Love Letters Left Unsaid

Wrote this love letter
eating purple suns,
purple suns like a child painting
grape and I only 5'7
chewing universal power plants
there were three, then four multiplying violet supernova
in foil harmony advertisement outer space,

Ya, take the Green line
I'll take mine forward
or is it forthright to time,
space spoke repititous
meandering life rebirths,

Christ, I can't close my eyes
to two dimensional Oak trees Branches,
Reaching out making sure I seal the wholes holes
my pupils cut in the back-foreground of-
of-- rivers remarkably electric colors,

Hold on- I'll hold on--
Your skinny tanned legs against mine starkly white
short hair fragrant feminine
shield watching eyes to the difference waking,
when you sleep my world losses its only truthful
believer soul.

Torrentially unmade.

On this note, I God, Recreate

This is how we
turn the box universe--al
nature of time
dilated time flowing
outward toward fingers
colors molting parasol
twist it and my chin is
tormented toward pillow flamingos strips
forever sadly
this world is a falsity paradise
I write it.
Chicken scatch.

...

How far away is the past?
Can't remember beyond years

...

The Mexico I dream is
a waste of paper
Shillings, an-
a good gift
lowered

...

What do I write for?
Nothing happens
I don't understand
Illusions are inconsequential ecstacy

...

No ends or birth
dank street snow
like paper poly-color orgasm
It's sad, if I let them know
they're constructs, will
I be forced to live alone
in memorial darkness?

...

Afraid to get up
thirsty, will the
universe lose itself
in porno-lying freckle bloody explosion?

...

We're come by ways
shredding space
outside unreality
I hesitate to admit
I'm the cause,
Let there be Light!

...

I could care loo
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
o
ng
enough to wrap this
never existence in
my memories

What is snow?

But I asked
Human Trust.
Abyss.

...

I wonder if my novels
ever lied
If they're all false then,
I never littered outside...

...

When I find these in my back pocket
In the morning
hours hours
I'll forget it's all false
and live-

...

Did the machines wince
when they birthed us
into terrifying existence,
weeping.

Eastern

Facing East
Prostrate submissive pious
without shoes in the cold, public
unself-conscious in late afternoon
blue darkness of oblivion, spirit
thousand miles thousand lifetimes
rhythmic mat covered ground,
prayer obligation love
Faithful.
I envied him

there few blocks away walking
a kitten crossed gravel road, suffering

I called out-
I knew him once, suffered together
The sky becomes dark with so many memories

So High Up

Suffer to watch the world living,
touch the alleyways that broadcast
my lack of thought, back of fist against forehead
sweating in the cold, sweating out weight
like breath seeping out from under me,
hissing from my lungs emergency brake
UHaul quickly forcing its way into traffic,
grinding out its idiot life on four rubber tires
and metal, screaming yellow stop-
yield- all is emptiness under the spiraling
suns-

Tapping

Can't ya really know anything,
like someone crouched down
low in golden weeds, baked to crispy tasteless
nutritionless poking daggers by the winter sun,
high in the air and staggered
thinking hills roll by toward
whats after us, in the bleary darkness
that, saddened and empty, plays those
very few chords that we all know?

Tap our feet to unconsciously
moving on with dirt and mud and whichever whatever else
anyway marking frayed jeans, really frayed in the mind
without a designer getting fat,
who hears the chords, pretends avoids taps
loves despairs smiles seeing it's all meaningless
All of it fake, and he dies dies for real, not for the cameras
and he forgets about tearing clothes, forgets wearing them blind
tap ignores the calls smiling frays

oooooh can't we ever lying know?

Happy New Years Arkansas

5,000 black birds flying
red wings falling in the streets
cop cars swerving town sanitation trucks weave,
the mayor tugs at his underwear
at the phone at the window anyway
waking early on this apocalyptic morn,
January first the clouds are storms
or sky puppets overcast. ask John.

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