after The Orb - Prime Evil
Pray to angels
pray to kings
pray to land
pray to clouds
pray to numbers
pray to me.
Pray to devils
pray to hell
pray to spit, chicken bones, and spells
pray to glory
pray to mouths
pray to certainties
pray to now.
Pray to stars
pray to food
pray to love
and pray to move
pray to baths
and champion
pray to tracks
pray to be.
Pray to spades
pray to earth
pray to work and
pray to dirt
pray to music
pray to see
pray what will,
horizon songed,
make sure
you've prayed to me.
original works of parts
Crusher
Recurring dream
where black pours out of light fixtures like oil. We are tiny people, children, our hands small as can be. Holding utensils. Our teeth falling out between our fingertips and the roots full size and twirling like pink lengths of taffy. We are at school again. The teeth are yellow and caked all over with caramel powder. Trying to speak and stuttering we argue over who gets to ride the tricycle to play the tag & chase game where you cannot move if the sun is behind clouds. As soon as the sun comes out you can
pedal as hard as your legs
are willing to go.
On a rooftop with the fences clear in view. We are talking much too fast and slowing it down to be heard. While dodgeball flies to our left. Recurring dream. Jaw sore from the time Anthony smacked me after a cheap shot I took out on him when I was 11. Never expecting a white guy as goofy as he was had moves. At the bell. Seconds before recess ended. After the student teacher left to poo and we started playing tackle instead of two hand touch. With the fences clear in view. On top of that roof. Pulling our teeth until
the nerves came loose like pink and purple and blood blue yarn threads we talked too fast and
came back around to
explaining to our parents how we got home
with half our teeth gone.
and their heads shaking. Our stories growing in complexity. If only to stem the left and right tide. Waking on the concrete. Dodgeballs still zipping beside our ears. The tricycle game flowing without us. Our noses bleeding and heads pounding. Not knowing what we did wrong. Our bodies in all out rebellion and our pockets full of our own teeth. Across the street the park is shining. The wooden jungle gym red painted is enormous and we fall into tantrums laying on the concrete because our sneakers are beneath the planks of the bridge. Where we left them. The day before.
where black pours out of light fixtures like oil. We are tiny people, children, our hands small as can be. Holding utensils. Our teeth falling out between our fingertips and the roots full size and twirling like pink lengths of taffy. We are at school again. The teeth are yellow and caked all over with caramel powder. Trying to speak and stuttering we argue over who gets to ride the tricycle to play the tag & chase game where you cannot move if the sun is behind clouds. As soon as the sun comes out you can
pedal as hard as your legs
are willing to go.
On a rooftop with the fences clear in view. We are talking much too fast and slowing it down to be heard. While dodgeball flies to our left. Recurring dream. Jaw sore from the time Anthony smacked me after a cheap shot I took out on him when I was 11. Never expecting a white guy as goofy as he was had moves. At the bell. Seconds before recess ended. After the student teacher left to poo and we started playing tackle instead of two hand touch. With the fences clear in view. On top of that roof. Pulling our teeth until
the nerves came loose like pink and purple and blood blue yarn threads we talked too fast and
came back around to
explaining to our parents how we got home
with half our teeth gone.
and their heads shaking. Our stories growing in complexity. If only to stem the left and right tide. Waking on the concrete. Dodgeballs still zipping beside our ears. The tricycle game flowing without us. Our noses bleeding and heads pounding. Not knowing what we did wrong. Our bodies in all out rebellion and our pockets full of our own teeth. Across the street the park is shining. The wooden jungle gym red painted is enormous and we fall into tantrums laying on the concrete because our sneakers are beneath the planks of the bridge. Where we left them. The day before.
Power Animals
Though born a jackal,
and some time as a penguin afterward, it is swell
to be back, laughing in the tall grass
waiting for a turn to eat
instead of cold flattened water and an egg to warm.
and some time as a penguin afterward, it is swell
to be back, laughing in the tall grass
waiting for a turn to eat
instead of cold flattened water and an egg to warm.
