Christmas Song 2

Dashing through the snow.

Gloves on, water soaking through.

Rushing through the snow.

I can jump from the porch farther than you

and belly flop chin first, flakes flashing.

Eyelashes frosty as hell

and a good hat on. I will put lights up.

Watch the sun go down.

An alignment of the planets in our system.

The third star on the right:

"you have reached your destination."

6 billion times over

one day.  To be lucky.  Wear a snow suit and 

mind the rust.  I can nail a snow ball to the wall

from 30 yards out.

A scarf is also recommended,

but ya don't have to bring one if ya don't feel like it.

I may hum the Ode to Joy 

when I dust your hip off

after tackling you,

don't mind me or the smoke coming off my tail.

Snow angels beside you.

Laughing all the way.  Snow flakes stilled

on my lashes

Christmas Song

Power chords and Christmas lights.
Power cords and Christmas lights.

A fire and a tall boy.
Mistletoe and a fat man.

A hat with a bobber and
a hook to see the way through

to a new year.  Ferocious and ferrous.
Black ice and good traction and a chain or two.

I am coming over.
Straight to the North pole to

punch you in your monkey face
you rat bastard.

Cinnamon pine cones
and all of that.

Punkin head and
candy canings.

And a sock to hang over the fire.
Chestnuts roasting and meat on the metal.

Charred over rare.
And smoke down the whistle.

Caroling.  Snow and the moon and the sun
to push you blind.

Are You My Mommy?

Look for answers and we will give you rush.  Full on the face.  Full b l u s h.  It's very unpleasant.  It's very taken aback.  It's very lyric song.

I think I'm ten kinds of thousand push toward ten kinds of peach blush,
I think I know
what's ten  kind cuz.
I think I know what's ten kind huuuutsch.

Rabbit in the whole.  Bot a fox for a troll.
Got ten kinds of the golden rule
for the scroll.
A shark for lagoon.  Got a mother#$%^er
harp for the wound.  A way to say everything
is tiny violin for fingertips on a spoon.

Flak in the air.
Body bags going home.
How about instead of putting up a plaque
set a gnome.

Light a candle.  Change what you're wearing.
Think about how you'll be dressed
when you're burr9ed.

Are you my mommie?  I know you can't be.  Can you?

Working hard and hardly working.
Are you my mommy?
On top of the junk yard
picking up pieces and putting together a great vinyl.
Are you my mommy?
Ms. Lady, are you my mommy?
Beautiful, no.
Are you my mommy?
No!  Stop!
Are you?
No.
I found something I thought you may like.  No.  I will take a look.  Are you my mommy?  No.  I will see.  Will you see?  Yes, I will see.  Are you my mommy?  No, but I will see.

A Brunch Over Tea

When our powers combine.
We are
combinatorics.  So rhetoric and graph theory had a baby?
What is the first draft pick in  2034
to be sure I can teach him how to make lawn darts.
Murderous subtlety.  The avenger!  No.
When our powers combine
we are
genesis.

Sunrise Two Hours Past Your Apartment Window on Manhattan

All the way down, fog.

Who left the lights on?

How come none of the windows open

on high rises?

Terrible air.  Terrible forced air.  How does your airconditioner work.  The flip top panel was broken when I got here, for the record.

I don't understand how you can concentrate

when twin panes of 1/4" glass are standing in the way

of sticking your head out and screaming good morning

to the streets below.  Nothing but fog all the way down,

they'll hear you if you really open those jaws.

How's the bird cage?  Ten high sky all steely n'at.  There was supposed to be rain.  You promised!  All fog.  All wonderful... stilled rain                 let me out!

On the river the tugboats go.  Bitty bees.  In to and out of the low whales.

All I want is to put my elbows on the sill.

Hang my hands 40 stories up.  A slashing ask, I know.

What is Manhattan if breath is muzzled?

The Protocol

We shall address concerns as they arise.

"And if anyone else has anything to say
now's the fucking time."

Alright, jesus.  I was born with two ears,
not two noses and I can smell you
across the room.

Button that up with acetylene.

Progress

A fire by the river
to keep the mosquitoes away
while we fish the afternoon through.

Have you got a knife?
I left mine back home.

Why have a knife
when you can have knoonorkers?

Have whats?

They can do everything a knife can do and more!
Tech took everything you loved
about your favorite tools and rolled them together.
The burrito of basic tackle box equipment,
never to leave home without.

Have you got one?

No-
but think about it, man.  How great is that.

I think I saw a can lid in the brush
on our way down the gulch.
Watch my rig, would you?

The Stage Moms

I'll talk to you when
you acknowledge
my true name.

Deeprath

Have you ever been to Deeprath?
The origin of your glasses.
The heat behind your furnace?
In Soviet Rush Her
Russia.  I am sorry.

In Deeprath I know your name.
I know your face.  I know the
 color of your tongue and do not know
the color of your eyes outright before
I draw my pistol.   Cue tumbleweed.
Cue music.  Cue horrocity.  Cue shells
captured in the three five seven barrel.

High noon.

Bring a good poncho, my brother.

Have you ever been to Deer Path?

Cut 'em down on the desert sand
somewhere southwest from here.

Deep Fried Green Beans

Aye!  Where's the lettuce for my sandwich?
It's in the vegetable drawer.
Where the radishes I came with?
They're in the vegetable drawer.
Where's the sauerkraut for my dog bun?
It's in the vegetable drawer.
Baby carrots, can I have one?
Yep.  The vegetable drawer.
Shredded cheese that I can palm to face?
Check the vegetable drawer.
Open can of crushed pineapples?
They're in the vegetable drawer.
Cold cuts to dress the lettuce?
Check the vegetable drawer.
Cherry tomatoes to pop instead of butt breaks?
I think they're in the vegetable drawer.
Butter to grill my cheese with?
It's in the vegetable drawer.
Powdered sugar to snow drift my tea with?
The vegetable drawer.

The Man With the Delicate Hands 2

What rises with the sun?
The wreckage falls away slag.
Through the hydraulic stamp,
the spark, the heat, the noise,
comes the glass man.  The Tore.
2 inch thick plates of gold.
Bullet stoppers.  Sabot stoppers.
Eat a shaped charge like puffed rice.
What rises with the sun?
Compressed circuitry.
Diamond dusted 4000 degree blades.
Sensors that can see from space.
A satellite sized orbital cannon.
The wreckage falls away slag.
Through the hydraulic stamp.
Rise and shine, draco.
What rises with the sun?
Inside, a boy.  Coursed.
Plated like no other.
A metal box impregnable.
Designed to keep out.
Hand crafted to keep in
the nuclear glass.

Snow Blind

I wear my sunglasses at night, no?  Yesh.

Look forward to the days when every day is

sunrise on Europa.

Look forward to the days when every night is

midnight on Europa.

Crack the communicator to check in because today

is the day you may die

if you did not check your gear before heading out.

God knows

his own.

Step outside and the ground is brilliant.

Step outside and the ground is deafening.

Step outside and the ground is

vertigo.

Fall outside
into the snow
face first and
be held.  Be known.
Sleep well and the world around sleeps with you.

Mr. Glass

Fish through pockets for a centerpiece
to build a conversation around.
Your mother is a haunt
growing ghost by the second
if we take time to listen to them pass.

Pollen making the sunset
blur ray time and bounce
rainbow samples in our silence,
stealing glances from pages of
picnic books.

I am shining silent,
you the same,
on a hillside in Cook county.
Michigan lake a hop skip and jump away

the breeze from him taking liberties
with our hair.

Long Drive Dream Day

Walking out to her, I see.
I see fifteen different car accidents and jaws
of life.  I see two hundred reasons to never
turn the key.

Her heart beats the way the ground does
when rain is falling on my sneakers and brow.
Staring at her uncomfortably,
the house behind, miles before,
snow falling to even the score,
fingertips itching for to grasp the shift knob.

Did she just wink at me?  No keyless entry.
So no.  It's all in your mind
while you wipe the hood down on Tuesday,
pet dragon chirping chirping like a cat
ready to go big game hunting.

A cat could not fell a dragon if it tried
with back up.

Feed her asphalt.  Feed her when no one can see.

