The snarler pop of electric shock
is the end of the track so walk
back to the start and trace the hand
prints of transmission lines scarred
across your skin like footprints in sand.
Claymating and creating
worlds in which Gods could appear,
but chose not to
speak and were spoken to
through licked fingertips and bent paperclips.
The snarler pop of electric shock
laid hands along veins and ripped chords
like free falling water against paddle wheel planes.
Transmission lines scarred across your skin
like footprints in sand.
Why are you sad, sad little outlet
spouting warnings or else without
reason a mouth is a doubt well
speaking never spoken to
through fingertips gripping bent paperclips.
The snarler pop of electric shock
like the sounds of sand slashed
through muscle and holes gashed in flash steam
bursts vessels and scars skin
and stops hearts long enough for transmission
Of a dream standing apart
from reason and why come
and the mouth opens and pours forth
a stream of electric knowledge into a shell
too young to understand a heaven or corporeal cell.
The snarler pop of electric shock
to wake at the bottom of a well.
Looks Like Twins
Beneath the surface, there's room for one
but expression insists a home for two.
I try to pull my insides out, but there's not
mass enough to follow through.
We're holding hands, you crush on me
I write sweet notes to you.
I'm dreaming of taking a knife to your face but
there's not mass enough to follow through.
Forgive and forget and move on with life
though gored by anchor flue.
Fingers ask mind to pluck out lying eyes
and there's not mass enough to follow through.
Pulling ribbons of stomach out through lips
like terrified bird wings move.
Trying to drown the other but there's not
mass enough to follow through.
Looking for a way out in
to spill blood red still blue.
Reverse and reveal what I've known to be true
but the mass enough to dispel the doubt continues to elude.
Trail Brake
Turn heads with turn downs
down turned lips below frowns
You live life on the edge so
why park it on the ledge
I thought you had guts, no glory,
no more drinks, whats the story?
No story no sober
still champion red rover
Still balls to the wall
coaster dry for last call
What's next, why I'm flaking?
Vision quest trail braking
Pedal kiss metal when I get home
chemical hits straight to the dome
Soon as they close up here, its on
and you're welcome to come along,
but don't blink too hard
or pause too long cause
I'll be out, down the straight,
and gone.
Sky Fingers Carved Light
Child of the dream collected
poured into a space protected
torn in parts and whole rejected
still in pools of eyes reflected.
Made planes of hands and pilots
bending like space men in flight
amongst sky giants and around
breath taking geoliths born from
weather storms massive enough
to swallow the Earth
a dozen times over and it would be
something to have seen it
instead of to have heard about
the vistas second hand at the
mess hall at school.
Child of the dream collected
poured into a space protected
torn in parts and whole rejected
still in pools of eyes reflected.
The transport ship went down
after taking direct hits from pirates
storming up from the rear and
mining the lanes with all sorts of
armor piercing jetsam and the threat
remains a primary concern
on the highways between planets
not even the inner system patrolmen
trust the intentions of the pilots
who sent out the mayday and
though they are as bad as the pirates
they're the only ones available
to this particular craft.
Say nothing.
Child of the dream collected
poured into a space protected
torn in parts and whole rejected
still in pools of eyes reflected.
A running dogfight amongst the stars
and planar ring batteries of
gas giants fringing things
dense enough to defy vision and
dark enough to eat detection
took it's toll on a hero
who has done things
legendary to survive annihilation and
grown heavy along the way as
gravity contracts and matter
blows colder and farther apart.
Child of the dream collected
poured into a space protected
torn in parts and whole rejected
still in pools of eyes reflected.
On the edge of shift and
shifting space beneath peace and
pieces of voided space
a tied tie and buttons and
pleats and mug and paper seas and
whorls of printed grain and
creased face, one hand follows another
triangle nosed plane across
parking lot backed window pane and
growing tough and growing up
for a scant few seconds
forget the price they named.
