fresh muddied feet
         pure crystal river

the pearl is the oyster forgotten of its shell

Social Currency

no one utilizes the people they know efficiently;
gather them up and stand them in a line,
shuffle them at random and offer them a number
that will be easier to remember than their name;
place them in little factories; with little windows; big walls;
make sure the doors are hermetically sealed,
watch them go to work; sending all that love down the line,
there you will reap the rewards of true friendship;
within a box, a bow wrapped and tied on top,
place the most valuable  commodities,
pack the luxuries with bubble wrap, this is where you
ensure the dividends are made; this is where you divide
the number of people by the number of their importance;
this is how you utilize your resources effectively.

Windows and Walls

each barrier must in its own way support the facade,
the tiniest of cracks, openings, must be filled,
there is no room for mistake, serious business,
if a bit of what's outside gets in, containment will be breached,
once again, serious business, what's at stake,
that's for me to say, not to think about,
just know that we have your best interests at heart,
and if productivity can be increased? a bonus,
you are part of something real and that must be protected,
when you believe in people first the love really comes through
in the product.

Finks (Reading for the Binnacle)

Finks (also for the Binnacle)

Second poem for the lit journal Binnacle
dedicated to Old Bulls centennial+2

Poster USA

lil' ruddy face.
flush checks          doe eyed.
shock of blond hair     scout cap.
american child     androgynous
complexion.

uncle sam sleeve     cufflinked.
imperial hand     slapped over lil' mouth.
deep red hand.
thick red hand     red white & blue.
open palmed     roughly
size of your child's skull
written--

--not whispered--not
spoken--not said--

hard black font     bold capital letters

SILENCE MEANS SECURITY.

Fugitive

Here
          huddled in and blending
with coffee shop stools

four o clock is an hour before I should be free

windows play at being walls
everyone
                can look in
                upon my caged
                stare

(there are many operatives here)

         (Many from which to steer clear)
             (believe me)

glances they cast sidelong from lip
of coffee mug
                        mark my destination
place
time
name
character
MO

they remember my face
one I'm wearing today
pixelated
contour graphed on hand held meme

(they're out to get me)
(cliched)

out to wrestle from me
the feeling
                  that
                     I
                should
                    be
                   free

when sick one should be safely stowed away
(back home)

but you're here
              you're here
      you're here
               how come?

you care to explain this, young man [NAME]?

--they cinch the handcuffs on
              --do you care to explain they lock the cell
          --how that came to be? you incriminate yourself

the difference

That man is me but nobody knows me

I'm not content in my house locked up but here I am
anyway

3 floors up 3 more floors below ground

think of all the bones stuck in cement

of many many buildings on each
street

many sidewalks underneath

That voice is me but nobody knows me

I'm not able to lead by my words or by my
hand

3 words into the microphone 3 words come echo back

think of all the years left as nothing behind you

of many many thoughts come to
naught

many thoughts not worth it

That body is me but nobody knows me

I'm not able to pull the trees from out the grip of dying
cars

more metal mind than stem

think of all the fields with low lying grass

of many many little hearts meant for
roadkill

many more will cower alone

That mind is me but nobody knows me

I'm not willing to let go of my blood red
release

3 knives to the back before 3 get me on the street

think of all the pain we can cause

many many acts of retribution
earned

many more to come

That man is me but nobody knows me

Between Finger and Mountain

matcha mix of waterfall springs
                                           green from my cup

     the coming days melt like algeaic glacial springs

valleys carved
                        and spun from what had ever been
     mountains of never summer rolling thunder rain

above the tree line the clothesline of root wire fall

ranging boulders smothered and scalded
                                                                  by driving wind
     below the crawling scarred bellies
plastic wrap and tuperware joints

the plastic castles and the reached for sky.

Sing-a-Long

go away and go away and
hang your sinking skin

I am looking for many other places
have never looked within

go away and go away and
hang your sulking skulls

on coat racks made of pearl white bones
and closets packed dark with stone

come away and come away and
hang your lonely hand

there's only one of me that can't
and only you who can

come away and go away and
disappear your head

they've found the me that wouldn't fit
and have eaten you instead

Lamb

you there
with the basket,
slinking in alleyways
between siren
street lights

turn your head to this unfeeling world

there's no reason
to do what we do
to have to do what you've done
go on home
rest your eyes

we've come this far for fields of green
wasted all our trees
killed all your sisters brothers mothers we

don't hide your face
under florescent bulbs
I know who you are
but I won't out you

we are both on the lam
you turning the corner
me here
immobile
silent

waiting to be slaughtered.

How our oil flows

dump that sewage over here
I'll make a meme about it
you'll see how the rivers flow
rainbow colored and smog bathed
imagine the scarecrows cooing
sunflowers twin faced and blue
beneath their hangman feet
mountains dry as deserts
in the known distant suburb land
evergreens ever brown mud
until they're cut down
dragged by their legs
when nothing grows nothing grows
no one will know in 20 years
where our water went
how our oil flows
what was dying
what needed to be killed.