She will not eat
under a microscope.
We have that
in common.

Never let them see you eat.
Never let them see you cry.
Never let them see you want.
You and I will never die.

The mailman says hello.
I ask what's up.
He says nothing much, are you Davis?
I say yes.
He says right on.
I say hey mister post man wait a minute mister post man
from the bed of my truck.
He laughs.
I smile
and pet the bed liner and coo to her motor and tell her
I can't be cool.

She knows, cutting Bowie knife into my guts.

Okay, baby.  Hush, baby.
The forecast said yes.
I know your tires.  I know the destination.
Waypoint.
We will test us soon.  Wait.  To luck, my darling!

Familiar

Steps.  Steps and thump.

Sitting sliver.  Shadow corner mirror
broken.

Muuhze.

Which way is that spell spelled?

I will stay out here all night
until I learn.

"Kan io niice ke eye hooei niff"

That is alphabet soup!  Piss in a bottle.

You make me like charity.

Act Your Age

Imp.

Make Port

Leave the mezzanine.
A liner to the right.  70,000.
Beside it, a private cruiser.  10.
Check pockets.  It's one hell of a hike
when you forget your wallet and identification fob.
To the private cruiser's right
a canoe.  35.  Afternoon shoppers.
To the far left a bus.  50.
Nearer, a coupe with tank mounts.  4.
Put the helmet on, intakes open,
keyless start, 99 paces to go.
Between them, a familiar face.
Tacked on hull plates and antennae and dish all over the place.
A sticky hatch, heavy fusion engine,
atmospheric adapters and
meters white on black.
White and blue die hang on the head up display,
and a domesticated cat is the first mate.
A pare of barrels and automatic turret
Intakes off and fit belt.  Pressure cab,
engine sequence go.
Bag of leftover tater tots and chicken wings secured.
Don't worry, "stand clear" is something passerby know,
because the first twenty gasping fume belches
from the exhaust are not seen
they're felt bone bass line.
Leave the Mezzanine, leave the locks, leave the port.
Cheshire 3367 requesting clearance.
Granted.
Interstellar unregistered warp capable chop rod.  1.

Question Marks 4

Dear Dr. B.,

I haven't thought of any good jokes.
Maybe one, "any" is a very big word
you reminded me earlier this week
ten years ago.

Here goes:

What do you call a shooting star on an overcast night?

Wishful thinking.

Have you ever woken ready to tear
yourself apart so that you would not break and twist
and twist the limbs of another human being
until the snapped off like stubborn Winter branches,
Spring still filling their insides?
You are the calmest man I know.

My watch keeps breaking.
It still works.  I try not to squeeze it too hard.
I try to keep it dry.  Some weather can be helped,
but umbrellas really are for suckers.
Stay home, if you are that concerned about a little water.
You never mentioned there was nothing to be done
for atmospheres.
I do have a lot of pockets to keep
what springs loose safe.

This morning I awoke ready to kill.
I brushed my teeth ready to kill.
I got dressed ready to kill.
I ate lightly, ready to kill.
I stepped toward my door and saw
the Wyle E. Coyote chasing a powder fuse
blowing frantically as it wound its way through desert maze,
moments away, off screen,
the boxes printed in red block lettering:
T N T,
so I turned around and headed to the bathroom.  Vomit.
I tore my clothes off and tripped over my pants atop shoes.
I fought my way free and fumbled back to bed
to lie awake until I could disarm my head.
Am I a cartoon?

Tell me what it means.  I cannot remember
the voices shouting "lock the door"
the way they do today.  What happened
while we slept?

Sincerely, Mr. D.

Horse Collar

There is only one way to bring it down.
There is only one way to drop it like a deer.
A deer slug.
Crawling through the ceiling.
All along the walls.
To the left of the window.
The corners of the halls.
One deer slug.  Drop it like a stag and cry and laugh
when the antlers hit the floor like a spilled bag of beads.
Bag it and tag it and off to the factory it goes to make clothes and glue.
Affix the seams of reality.
A bull forcing its way
through the seams of sight.
Charging.  Deer slugs!  Charging.  Not this time.
Please, not today.  Please!
Horns down, hands up.  Gone.

The Man Comes Around

Someone once told me I was going to end up just like my father.  Wicked old man hands.  Tell me a story using your hands only.  We're not palm readers.  A taste for it.  Goes it goes it go.  Go home, you lot.  Of thoughts come back when I consider the liquor cabinet and think better.  Times are coming.  Around the bend is a good way to travel as long as you've got high speed and good rails.  Are nice when there's a mirror around and a face to look at.  Five A.M. many things happen and I am living vicariously.

You can see pretty well with your glasses on.  Top of angels enraged on top of each shoulder it is easy to bare teeth.  Are useless when there is no meat.  My neighbor, I swear he's a pretty alright guy as long as I do not have to see him from the neck down.  Range the children play and do small dances because they know you will never be able to hit them.  And those.  Are not the targets you are looking for.  New ways in.  The battlefield of weak days we travel time and space.  Is not a right, its a privilege.   And perspective is a waste.

Me.  Go ahead I dare you.  To scratch out some kind of bull honky toot toot.  Goes the river boat and I really cannot fight.  The music continues like sour jackpots.  Should not only be available in Atlantic City.  Life will wreck the hell out of you faster than a rat can chew its way out of a cardboard box.  With a little bit of tape and a bow.  With one more arrow.  Can run very fast and I still see him on occasion.  To grab an instrument is rare.  Outcomes from gumball machines.  Are not to be trusted.  Ways to navigate a ghost are

To not blink.  Once and your dead.  People cannot speak.  Out.  Just once.  Upon a time there was a king.  His name was doctor strong.  He lived in a big leather castle.  His familiar was a bird that sat on his shoulder.  The world if you feel up to it, Atlas.  Was kind of a sucker.  Punch to the chest.  Of jewels and good souls all tucked away beside bullion collected by some kind of pirate.  Everything you have a passion for.  Getting everything you could possibly want funds terrorism.  Is not an answer. For the mistakes you've made before the mountain speaks tectonic.  Is not to be confused with tech.

Knowledgey bastards are not to be entertained, ever.  Howl at the moon in the pale blue light of day.  Brings a few misgivings.  Cannot be trapped very well.  Nessy was a good paleosaur, but I am not from there and I hear they are kinda really sorta ultra racist versus black folk so I won't try my hand.  To God, on my mother's grave, I promise.  Me you'll never leave.  If you have to.  Swim all of the way back from the horizon.  I'll race you.

You Dunnoeme

You don't know me. You dunno me yet.
Troof, you dunno me yet.
You don't know greed.  Or sport.
You dunno me yet.
You will though.  Getting to it.
It, capital eye tee.
A fun run around n'at and I cannot
help joining the chase.
Furious and unsure.
Furious still.
I do not believe in any thing.
I do believe in aliens.
You do not know me yet.

Wind Blown

Is it as far for me as it is for you?
Reading something, some book,
important and watching you read
for twenty something minutes,
an hour, half of one day.  The drums
beating behind my ears and loving
watching you read while the wind
blew your hair into all sorts
of shapes and watching the while.
Unsure of next moves, the wind
doing what it does, your smile
the same and waiting for you
to look up from those pages and
see the  beautiful dragon
you became.  You didn't.
Neither did I, my wings folded.
This is my town, my city, my block.
Not  blacked not negative spaced white.
I can see you, hair still blowing
before your face and forgotten
the distance between our pace.

The Bridge in Torrenby

"Have you ever been to Deeprath?"

"No.  I haven't."

Cock back.  Night on the cobblestones.
It looks good out today.
Rained yesterday.

They walk
good.
Out of earshot I cannot read lips
before guns come play and barrels zero.

We came here to talk!  We came here
to see how it ends.  Not today.
Hell no, not today.

I will see you both in Deeprath.

It is a helluva long walk.  I'm going to go
ahead and take the private jet and commandeer
a jeep or something to get out to the southwest flats.

You get there how you'll get there.
I'll be there with a camera phone.  In the meantime...

Moonlight mingles with streetlight
on the inch high waves of mercy water,
merc water,
underneath the bridge at Torrenby.
Cobblestones bubbled thoughts
cannons leveled to each and once upon a time
there was a king.
They called him Doctor Strong.

