Smoker 8

"She gets me
to that spot where I don't know
if I'm on the verge of being
horny or if I really
need to pee."

A flake of snow lands
on the tip of my nose
in the porch light still warming
up to it's full output
and the buzzing
and condensation freezing
in the muff beneath my mouth
is not what I want to hear
but, you're not much for conversation tonight
and I'm feeling uninspired
poking at the dead and floating embers
still rising from the crater of
so violent
a thing as the melt down
that detached you from our world.

"I'm just saying
I can understand
what you saw there."

A flake of snow lands
on the tip of my nose
in the porch light still warming,
but hours from illuminating,
and buzzing
conversations inside the front door
are asking you when
will you snuff out
the last shreds of that blaze
that took more lives than you had to spare and
get used to the warmth of good company.

Boundary Theory

It's not that there's only so much pornography,
it's that the vertex graph of the human body
allows only so much
before we need to
clip
some edges.

Flash the Firmware (LP)

Vision Quest


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.

Nervous on an Other Level

I've stumbled upon an auditorium full
of women clapping at women talking
and the smirk is not at the idea of
valuation apart from sex or the fact that
anything you can do I can do better, but really
it's at the dour sets of so many mouths
and the multitude of shadowed brows,
the half light of the meeting space,
the 8:30 A.M. painted faces,
the ten dozen sets of angry eyes
doing their best to avoid smiling "hello"s
and, hell, I have my own misgivings
about some ways of guys,
but no, I did not receive the memo
and I'm not looking for a place to sit,

I'm thirty minutes late for my Irish history exam
and this room was supposed to be it.

We Just Went for a Walk

The keys to the front door
are going in my pocket
wrapped tightly in the lanyard of
my school i.d. because I know
the bushy whites of your ears
are triangulating my whereabouts and
the morning air
I agree
smells so much more like
untested dawn tree lines and
the wet backs of black grasses
than it does like a school day.

Herb Rubbed Whole Turkey Bird on a Bed of Carrots and Golden Onions

Doily laced, but finer, like
streamers of clarified butter
over threads of spider wisp caramel and

too heated for the easily melted
pot of the belly and
the furred floor of a well watered mouth alike so

pressed nostrils in full flare
to the oven's vents and
drinking scarves of dinners scents and
raising dares of expectations
like team spirit pennants in the 9th
will, for now, my crowded senses
on edge of seat and anxious feet
have to satisfice.