mercurial license of body a
float inside the door your
outer ear fainter than a dis
tant boat clouded in as
h fingered lid chews

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A prison, a handful of sparrows flying while I drink a
cup of coffee at the cafe.
Who has forgotten?  Who has spoken to a youth who
will save a life?

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                a creed
                in lurch mode 

                             lumping

          any lecher willing to come
          in for a pass

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where is the marriage muzzle when you need it most?
coast to coast nihilist in search of midnight missives
gypsy rings carved out of tree bark, don’t be sorry
for never being what your mother wanted, the ospreys
are here now, the hard part is over, thrown bored-eyed

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I can dream being into another body, yes, but not this
you. the screen light, once more, a fission of text.

a continuance. I mean to say something to you, as you are
not dead, and I am in a body that I know knows

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She burned corsets, stockings and tasty fetish gear as she waited for her climaxes. Just passing time. Just passing time. They misunderstood her experiments for an elastic insanity.

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Going for glory ain’t as easy
as it used to be, back when
Evel Kneivel broke his bones
for you, thrilling your hides
with goosepimples of death

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Fuck the rich. They are the assholes of power.
An asshole is an asshole and not a sword.
Their tight grip on our destiny is dissolving.

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the people arguing
and the people asleep on benches
and some saw it coming
and thought they could fix things or hide
maybe escape

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From Clinton Community Garden
to South Street—I put up
revolutionary green propaganda:
SAVE THE GARDENS on fences.
Press flesh, spreading the word.

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in the blade-mirror of god’s dagger
​a cul-de-sac makes itself visible

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as the cloud that seemed out of focus separates into a couple
thousand  gulls hiding their yellow beaks under a wing,
constantly spiraling without a visual center,
​knowing waters not  a mirror

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How she decants herself, abandoning the priests’ pressing: the whirl of soft yellow petals opening leaves me breathless, form refusing limit.  I clip the spent blossoms with shears, collecting their orange hips in an enameled bowl. All the stories are old, syllabaries of lauds told.

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Invent and invent to make ourselves
guffaw, then we concocted a new
kind of government, a grief project,

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What kind
of tree is that?
What kind of tree
was that?

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Stevedore smarts
as exodoi tar
as sufficed ocean
named Eu(-)
gratis wolf fugue tacit poem, one
glebe rep udder burden won, Eros

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I am honestly more interested in the vivid life of the
village than in the erotic sculpture – at a certain
point however, in a hotel room, my hair catches fire.

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After they’d had at the indigenous,
they set upon the endogenous.
They offered never-before-seen chemistry
with a will unbridled by consequences.

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Diego trudged over and stood still below
the boy, now the king of that hill.
Diego began to make faces for the boy.
And the boy became giddy, so much lighter.
Even forgetful, perhaps.

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I was picturing the perfect hammock as an antidote to the mercurial endowment of the speaker’s eyes that skittered toward targets of greed. I saw firm feeling held between strong trees.

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sam wanted to know why i’d bitten
the hands off of all of my action figures
so that they couldn’t hold lightsabers and guns

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ready to entertain kidneys and liver, 
that’s 
our girl. some days 
she goes by Sunny.

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The world was wild, wicked, vile
And though complicit was he
In this cavalcade of carnage
He slumbered soundly on
Free of any guilt.

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When people give poetry a bad name :
disjointed words from actions inane,
when people give poetry a bad name!

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if not for those children
playing war games
tearing off tentacles and petals
rehearsing explosions
​memorizing marches

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when you realize the air
you’ve been breathing for decades
doesn't smell right

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Tomorrow Pasternak dies
in Peredelkino, where on his grave
we spent our youth
reciting   "August,"
surrounded by quiet men in dark suits ––
​they almost liked the lines.

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I shuffle the deck
and the world lays flat.
The bluer the sky the darker
astronomy becomes.

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Channel Five flashes footage of my house
The newscaster’s tone not quite as condemning
as the word NIMBYs he keeps repeating
Referring to us who object to the bill
that wrote a half-way house for recovering drug addicts

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a big black savage dog
is chained to the axle
of a rusty Ford
in the overgrown front lawn
of a dilapidated house

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Recall with startling clarity,
the hue of a private tattoo.
I almost spelled your name again,
fingers tracing foreign flesh.

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O solemn vow
beyond the pulpit
            of a slow lifetime
of rows and rows and blows

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You need to know; you cannot condescend.
Reciprocity delineates
the limits you can test. Remove the mask.
Make yourself what love obliterates.

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Your mother performed
Absence so you do not know
Limits to desire
Whenever you face the loss
Of dolphins a void hammers

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In my death I meander through mirrors that reflect the void of my face. My eyes dissolve into black holes that contain multitudes of nothing.

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one time he said men will use
kite strings to decapitate other men
                          riding motorcycles

no, you’re fucking with me         but it is
possible invisible strings can slice clean

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The messenger burned out and crashed.
Once a quick-silver bullet
Screaming into the sky,
“Listen to me! I have so much to tell you!”

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