The leather castle unravels and
the resistance of the spring
behind the trigger is an orgasm in the wings.
I hate staring at you through his eyes,
at the ready.  What are you waiting for?
WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?
I will meet you at Deeprath.

We will settle this.  For better and-

-"bringing you the sounds of the eighties and beyond, this is DJ Batcrypt bringing you the morning coffee and a little bit of who's.   Stay tuned, up next we've got NFL and who chucked up more shots than ever before.  How will they do on assault and battery?  Stay tuned, messages after this."

Fumf!

I remember the tree and on that limb
how comfortable it was to sleep in
1999
with the sun beating down
to the tree top and the tree top turning blow
into a trickle of warm leave greened droplets
all over my clothes and skin.

Even the ants took cat naps
between scaling my brow
wriggling between my toes
and going wherever it was they were supposed to go
with their little triangles and trapezoids of leaf.

Still struck, along the sidewalk walks, these days,
looking at the rise of hills
on each side of the river,
by the sand man.  Can I cross my legs
and sit down for a while?
Better yet, if you don't mind,
the tree inside your front yard is truly a thing of beauty
and I left my hammock at home.
Wake me at sundown.
I think, today, I am not going to win the pillow fight.

You Are Not a Child

"How else will I know you?"

You can call me
pint sized sugar cube eyed.

You can call me
apple cheeks and dimple pinch.

You can call me
dingo and Disney squelch.

You can call me
the cross dimensional fortress and keep.

You can call me
junior on my good days.

You can call me
bitch cunt shackle key on my bad days.

You can call me
a lot of things,

do not ever call me heir.

Scissor

Every single one has a story to tell

after The White Stripes

There is something to be said
for the reflections of light though a window,
boun ing off of the w ndshields of ars.
Only to be co.lected inside your eyes.

A basket of coffee table sweets, no?
Bass asking more of the speakers
than they can speak?  Laugh with me!

A standing army of seven nations.
Have you never felt fury?
Deep inside your bones: fury.
Pure and gorgeous and engorged?
Capsule corporation that shit.
Bowling ball sized shit.  Encap' it.

Seven nations?  Seven ways to waste it.
Put your fury into daffodils.
Fuck you?  @#$% me.  Put that shit toward half the pills.
I'm just a full blown wizard trying to
make it with half the skills.
Sometimes with seven nations I try to mount the hill,
but when you're laughing with half the skill
I swallow the half pill still on the table
chopped up and promising me stable.

Not riding out like noir or detective hat label.
Keeping in mind the hand that rocked
my mother and the hand that rocked my father and
the hand that still rocks my broken glassed lined cradle.

I say I'm Cain, keep convincing yourself you're Able.

Running With Scissors

Which concussion is the one you do not wake up from?

Which broken nose goes to starlight and then black?

A litany of poor decisions and poor decisions.

Would you know if you were

sitting on top of a stockpile of golden medallions

if they punched you where your jaw bone meets your earhole?

Satisfaction in blowing bright red into toilet paper

is short.

No cannonballs.  No running.  No diving.

What if

I told you it was opposite dad?

Would you play with me then?

The last concussion you ever felt.

The last time you could ever break your nose by accident or by hook or by crook or by goodwill or by destiny or by fury or by tinkering or by simplicity, stupid?

Which one is the last one?  Would you play with me then?

Pittsburgh Black and Whites 15

How cold your feet.  Mine too.
The rest of me sweating, between
too much cover and skin,
lightly, breathing in and breathing out regularly
to lull you to sleep the best way a little spoon knows.

The underside of my paws
touch the topside of yours.

All hell breaks loose

for long seconds

'til your hand wraps around my jaw bone,
closing my mouth and you
shhh shhh shhh.   sush!  shhhhhhh.
"It didn't hurt."  Okay?
Feeling hit
and run.  Run run running and trying
not to cry or scream.

Morning.  Brick top right around the corner.
Autumn leaves shuffling skit skit in the wind.
Laughing at the weeds growing up inside
the cracks in the cement where
cigarette butts go and glad it wasn't another
end to another bender, but

to have a moment back I'd take that one and be black
incorporated pushing products over shoulders and
sideways glances around elephant sized boulders,
colder interpretations are always available, but
sometimes in dark nights putting up a firelight
of a matchstick against the green black of the woods
I remember what I felt when I am close to you
and I don't want to think about what getting that back
means I have to do.  I can never feel that again and
I know there's still time to spend and bringing it all back in
the bubble collapses
memory lapses
and history itself is fucking raptured and
I will never be what is strong as crazy glue ,
but I can see in black & white.

Do you?

A Picnic

The gardens!  The gardens!
The hanging gardens you could've seen
had we met hours sooner upon the year.
When I walked inside
after climbing an arm sunk to the wrist
in this hillside where we landed first,
where I lost my memory,
and turned him into a summer house.

It got cold and I wanted to use
the fireplace
to keep a little warm, there was a lot of wood around.
The gist was brilliant.  The details not.
The fireplace took.  She woke up again.
I am here now.  Well, we would not be talking otherwise.
Call it obvious.

I call it misfortune.  The flower boxes fell
and cracked to pieces on the hill's side.
You should have seen the dandelions and clover and mint
in eye watering day lit ice cream cloud reflected light
before she shook them loose
like plates felled atop a pool of grass green grease on fire.

Clinking tea cups over cakes
watching your eyes
trace her shadow
to where it meets plate metal and mineral sinews
locked up and woven toward behemoth and
pigeons circle, laughing making nests and
plans for September,
I smile back at you.
We keep coming here.

You can see it too.

I remember how I got here.
"What do you want to do today?"

Jackal

Laugh like Hyena picking bones like guitar sting.

Where the moon blows, I believe we have met before.

"Your accent is familiar, have you tried the chicken?"

"Allspice is my guess."

"There may be cloves too."

"Could use a little sea salt."

Clapping would be nice, had we thumbs.  Baby,

I know it.  Don't you start.  If you start, I will lose it.

"Jah-quel, you are too late and I am already gone-"

Smoker 45

Fuck you.  Pirate melody?  While I obscure
your finding the cure for the fog and the hate
surrounding my shooting brake while I rake up the shit lying in the gutters and the dutch big skirt standing over it handily?  Handle me, I scream, in ten kinds of colors making you my brother to cover the bullshit brown out me.  There was a shut down, can you handle me?  There was a shut down.  Damn near black out.  East said no.  The grid said yes.  For a second everyone was a moonlit guest.  The hounds came out.  Every single last end was found and then the power came back and black went to light.
When was the last time
fright turned to sight
while the street lamps blinked to the melody
inside your head?
A long.  Long. Walk.  With two matchsticks
and one barrel.

This I Believe 3

I believe in knock down drag outs.

I believe in lower case.

I believe in Carmen Sandiego.

I believe in heart throbs from Middle School.

I believe in bass and genetics.

I believe in pipe bombs and fetish.

I believe in hyper space and real time.

I believe asleep.

Do you dream?

Do you war?

I believe in chairs.

I believe in lake Michigan.

I believe in fantasizing about my professor's bare feet.

I believe in bubble gum and cardboard.

I believe in journeymen.

I believe in sadism.

I believe in gunpowder.

I believe in salutations.

I believe in metal, heavy and light.

I believe in hollow points

and well washed,glistening, silver nitrate threaded socks.

I will never be convinced

of the power of slight.

Skitter, skitter, skitter;

this I believe.  When the sun comes up,

believe it. Gunned down by the sounds,

falling on my face, blazing behind

up through the rib cage like fireworks

mapped in blood

 and found.

I believe in sidewalks.

I believe in pain.

I believe in the stopwatch.

I believe in laces.

I believe in fury.

I believe in earrings.

I believe in fingernails.

The Sun Crys With You

Summer came.  Summer left.
Jean cuffs dragging at the heels

and the beginning of shed leaves,
orange and yellow, with them.

Laces broken at the basketball court,
sneaker stitches burst climbing hills

and frayed at the river,
caught in branches and shrubs by night.

The afternoon breeze
raises jacket zippers and the dead

memories in photographs
committed indefinitely.