First Songs
"Even though your heart is kind of small,
seems like you're built for something strong."
"Even though you're kind of weak,
seems like you're built for me."
Nothing caught on fire.
No ceilings collapsed.
Jiffy cornbread mix lying next to the unhooked video card.
Circuits shorted and unplugged.
"You're too affectionate. Stop touching my face."
The time you were upset that I
remembered a moment apart and
crossed lines.
Pacman and eight bit cherry stalking
you and yours. Close enough to smell and scent
and half a mile away, fingertips inches from contact and
tooclosefor comfort, but near enough for good eyes.
Tearing up and tearing off to good distance. I will and do miss
you.
I will fuck it up again. The only person I cannot help is
me.
In all fairness, it was like that when I got it here. A
miracle
"...that we made it home last night."
Bad weather makes for
good opportunity if you
look at it correctly. No, not at all. Be polite. Johnny be good.
Staring at her across the street with her puppy
leashed and screaming at it to pee like it knew
what the fuck her words meant.
"I want to keep that for myself. That is what I call him,
the name I gave him and that is mine, okay?"
No peace for the restless, no home for the homeless,
no place for the obvious and the misstep.
Rage was one of the deadly sins
I've been told before on occasion
inside my head.
The apple still on top of the bricks on the porch beside the letters
that should have stayed inside the mailbox that fingers opened
against better judgement.
I miss you already
though I just left.
We need to do this again sometime
said the fish to the filter.
A rarity. "Never placid again." "Never acid again?"
"Never ask it again," was what I meant to say.
"I don't have much more than my body to give
so I give freely of myself. I'm a fucking billionaire inside."
Wanting to ask her if her hair does that on its own
after she showers or if its product and
brush teased volume.
I don't have a cold and no it is not a coke habit.
"I'm better than that." Left to the right brain snickering.
The only difference being Rapunsel didn't know
how good she had it
before a boy pulled on her hair
with all his might.
seems like you're built for something strong."
"Even though you're kind of weak,
seems like you're built for me."
Nothing caught on fire.
No ceilings collapsed.
Jiffy cornbread mix lying next to the unhooked video card.
Circuits shorted and unplugged.
"You're too affectionate. Stop touching my face."
The time you were upset that I
remembered a moment apart and
crossed lines.
Pacman and eight bit cherry stalking
you and yours. Close enough to smell and scent
and half a mile away, fingertips inches from contact and
tooclosefor comfort, but near enough for good eyes.
Tearing up and tearing off to good distance. I will and do miss
you.
I will fuck it up again. The only person I cannot help is
me.
In all fairness, it was like that when I got it here. A
miracle
"...that we made it home last night."
Bad weather makes for
good opportunity if you
look at it correctly. No, not at all. Be polite. Johnny be good.
Staring at her across the street with her puppy
leashed and screaming at it to pee like it knew
what the fuck her words meant.
"I want to keep that for myself. That is what I call him,
the name I gave him and that is mine, okay?"
No peace for the restless, no home for the homeless,
no place for the obvious and the misstep.
Rage was one of the deadly sins
I've been told before on occasion
inside my head.
The apple still on top of the bricks on the porch beside the letters
that should have stayed inside the mailbox that fingers opened
against better judgement.
I miss you already
though I just left.
We need to do this again sometime
said the fish to the filter.
A rarity. "Never placid again." "Never acid again?"
"Never ask it again," was what I meant to say.
"I don't have much more than my body to give
so I give freely of myself. I'm a fucking billionaire inside."
Wanting to ask her if her hair does that on its own
after she showers or if its product and
brush teased volume.
I don't have a cold and no it is not a coke habit.
"I'm better than that." Left to the right brain snickering.
The only difference being Rapunsel didn't know
how good she had it
before a boy pulled on her hair
with all his might.
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