Child of the dream collected
poured into a space protected
torn in parts and whole rejected
still in pools of eyes reflected.
Burning Man
Fingers in the gears and learning what it takes
to understand the architecture
down to where each nail is placed.
I'm starting to wonder in the dusk
at the fringe of childhood's end
if you came with me to overlook hill
would the city lights still count us friends
would carefully laid cable work
keep the bridge aright
or would time take its indiscriminate torch
and leave us ashes by daylight.
Fingers in the gears and learning what it takes
to understand the architecture
down to where each joint is faced.
Though you and I have ridden the sky
like a broad backed beast
you're bailing from the power dive
and the building dam of heat.
Tandem or solo, I want less to care,
but reason keeps ticking like a clock
before a suicide bomb's white flare
you've sense enough not to watch.
Fingers in the gears and learning what it takes
to understand the architecture
down to error's marginal bit of space.
Turning on all senses to detect the rift,
the spread of flame from planned losses
to neighboring homes and hostages.
Somewhere there I see the costs,
and I know something should click
I know the broken ground and stones
should mean the obvious,
but I can't see the cemetery
as more than trophy bones
and I'm tearing on through time and space
albeit alone.
Fingers in the gears and breaking
doing what it takes to bleed and build
upon the foundation of the human race.
Come Unsummed
Stumbled in our rain dropped ways
through clouds and heat and fog
that banked like river moss
on broken logs I come to rest in phase
and breath in the grasses of the back yard.
Ahead of me are the spring time shoots
dressing the rusting fence and you
cat like assume a similar pose on stump
having crossed equally breathless miles
in wilds at least as tough.
My eyes run to read your face
and the places you have been,
you count my history likewise in
the features missing since our gazes touched
upon the opposite sides of the brush.
I don't know the lick or taste of
the fire that drives your heart, but
resting, us both, haunches to the ground,
we see most parts of everything we know
began in the seat of niches found.
Tail Wind
My hand in yours.
My hand in yours.
And the ground coming up.
And the water on the ground.
The water deep enough to drown.
And landing why.
And landing why.
All the talk of the ease of flight.
Weightless soothing dueling lies.
A spooling hatred for lidded eyes.
The weight of Fall
the fall of weightlessness
burns seasons turns all of it
into dreams of things electric
gone past in gut wrenched fits.
My hand in yours.
My hand in yours.
Dreams beating hard at cabin doors.
The ground came up to the sky's shores
and through me you us divided and newborn.
And landing why.
And landing why.
Eyes still held fast unto a sky.
A wheeling sprawling massive call
to reach and break and caterwaul.
Skip Tractor Movement
A certain weight of a thing so less
a rivet blown through eye and flesh.
The midnight die is often cast
to win a future from the past,
but motion is all relative
and around the painted bone
it's the world that spins.
A certain weight of a thing so less
a rivet blown through eye and flesh.
The turn of a chin to a shoulder
in the air habituated to grow colder
and the thickness of the sea
to breath the effort forces in
and takes another look for the sane.
A certain weight of a thing so less
a rivet blown through eye and flesh.
All is sawn apart from what's seen
and the terror tells the heart to dream
to feel the might and take the care
to cross the sights and burn the hair
to look one time and stare again.
A certain weight of a thing so less
a rivet blown through eye and flesh.
The union held of one event
bent in on itself through a hole rent
in rage of science and atom mauled
of sense and hell and lighthouse fall
of quake and guess and gnashing teeth
the rise and creep of the memory thief.
A certain weight of a thing so less
a rivet blown through eye and flesh.
Liberty
A body blew across the land
we waved and flew banners
from hills of sand
we built a stadium
and forged new rods
we danced the days
and blew the gods
we caught the rays
and booked new odds
and somewhere inside that body grew
a taste for me
and a drop of you
and the parade came next
for the fare and the fans
and followed that body across the land
and we waved and more banners
shined in trust
before came the first of
the threads of dust.