I should have worn a hat
against the misting rain.

I remembered my sunglasses and I'm glad
the tears welling behind them

are my own to keep, cold
as worn pennies on my cheeks.

She is wearing her sunglasses too.
Please stop crying.

The Watchmaker

I come home
and the stencil and the etching acids
have been moved.  The fine punch
and whittle knife have moved.
The black cloth for the table,
the thin threaded screws in the stable,
the snips, the lenses,
the zero gauge wire unbended,
the chair, it's cushion, my glasses,
the magnifier, my glove, my apron,
needlenose and all, my two ounce hammer,
kerchief, and key ring,
my pointer, lucky leaf, and my awl.
The irons, the spreader, the cutting wheel,
the oils, my pencil and elbow rests,
napkins and scrap paper,
everything removed from the lamp chest
and left across the table like
an arm of the Milky Way.

Nothing glitters until the lamp is turned on.

From the doorway to our office

nothing is gone

in the light from the window moon shine.

"Time will come like a thief in the night"

reminds me not to fear.  The leather band
between the pincers and the gears
still in place
awaiting another's finger tips
to turn it's dial, the spring a spiral
of coiled silver, embedded,
the face ready to be set and the hands
glued in place with a fine tipped gun
and a more reliable hand.

The door shuts.  The key enters.

Another Night Out

After Aesop Rock's Gun For the Whole Family

It was six hail Mary's and a slow box cutter.
Ten kinds of patience and a little pan butter.

Amazing grace and a lazy day.
Everyone knows somebody's gonna pay.

When we kick the switch and we're no one's bitch,
licking our fingertips with a bloody lip

with a half dozen rockets in their chambers
yet to slip.  The four of swords

because two weren't enough and
we know it's good to be king but
not the king of cups.

Seven on the shelf.
One in the mouth.
Eight in the pocket.
Nine going loud.

Bring it all back for the sunset
if you can.

Well, I'll be damned
for days.

It was six hail Mary's and thumbing the beads.
A slow box cutter to fill up the needs
and a reaper to cut down the God damned weeds.

Take the pilgrimage.

Amazing grace and a focused day,
we all know someone is going to pay.

When the bulls dance,
stand clear of the pit.

Lock horns, sit up straight.

Here, the steel sings.

Feel it, along your arm, straight up through the nerves.
Wrapped thick, the handle stings.

It was a golden day, it was amazing grace,
there is no one I can't reach.  Pass the popcorn.
Catch and release and murder
each other's queens.  Box cutter slow dance.

Deploy, deploy!
Wouldn't you agree that it is fabulous.

Where are your kanines?

Dogfight 2

Rolling scissors vertical
waiting for your engines to quit,
yours spit thousand pounds
against fiber glass,

mine, flumes and feathers as tight as
they will go.

Frames howling.

Hoods of hats witches off,
gatlings ready to light a candle
against the dark.  Fiberglass versus aluminum.
as we spiral up.  Masked mathematics
against shear ratios as the stars come out
in daylight.

Who will brake first?

Out of air, our concerns turn toward
survival.
Twin flat spins.
Control.  And full afterburn.  And flares,
just in case
trigger happy missiles launched along the way
are watching the descent and
finding a home
in the hot beds,
of our misfiring engines.

This I Believe 2

I believe in muscle cars.
I believe in cigarettes.

I believe in sex.
I believe in music.

I believe in teachers.
I believe in language.

I believe in huxpaugh.
I believe in spelling.

I believe in vaginas
and their power.  And
a god and tattoos.

I believe in siblings.
I believe in right over might and
mind your own fucking business.

I believe in dabling.
I believe in my friends.

I believe in my protects.
I believe whomever finds shelter
'neath my wings.
I believe in fighting
for the fuck of it.
I believe I saw what my eyes told me.
I believe in orgies.
I believe in candlelight.
I believe in pocket change.

I believe in bottle caps
and spelling things with numbers and
writing letters instead.

I believe in the unseen,
ghosts and aliens,
and I believe
hate should not be thrown around
like parking lot shopping bags.

I believe in shopping bags.

I believe in whatever you have
to say and I believe in fists.
I believe words are weapons and I
believe you don't have to have
brass knuckles
to qualify.

I know pain.

I believe in it.
I believe ducks wait.
I believe clouds arrange themselves.
I believe vaginas wait
for the right words,
dicks too.
I believe there is no such thing.

I believe professor is unearned.
I believe I did not need to read
that story to be relevant.

I believe I came with a hammer and
I believe I ca-me.

I believe I have not read enough.
I believe I would not be where I
cum cum cum.  I believe.

I berserk and I am done.

I believe I am finished,
but I have a couple more to say:

I believe I will never look at
why I run the same way.
I will not.
I believe running in the woods is gorgeous.
I believe time is an organism.
I believe time is an organ with very large pipes.
I believe pigeons are beautiful.

I believe money is quantum.

I believe sunrise is forced.
I believe sunset is fake.
I believe massive is sound.
I believe everything
needs a ground when it comes light to ground
so nobody gets hurt.

@ Dawn

Hands behind a back
& hands around my throat.

'kerchief around my notes
and tip tongued note.

Safeties off and
tombstones wrote.

Last meals brought before sunrise.
The pole stays the same.
I am comfortables, behind the back
play the game

until the first bullet crosses the distance.

Filters

Jumbo talk,
big wheel talk,
spare .... ...............  spare tires.

Walk with the wind on your mind.
Will you come with me?

No?

Yes.

 Biding time
to do disgusting things.
You've made the list,
the sign out list,
the guest book,
the thing not progressing toward a thimble
sharing the needle
press of sanity against the "do not do"
"how will I explain it when they
catch me in the dark?
But you may have a list
too"s.

Catch me in the dark if you.
It'd fair.  On the last days
I expect to see you,

"because I will be there"s

on your last too.

We Come Down From the North

Snow and SoHo

Something like Vermont and Cali

Golden wild life and South Mexico.

Guns and dick.

The cities of the plains,

West of the range and East of the divide.

Heart felt knives out and eyes on.

We came down from the North,

lost our way on the plains,

and so we set some fires

to see our way home.

I'll Come See You

Knock the slag off, with air piston jacked hammers.

Sitting on a crate opposite you
sitting on another,
printed in yellow block stencil
underneath, 98 mm high explosive x 75.

Underneath my ass 150 mm
aye pee
times thirty.  My feet dangling like our cigarette's
smoke mingling on a windless afternoon.

The front is 220 miles out
East as the crow flies.
We will have to refuel
over the mediterranean
and I am looking forward to seeing
how you do it.

Our conversation has already broken down
into objectives and way points with a little
bet mixed in to the after action report.

It is unfair
to where we land and to whom we mount against,
because they are not in on the game.

Us both waiting for the KA-CHUNK
of couplings leaving us in free fall
to where our bombardier's decided
we could do our best
against the populace.

A little cheers of coffee.
A little double check of flight suits.
Is the mic where it needs to be?
Trial fit the helmet again
after a quadruple check;
be sure the reticle is in line.
Double check my nail polish
before the glove comes on.
Smash shoulders and opposing tattoos,
before the top of the flight suit
is zipped on.

Finish the coffee, with pills in our mouths.
They will learn what we live for,
they will learn what is loud.

Our flights will be long.  I'll sleep inside the mech
along the way.  I don't know what happens to you
while we wait out the sandbox for play.
The thup thup thup thup thup thup
I can hear, because I never turn off
the audio input once I am strapped in.

For me, it is a very long long long grin
to watch you work.  Guilty. 

Watching, zone cleared against spear chuckers
who happened to have come into
a fushionable pile
and needed reckoning before
something terrible happened,
you break out a "grenade"
two tons strong and willing to-\
-/Christ, where is the pin?

Mech against mech.  Dust to dust.
Die another day.
Why can you not understand I do
feel the same?

Fire the shell in my mechanized palm
to fire it just that strong
and knock it four miles out
to change the time of day from moonlit to
high noon in a fire ball that could eat city blocks,
but she's in the air.  Fair.  But "what the f@#$?"

Overkill.........  underneath your left foot,
underneath your left pedal inside your cockpit and
underneath you left foot outside your cockpit
you are grinding human flesh into a paste.  And now is
the fucking time.
Do you remember being small?  I do.
You don't get conscripted by chance. 