This doesn't mean a thing if she didn't read my words

can you know
     what we mean
          what's being told
          to
          you
kid, grasp at whatever
     thread we desire
     pop
           pip
                prize
it's not that simple
      A B C D E
is
all the
above
          multiple choice
          illusions
of
none noticeable
truth
          I've brought
you the box
to feed
the kneading cat
     a perm-
a-
nent fix
scorched earth
job application
          fantasy
mix-
mash-mash-
up
standardized death
test
one dominant
recursive perception
     pan-
op-
ticon
motion
informs
          belief
action
     ritual
          routine
prison magic
chaos
chain gang
magic
     think
the
     thoughts
          do
          as
          you
          art
as
I
have
told
you are unique
pick the
shapes
colors
ideas
          proceed
process
promote
protect
          achieve
physical
perfection
professional
possession
          retire
the farms in heaven await
your seed
to
     salt
          the
               earth

A short history of rivers

hungry like a hostage
chew on bones,
live white human bone,
kind sunk deep in crypts,
raided out sulky tombs,
heavy and moss covered
thoughts,
bones under the current
weighted down by rocks,
weathered
smooth by a thousand
years of sloth,
starving,
bite down on flesh,
draw blood like words,
dilutes to be read,
jagged lines,
scrawled by skinless hands,
held in place,
sedimentary violence,
irremediable.

whatever you do...don't follow me

name you're reading
isn't real,
it's not serious,
but you might be
put off by irreverent
postings and troll-
under-bridges-under-
comments-syndrome,
there's no method,
merely dissenting viewpoints,
no crusade, random
photoshopped images of
a man you've never met,
a life you've never led,
I'm not here to give you of myself,
nor do I care what you think of me,
I'm a square box on a white
background, blue bannered screen,
hitting enter, scrolling down,
copy/pasting lies,
conjuring false realities
for the social media stage.

Candy Store

my teeth are
falling apart

pockets and holes
nooks and crannies
smell of black oil mucus
dipped and sparkling
candy shell
high fructose corn syrup
ladled into open wounds
ghastly surfaces
hidden beneath reddened
gums

there's decay slipping
into my thoughts
an aching head
strange dreams on
white powdered
medication
pills dissolving
in candied mush

my sense of self
is being remade.

The Revelation

Harrington left
the number for
Doctor Modesto
on my orange desk
left his digits by the
front door,

car headlights
rotate like lighthouse
light on cul-de-sac streets,
(any you can think of)

this house needs work
off the alleyway score,
scene is incidental,
irrational, broken at its core,

pamphlet costs us 99¢
to print, $1.50 to
incinerate,

that sticky tar in your lungs?
that old rotten tooth taste?

that's paper 50 years past due
marked by expiration dates,
Shit, it's cancer causing, too?

"just a bonus, school children"
says the blue suited, green-eyed
headmaster, "a super-sized plan,"

our end that's the beginning,
one sickly charles atlas crusade,
(we care about mother earth going forward)
but must be repaid!

and he ate the whole thing
in less than 10 pages.

*choke*

It's been two--three weeks...

He rocks back and forth
by the curb's edge
hands clasped on his knees,
big slack jawed grin
under eyes like a blue sky,

"you know they're
injecting them with that
virus there, the C-D-C!" he goes,
"that's how they do it, you'll
see, we'll be hearing about it,
you know, the highways
are like a wall in Houston
(he shows 6 fingers) they got
a wall 6 miles--yeah--6 miles
and another 12 (he shows 10
then two more finger) miles
out--they're boxing us in!"

a guy drops some change
in his cup moving out from
behind me so I can't get a look
except for his back and the
impression of a grey tailored suit,

"you watch yourself," he waves,
"they don't want us to think!"

You too, I tell him
turning to go,
I take a look back
after I cross the street,
he's rocking back and forth
still, one hand on his knee
the other waving an old dixie cup,

there's a cop at the corner opposite,
a squad car rolling down the block,
somebody absently touches
the handle of a gun,
crowds of blank faces
multitudes of empty eyes,
the next day I pass by,
he's no longer there,
replaced by white sign outlined
in red:

"No parking 10/17 for street cleaning"

So, this is where we've ended up?

these halls are rare everyday halls
wielding pitchfork meant to stick
in our backs,
                     they draw hot, pink blood,
birth flashes and implant false memories.

this is all you
will ever be
it has been
decided.

be quick on your feet,
we operate in pockets of
immateriality drowning
each moment,

"society is dependent on
ego-protection," she
said to me, as she walked
off the platform into
oncoming trains,

the officer at the scene
told me not to think too
much about it, grasping
my wrist, doctors offered
me pills, wrote my
visions down before
devouring them.

I wiped my shoes at the front door,
faint sounds and echoes in the red brick
alleyway adjacent,
                              murmurs without time or place,
 crumpled soldiers returning from imaginary wars.