You find detonators.  You stumble upon detonators.
Land mines   Mines.  I've never met a land mine like you.

I will know how to move forward
regardless after you.
Everyone talks big.  Yack, yack, yak yak yak, waaaan.

Cruiser.  Angry.  There was someone else here.  I will find them, sonavubitch.  Fail.  My fault.    Reset.

Reset. 

Reset.

Reset.

Clutch in.  Match revs. Time to the light.  Gas pedal.  Clutch out. 
Release brake.
Gas pedal down. 

Slowly.

Burnout.

Walk With the Wind On Your Mind

Collages and kaleidoscope.  Yeah?  Reset day.
Where is your passport.  It is not a question.
Over used lately much chain quest bright lit
honey bee honey bear cooing sweater swim?

GET THE FUCK OFF ME.

Believing in the pebbles and stones and polished ones,
the ones that are good for skipping across the river
little waves like cigar boats running nothing but days for
hours and hours for seconds, brilliant, sneakers gone to sea.

It is not difficult.  Schools of minnows course around toes.

Get the fuck up off of me.

It is not difficult to watch the waves lap
across the tans and browned out pinks
of river rocks, toes gripping them
and releasing, only to be

held in hand & whipped away.

I may not have kissed you today,

fear not.  It was only because I did not think

I would miss your taste,

breathing in Allegheny on the wind &

pleading with another sunset.  Closing in.

With Teeth

Control.

Control.

The autumn sage.  Sunflowers explode over
where the lawnmower should not go.

For somebody elses money?

My sister has grown thin, skin to bones.
My other sister is thin skinned.

They call me a coward.  They call me broken,
hanging with the rust of us and happy to dine.

Watching the waves roll has been tremendous and
am I that butterfly?

Control.

Control.

On bended knee on a bitch's leash.
All up in flames.  Origami heart and a match

made in heaven and the shade.
Grade me,  Grade me!

What am I supposed to say,
what am I supposed to pay,

how far am I supposed to go?
Beyond what the dot dot dash dash  supposed to know

where it is that every thing began

and why where the river clips, it's a dam.

Feet up and crossed and if only I could
I would be a robotic horse
glitter balled.

Control.

Watch light break
through the ice cubed.
See through me and it's okay.
I cannot see you through.

Sunflowers exploding through the grass
while sunlight breaks through the glass
and paints the full spectrum
across my hand and fingertips tapping out
a beat close to my heart.
Red orange yellow.
Green blue indigo violent.
The whiskey, brown.  The ice, cubed.
I am the god of this empire.

Prism.  You damn coward.
You think I know?
It's hello.

Control.

Control.

sKIPPED tRACKS

The wrecking crew comes in,
the cinder blocks go out
like light bulbs cracking against cement.

Remind the self to dance.
Dance, dance, dance!
Dance as though your life depends on it!

The wrecking crew comes in,
breaths go out
like cinder blocks split by metal.

Softcore, hardcore, softcore.
One and zero and one and zero.

Like light bulbs cracked against cement,
nasal push button the taste of what was meant.
Mean grille.

You asked for teeth.  Hang a hat.  On the way out.

You've Been Flirting

I can obey all of your rules.  Without exception
sunrise gets boring.   Pouring? Pooring?

What I have is what I've written down and
I will never be able to do this without you.

It sounds crazy, give me your ear
for a moment.  You can keep it.

Necklaces made of absolute horrocity.
And golden like teeth well hammered and studded.

Acknowledge that I exist!  Or do not.
You are out of reach.  It is a hike

I am prepared to make.  The fourth dialect.
Mixes with the second.

New language, come forth!  I summon thee
and wave my hands and nothing happens

without presence. Without presence,
nothing happens.  Can I motivate you to press.

Are you pressing yet?  Has summer eaten you yet.
I wave my hands and try to make hurricanes.

If a butterfly, then so should I be able.
No.

I've been turning over what to do
with your cheeks after they are freed from their bones.

Sautee'?  I would love to flip them in a wok with fire
licking up the sides.  Like the commercials.

Slow cook the nose until
it is jelly and half water stock for later.

Ox tail exists all along your spine.  Beef.
Not a boning knife.  A good cleaver

to liberate your tastes.

The Fight Song for Our Carrier (the super ship) "Katy"

We went, we went,
to the stars.
Came back, came back,
from afar.

Wherever landed
ate the land and
wherever stranded
we made a stand.

Home or away
that's how we do,
praying for the day
waiting for new

Everything along the wire
wake up wake up
there is a dark lit fire.
Away, away, up and up

Matching patches too.
On our shoulders
heel to hell,
We are the drop ship marine and sand blue.


*clap clap
clap clap

clap clap
clap clap*



With out you I am nothing.
With out me you are nothing.
Together we will right, together
we are might!

**repeat

You and Die 2

You are and double the "C"s.  Double the "R"s.
Double the seas again.  And look to the sign
for the warning.

You and die and you and I and
you and I.
Sing song goodness to bass.

You know nothing of where I am from.
Uedai, you know nothing of where I am from.
Capital idea, old sport.

Currency.  With twin barrels, Uedai.
Have you ever been to Torrenby, Uedai?
I would like to go, you and I.  You can come with,

I will not mind. Valhalla, something like it.
To get tattoos.
Only if you let me tattoo you and clean your skin after.

Uedai

Valhalla.   Something like that.
Em dee em tee, did I get that right?

Currents.  Currency?
Double the "r"s, double the "c"s?

It goes.  And
I wonder.  And I wonder

who has been
sniffed out.

5000 Lbs

The aircraft was built special.
The eyesight too.
Gyroscopic and not the sandwich from overseas.

Concrete.  The bird built special.
Altitude
when it left.

I came a little.
All zeroes and lift.
I want you to cum too, while I am empty.

11 Years

How long will you bounce off the walls
of meta jail?
Making small talk in the yard?

Yes, it's going good.

Everybody talks.  Eventually.

I know.

I didn't ask.

I know.

Eleven years is a long time, bun.

I know, but you think you can steal from me.
Knowing that I didn't know stealing was wrong?
Knowing there was nothing much I could really do
about it?  Knowing no recourse?
Knowing no source of my own?
Knowing there was only one power plant
shoving off the juice then?
Knowing I couldn't see an open door
if I stumbled into it?

Eleven years is a long time.

Fuck you, it is.  It is and I know.
I haven't forgotten.

Memory is long.

Haven't you a cassette you'd like to play.  The stereo is
the same. Let's have some music.
Let's have some music.  I would love nothing less.
A little Bach, prehaps prehaps?
I've always been a fan.

1998

Tick it over.
Roll it over.
Where it began, aye?  Yes.
The long war.  The long stripes.
The good kettle, yes?

Quietly, you know
I want what you owe me.
I'm going to get it.

"...if you go down there, you are going to die..."

Listen to them, honey.  You are.
A little kiss, honey.  You are.
You are, you are, you are.
It's not a myth.

It's not a story to tell your grand grands.
I am not the bogey man.
I was born like many before,
and I have not forgotten our score.

"...if you go up there, you are going to die..."

Rolling back the dial.
Ticking it over.
I love this song.
Right the wrongs, now yeah?

We've had a good run, yeah?
Aye okay, if I might add.
I'll whistle on my way to visit.
I will visit, yes.

"...if you go down there, you are going to die..."

fantastic, they said.
Like pixels, they said.
Complete the picture, they said.
You cannot scream in a funeral home, they said.

I'll make time.
There's time for everything.  Scha-wing!  Rimshot.
I'll bring a flower on a Tuesday,
a very disappointed day of the week.

"...if you come up here, you will die..."

Visit the hole in the ground.  I don't eat pets.
How nifty would it be
if the eulogy was written by
someone incapable

after you drilled into me.
I hope you learn to laugh some day,
genuinely.  Awake is a wake except
when it's a party.

Mizz C. D. Wright

Cutting pepperonis with the heavy bond scissors.
Where are the crayons?  This napkin is magnificent.
Textured, like C. D. Wright.
Would she have a cup of coffee with me
if I drive from the rust belt to her house?
Will you have a cup of coffee with me
if I drove from the outer system to her house?
I won't stay long.
I won't bring the entire ship with me, that's foolish.
Can I park in your driveway?
C. D., can we talk about
your garage lighting?
The tail end of a pencil snags in my jean pocket
every time I put it through the wash.
I am scared I will find the other end
inside my foot, trying to talk, chew gum, and walk
a friend through my apartment
before their tongue cradles my privates.
Making a sandwich with no fingernails inside,
I know focus is  hard like clouds or something- Winter.
The slink slip. Yes?  No.
Not at all.
Gather meal together,
crush it into a ball.
How do you access moments, C. D.?
Have you ever
torn a toe nail off to the root to see if you could?
Teach me.  Teach me!
So that I can brush my teeth and
never wash my hand again.
The cyclist next door
rips his motor over and over,
cussing his phone and the woman on the other end.
Volunteer fire department employee pays well,  except
when it doesn't.  She's got go. I promise.  Hell,
I'll buy the plane ticket and walk
when I touch down.
Hugging my knees on the fire escape,
plans are laid for a wonderful garden, Wright.
I think you would be proud,
the cherry inside my mouth hisses.
Turn the music down.  The neighbors.
What do the backsides of your ears smell like, C. D. Wright?

You Are: Aye (song for my crush)!

The hook of your nose.  Your shitty
been up all day
hair.  The stink of you and your laundry pile.

You awe.    Eye shadow?  No, black eye
from not enough sleep, or was it restraint?  This time,
heels across the end table, rained through and bubbling on your porch,

finish on fake wood, toes wiggling,
we'll talk about light fixtures and plans for
horses powered by unicorn clouds.  Or farts.

Your smile is tame.
Your leggings are awful great.
You're never here when I am.

Myself the same.  I want to know.
My coordinates?  They're encrypted for a reason.
You awe.

Inspection.  Not authorized.  Inspection.  Not authorized!
Inspection.  Not fucking authorized!
Shoulder to shoulder in the yard.  Watching ships come and go.

Turning their lights on.
Shutting down.  Turning their engines, exotic and common, over and
gone.

You are.
Can I wash your hair?  You look like you've been
up too long.  I have.  I promise to be gentle.

I don't really smoke either.
Can I?  It's dumb.  I know.  To ask.  Putting.
I won't.  Don't mind my eyes.

Piecing you.  Assembly required later.
Recreating and rebuilding the vision.
That burst sun rays in the afternoon along your neck

while your head rested on your fist
and the wine bottle  mouth gathered flies
and our insides went
tick tick tick tick.

I love you.
Saying hello and coming out
a screaming white hot AYE!!!!
My toes wiggling in the summer air
on the other side of the table
searching for film and reel and real
in common.
You awe.

The Little Prayer

With speed,
we go to fight the unseen,
to make tawt fabric of the seam.

With light, we go,
without, still teethed,
through fortnight, fort in flames,
flag waves, inside the siege.

Pick up wherever ends find you.

Lay claim the corners.

The lines?  They drew.

The Anger Song

after The Anchor Song

I live by an ocean

      and during the night

            I car through the city.

           Sharpening  my bones,

    while currents caress me,

           throat knot'd to anchor.



O'this is where I'm braying,

     the sea, my home.

Number

I can trip them up sometimes.
Fantastic.

"Good to go?"

No.

Holding up
holing up
holding up photographs
beside faces
to know what is reel and what is

One of these things is not like the other.
One of these things just isn't the same.

I don't yelp often.
I am a squealer in the sack.
When I scream
and piss inside my pants

One of those things
failed the test and managed to make its way
across the barbed wire,

rounded the corner and

stared me down faster than I could blink.

Get Serious

I woke up
sleeping coffin style
with a sardine's spine on my chest.

Wondering why
the cats did not get to it
before my breakfast.

Thank Head For the God Phones 2

My selector.
Whip the wheel.
Say hello and
fucking say hello.
All around and yeah.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Jingle jangle.  Jingle jangle.
Just so you know.
Dreaming in daylight
with keys dangling.
Just so you know.
All around and yeah.
Do the numbers,
run the math,
held tight around the skull,
cleared path
with blaring sound to light the way
to forget the ghosts that prey and bray,
horse blinders cut them off at the pass,
if only
to make
why not
volume to eleven
nerve endings burning out
on a landslide to where it is impossible to confuse
the corners and faces and
ALL OF THE VOICES.
Snow the globe to ash.

Smoker 44

the thought that i had
the first yawn of the day that I had.
The coming back together that I had.
The not stealing the piano that I wanted.
The rolling it up the stairs that I didn't.
That nap that I did not take.
The ice cubes that I ... wake up!
Shirley Temple.  The sure temple.
Our Ziggurat!
Painted in.  No tape.  No son.
Remember your age,
but don't check out early.
The thought that I had
is coming back together
and I am mad at you.
I am pissed at you.
I spit at your feet.
And I want you
to cherish the Ziggurat too.

Baseball 10

Leather hits leather and stitch,
take a breath,
nothing but time and triggers should never be pulled
with a gut full of air.  Run run run run run. Let him.  Gun him down.

Let the ball go
and then let the ball go
without blinking.

At the point of attack
the most difficult thing to remember is
never close your eyes.

Leave self preservation behind.
Let go self's bred defense.
Never close your eyes
at the point of attack.

Return of the Painted Dinosaur LP

A Rotten Time

Circling the village and smoke stacks, I

"Are you really happy?"

"I'm happier than I've ever been.  Never acid again?"

"Never acid again."

The thwup thwup thwup thwup of rotor blades
can send a boy deaf if
the whine of engines don't take care of it first.

Pick a spot.  Wherever is good.  I'll meet you
up the block.

It is okay.  It is why we came here.
It is why we can't get any god damned air
between our Osprey and their muzzles
throwing metal.

It is okay.

Circling the huts and
the roaches.
We brought mechs.

Ready now?  Never acid again.  "Let's go, boy!"

Crush them or die trying.  Headed toward
the blue flare
smoke.

The Valley of Light

Winter burly still the wheels skip

rear drive up hill across the spot where

the sweepers turn into hair pins and 

hydroplaning is more than a concept

in an article.

Changing lanes

was a bad idea

hearing the pop of solid transaxle 

bang the frame like a whore's kiss,

left rear hopping the curb before biting 

concrete and tearing 

her ear off

with teeth.

Can you be? Can you be?

Can you really eat me.

Not today, on a wing and a hope and a prayer.

Fringes of vision beginning to gray

with speed enough to pave the way straight

to heaven. We go and go and go faster.

Nose bleeds no.  No still means no.

Snow fall comes in the depth of the night,

tearing apart the Summer highway and 

I can eat it all if I open her mouth wide enough

with fingers.  Spit inside.  The clutch slips and

torque tears a hole in the sky inside tunnel vision,

did you know if you strike

between the eyes they call it seeing stars?

I see snow white, waking up,

the driver side door slamming and try

to catch a flake on my tongue.

Can you be? Can you be?

Can you really eat me?

Dread Not (the code)

"I look after you,
you bet your ass
you better be
looking after me."

The phone rings and I am asleep
talking to you. The phone rings again
and I am out of bed and on my saddle
looking for the spot "I know" between the tracks and trees,
still sleeping while I kick the pedals
to get where the getting is good and by the time
my consciousness decides to rise everything's gone bad.

We timed it.  The cars of coal behind the engine

will not stop for anyone

on the tracks.  The grander scheme, gilt.

Polished and coiled iron and brass and,

plated gold, depending on where it's going.

no one's there
in good spirit, but I brought my own and
home is where the hearth is,
bonfired and inspired by a thing as simple as
a time of day.

 
Spitting distance to the river,
laid back on
railroad rocks and backpacks for pillows
eyes night
it would be good to be near you. Everyone else
the bonus.
A beat machine on a handheld
kicks up the way I know you and you know me
by smell. Teeth spread in the star eyed sky
like blue glow sticks and we,
for a few more minutes, cash in karma points

between the rails, mine steel and held down with

spikes large enough to be Raptor finger nails and 

before the new year sets,
talking about the trout licenses

over the phone
that we will never get and who won what
long bet set last January and
the river is crystal clear to the people there.
Begging a stone to be skipped.

"I look after you,
you look after me."
We skate a little bit.  You, at the riverside.
My voice lost with coal cars bellowing, metal on metal

at each coupling,

on both sides.

Interlude I

"...choose your own adventure.  It's kind of like 

the first time I left home and it was either

come back in a few days 

or find work and there was only one way..."

"....you heard the story about

Onibaba, right?  She was

one bitch of a motherfu-..."

"... to live long enough to

gain access to 

affordable replacement parts.

At least, replacement parts you can sell

everything  you've built

for, if scheduling conflicts mean less to you than

where you spend time

in an ideal whorl..."

The Toast Never Said

All I want in this new year

Everyone has a right to a new year's wish.

The difference kicks down a door,

protocol and extreme prejudice,

everyone has a right to wish.

Is peace on Earth

Everyone has a right to a new year's wish.

The difference kicks down a door,

protocol and extreme prejudice,

everyone has a right to wish.

Even if I have to kill

Everyone has a right to a new year's wish.

The difference kicks down a door,

protocol and extreme prejudice,

everyone has a right to wish.

Every last motherfucker

Everyone has a right to a new year's wish.

The difference kicks down a door,

protocol and extreme prejudice,

everyone has a right to wish.

On this God damned planet.

Super Easy (stick the landing)

Catching snowflakes with a tongue
is an art.
It is cold outside. It is cold inside.
What else is new?
The sledding has been
a task.  Remember when adventure meant coke

and it was easy to understand?
Laughing like this years before
disposable cameras
were the rage, I ran round and round and sought out

opportunities to steal.

Snowballs still

make the same sound.  When they pepper a party.
Everything changed and nothing.
Watching it all fall down.
Do not be so
whatever it is called.
Hearts are
doing what they do.
Along the expanse of drift covered parking lot,
street lights and all,
there is space to dream between flakes,

until headlights scream to a halt at your knees.

Glaring, 

the bloodshot pair of eyes behind the windshield glare back.

Interlude II

"The ground shook the other day."

"I know.  I was there.  Chairs moved themselves"

"Was it an earthquake?"

"I'm not sure."

"Aliens?"

"Could of been."

"You were not alone before.  Do not piss your pants

when angels make landfall.  What is different now?"

"Nothing..."

The Great Destroyer "Goodness" Breaks Communications

Velvet hammers require

a standing staff of no less than

fifteen thousand souls

to make their engines go.

Destroy your goodness, they said,
brought cellulars to hell and
orbited XRF-Ac77's horizon
at a safe distance
until it's crew went to bed.

A fool takes the name.

A drunk believes.

A prince commands.

A king thinks.

Destroyer Goodness, they said,
brought cellulars to hell and
orbited a wound in time
at a safe distance
until it's crew bled.

The great destroyers

ply the seas

between the planets and 

bring eras to their knees.

"Destroy your goodness", they said.
"Bring cellulars to hell" and
orbiting XRF-Ac77's ecliptic,
after com-links failed,
worlds went dark one by one, and
the angels fell.

Antiques

Lying in the sun

beside the maple tree

the shade retreats

and I don't know why

the sun is dead set

on making bacon

out of me.

Return of the Painted Dinosaur

Hi.  Can I interest you in sex today?

It's been a rough week.  I've been keeping a 

backpack on, in case something comes up

that needs solved slower than a boxcutter

and faster than a trip back to my apartment

to grab a water bottle and Allen wrenches

and Teflon tape.  

There's a ball gag in there too.  For me.  

To help me

work better.  I cannot go wrong with 

a spare chisel and tin snips too.  Five fingers

is an over rated theme.  Have you seen my cellphone?

It's a rock that I throw when my voice is too small,

distance too great, or a fax needs sent.

Have you polished your scales today,
coiled inside your cave, where the cool flat rocks
can soothe the hot bellows of your gut?

Tango in the "it's good to be tall, isn't it."  

The color really comes out in sunlight.  It's worth

the going over is gotten shady.

Era's error.  I am not unhappy

a rock ended us.  

It makes sense, the sar-chasm.  Or don't.

You don't know me.  Quite alright.

I was born eras before yesterday

and then I stayed up all night.

The Night Shift

Someone mends the bones.

Someone walks the halls,

picking up this and thats.

Someone comes behind,

replacing everything alphabetical to the stacks.

Tests end and classes do too.

Paper cups reach garbage cans.

Pencils are collected and sharpened.

Anxiety vomit cleaned from stalls.

Chewed off fingernails swept

into baskets along with

muscle balled notes.

Bookmarks are removed.

Trash cans are end upped again.

Skeleton keys turned and lights 

turned off.  

Toilets are flushed and mirrors polished.

Shoes to their bin

and cross stitches sewn

to close broken skin.

Yawns are taken.

Bathroom stall questions asked 

are answered in marker.

The aggression erased 

with steel wool.

Dust is swept and sprayers spritzed.

Vacuums run and museums built.

Little by little.

Before morning dares to touch to a cheek it's lips.

Endless Battle

do it

...do it

....do it

do it!

do it!

DO IT!

DO IT!

duet

duet!

DUET

DUET!

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST SHUTUP!!!

I CANNOT!

I cannot.  

I can't.

you can

you can

... you can 

ha ha ha.  yeah, no.  

In all seriousness no.

do it

...do it

....do it

do it!

do it!

DO IT!

DO IT!

ffffff...  I am not thrilled.

That is a-ok.  There'll be treats.

Do you remember what happened the last time we got into this?

So do you.

I am not thrilled.

Join our club.

Home

Someone left the garage door open.
The right hand side one.  There is no car inside,
the left one hidden by the left hand side door,
still down.

Chunk up a good hack, looking at it.
The gutters need cleaned.  Known before the lit out.
The chuck through teeth lands square
inside a flower pot grown over.  Glare.

Where the hell are the keys?
Break a window.  There are the keys
beside the sunglasses.  The hell
gotten up to, taken away long enough
for leopard slugs to crawl

up the cellar stairs walking down
after banging knees on coffee tables
well stocked with envelops,
notebooks, and pens, and bills.

Not a soul in sight
above ground.
Beneath:
the shop.
Still chewing the weed picked
at the front of the driveway
where the bus line ended and
the acres began.

City mice are
one hell of a cup of tea
and good to keep
at arms length.  Most of the time.

Get cleaned up.
Start with the glass, then the garage door opener.
Then the gutters.
Then the lawn.
Then walk the driveway and maybe check the gotdamn mail.

It is good to be home.
It is better to be
in the cool of the basement.
It is better to be near
the trees.

Wishmaster

I've held something in my heart for too long and I will relate a story to you, but I have to ask you some questions first.  Do you remember how you can wish on a shooting star?  Do you remember how you can throw coins into a fountain?  Do you remember how you can place coins on a statue pedestal?  Do you remember how you can tip your hat to the sun, but only when the moon is up too and you happen to be wearing one?  Do you remember how, if you snatch a propeller seed out of the air, you get one if you toss it at someone and it touches them on the way down?  Do you remember how snatching a ball of fuzz out of the air was very important?

I do not pee in jars anymore.  I do not cut whole chickens into pieces in a very specific way beyond the call of duty or hunger.  I do not make sure I have a mirror inside my right front pocket at all times because I need to break it at a very specific and occasional time that shows its face.  I do not rub cum behind my ears when I am going to a job interview.  I still do not hit roadkill if it is already dead.  I do not whisper to stones and then bury them when people are watching.  I do not keep an even amount of pennies in my apartment at all times.  I do not hold on to an odd number of scars at all times.  I do not touch my shoulder to the right side of each door's jamb passed through when I visit a new house.

There was a wishmaster that grew in my backyard, in Maryland.  At the time, I was snatching the little fuzzies out of the air with abandon, then.  I did not know where they came from, but each spring they were everywhere and I saw them rarely on Staten Island.  When I was mowing there was a plant the mower could not chop down, in Maryland.  I passed it off as work for later.  The fuzzies were very numerous and I started a game of catching them between spells of flying paper aeroplanes and shooting them down with a water canon that used the constant pressure system so that every shot taken would have maximum distance on it regardless of how much water was in the tank.

I grew very concerned.  The next week.  It was not time to mow the lawn.  The fuzzies were still catching wind and they were.  Grabbing balls of flakes of chips of feathers.  I sent many wishes.  Back then.  I walked around the house.  Looking for grass to cut.  The plant was ten times its previous size.  Entirely vertical.  Opened.  Throwing feathers into the wind.  My first time facing a wishmaster.  It was generating wishes.  Creating them.  I was terrified.  Too terrified.  Weeks bled into months.  I went out every day.  To look at it.  Not daring to touch.  Afraid to cut down.  What if you cut it down wrong?  What if it grows back?  What happens to everyone else's wishes?

What if you eat the fuzzy instead of opening your hand?  Blowing it away.  What if someone else cuts it down?  What if it saw me?  What if it remembered that I ran the mower over it?  It died.  On its own.  Turned grayish brown.  Fell over.  Taken from my hands.  There are more.  There are more.  They are horrible.  Do not destroy them all.  Do not allow them to grow on your own land.  Take your chances.  Cut them before they begin casting.  Open ended wishes.  My recommendation.  The only way.  After the wishmaster fell over.  I burned it.  To be sure.

Return of the Painted Dinosaur (track one)

Circling the village and smoke stacks, I

"Are you really happy?"

"I'm happier than I've ever been.  Never acid again?"

"Never acid again."

The thwup thwup thwup thwup of rotor blades
can send a boy deaf if
the whine of engines don't take care of it first.

Pick a spot.  Wherever is good.  I'll meet you
up the block.

It is okay.  It is why we came here.
It is why we can't get any god damned air
between our Osprey and their muzzles
throwing metal.

It is okay.

Circling the huts and
the roaches.
We brought mechs.

Ready now?  Never acid again.  "Let's go, boy!"

Crush them or die trying.  Headed toward
the blue flare
smoke.

Smoker 43

Remind yourself.
Remind yourself that it matters.
Not to you, to others.  The other ones on planet ship.
The other ones sharing bunks with your bum ass.
The other ones chowing with you and asking
if you could grace them chowing too.
They're not incising you.  They want to share food.
That's all.  It's important.  To them.
Share.  Eat.  Remind yourself that it matters and
does not, is not, a highlight or call out or front street
for you.
S'okay, silly boy.

I Still Know the Fucking Score

The story of betrayal
begins and ends
with you.

You Will Not Sit Still

Sit still for whom?
Sit still for what?
Sit still for work?

Fuck that.

I am sorry.
I am always sorry, right?
Sorry for what?

Notorious Practitioner

The bird barks.
We do not encourage violence here,
then again we do not advocate a lot of things.
The bird barks.
We do.  Not so secretly in love,
with our first language.
The bird barks.
You and die. You and I.
The hell difference does it make.
The bird barks.
The doctor will see you now.
You and I and they, un-muzzled.  Linked elbows & a skip in our step.
The bird barks.

Light Sculpture

Because we all know
what glitters may be not vibrant.  May shine without soul.
May be easy to grasp and even easier to hole away
and whisper secrets to
on the off chance that
another shovel spade will go PING down the line and smash it apart.
The little secrets up again to the wind.
What glitters may not be vibrant.  May shine without soul,
we all know.
May be difficult to grasp and more difficult still to hole away,
but will hold secrets when whispered to
on the off chance that
another finger tip will touch the lithic heap and fingers splay against
sun roasted surface.
The little secrets burning through,
unbreakable in the breeze that wicks sweat.
Because we all know:
What glitters may not be vibrant.  May have no soul.
May be too large to fit in the palms of hands or hide
in a jacket pocket
on the off chance
the body is found.
The little secrets up again to the wind
for no one to know.
What glitters be not vibrant.  Whisper gifted soul.

Cat Tails Over the Grating Near the Willows

I don't write notes in the backwoods of books, but

my tongue is small,
 good for eating
   and thick
    easy to find and thoroughly present between
     seams where a solid weld
      can make or break a night.
     For kissing she is
     clumsy and deaf and
      signing 120 words per minute
       each pair a couplet
        each couplet a
         word in the mother tongue
          for one thing many ways seen shade:
           where have hue been.
            twining fingers to palm
             cutting her eyes for you
              teeth clinking little
               sea kings, along their ride, beseeching
                "come inside."s
                 120 separate ways
                   per minute.

Wingmate

CHASE ME!  I will burn fuel with you
to help pass the time.  Loop the loop.

Sheets of cirrus.  Knife them through
straight on until the third star on the right

shines bright and combustion
flat quits.

I will chase your dive until
we nearly swim and pull hard,

breaking water out of thin air
the same and close enough to smell

your motor's breath,
some of your paint tearing free of your metal.

Whipping the wheel
along the way

toward flak and consequence.  It's not easy
to laugh at mach 2.

Dreadnought

Turn the key.
Listen to the horsepower.
Hundreds of feet away,
through the floor and
decks below, to tickle the spine.
Enough to motivate
a minor city block of
iron, steel, glass, and souls.
Do not fear
the water's chop and hack and scream.
Let the tugboats do their work.
Pistons large enough
to crumple a car.
Barrels ready to light up zones
beyond Earth's curvature.
A lot to have
with a hat on straight and
uniform pressed and buckled well.
Turn the key.
At first light, sail.
Search and destroy.

This I Believe

I believe in swords, both long and short.
I believe in scars.
I believe in change.
I believe in combat and peace.
I believe in moon rise and howling for others.
I believe in taking time.

I believe in will and might can make right
given enough time.

I believe in professors.
I believe in pants as well, though they should not be worn too often.
I believe in nature and math.
I believe in sunrise.
I believe in traffic and radio.
I believe art.
I believe sleep.

I believe a thousand pictures can be worth one word.

I believe in sexlessness.
I believe in school.
I believe in engines and crankshafts and tie rods and motor oil.
I believe in explosions.
I believe in wires and etching.
I believe in capacitance.

I believe in touch.

Crash Groove

Aye!

Aye, you!  You there!  Yes, you!

Looking up, back down to grass and the moon
doing it's best to arrive
without making a stink.

I see you, boy.  I see you.

Inhaling all sorts of goodness,
the summer dream and
everything tastes like greenery, yeh?  Yup, it do.

This is road.

To scorched earth, we have to go
to ends and ends and quests.
Miniature quests and full length ones too.
The get.

This is road toward

when I look at the space
between the stars I can see them
ones between, irises dilated,
harmony.

Toward a plane,
ecliptic, reminded of sword and how  analog
are you?

Bent.  I'll go to hell with you, but
our passports better match.

Song for My Brother

I am your shadow.  I am yo|r shadow.  I$a! y%||  @_a/o|+

Blacked out beneath
you're leaving again?  To go where?  To see whom?
There was a man about
a horse, I was not on board
and brought the money anyway.

A scratch beneath
fur tired out on its own.
You will never know,
looking down at the petals of a flower
squishing itself
into a jarrow cheeked face
to open its mouth and take
all of the fingers off your hand
like penny tickets numbered
and your ears ringing tolls
as they separate and
skin splits and
musculature unravels and
numb blood runs like ink
into the whole,
eyes rolled forward.
Screaming, jaw pressed to coffee table top.
Or you will

beneath past lives,
I hope each time
I hear my name
shouted to me and find
nothing close enough to know me,
let alone our names,
you hear it too
and hear
our eyelashes touch eyebrow
with more clarity than
a bell in a tower knocking at your door
before you leave again

while I sit
and breath in lilac
in the shade of your branches.
Protect.  Yourself. I will be
on my haunches, cooling.

The Screamer

Facing down the barrel of the sun
with the bullet ray striking I
blink
seeing the spiral from the muzzle to chamber,
the pin behind,
remember the project?
The thing you brought to class.
Physical poetry, she said.
Matter, she said.
Tangible, she said.
So I built a sea mine,
triggers and all,
iron casing and all so when it went off
death would be assured,
all of it out of wine bottles,
spray paint, and 40 gauge wire.
Getting it there, across campus, was not easy.
Is it live?  For me to know and you to
fuck off.
The workshop did not go over well either.