the rose nebula

is not gold
is not valley
is not how I gazed in wonder
eager for the feast.

The perimeters of gray gardens grow wider.
Life’s not gaining speed but is going
faster and faster.

Minister and sweet, What be my fortune?

That was a minute that sped into grace-ers,
grazers tugging sod.
Each breath hung onto
the perch of the last, and every
heartbeat
was an acute pounding against ribs,
and tonight is different than last night and the night before,
not because everynight carries its own silent routine, but because
the glory gates and bungalows have been recycled and exchanged.
I don’t dare myself to beg you your oracle,
oh soothsayer of bark and bow, for
I can recall a fixed position,
although even pigeons fluttering low perimeters can alter feathers’ fate.

Twilight’s embrace:
and he wound feelers round my trunk, hounding all sap from the body, which erupted as sigh into choke and broadbone. Praying mantis, you are no predator! Take off your falsely woven gown!

From then till boldly stagnant afternoon, I labored through a gruesome stretch of sleep, taking mold, antiquity, and ice cold companions as standard.  No, a sidenote cannot sing!  Yes, a cannon may be fierce and grimy.  Eyes opened, gray and slimy; you know I sit in cider, and must elevate my feet.
I am often in this groggy awakening state.

Night before, I had slouched into a crater so to stare at the stars, like naked pieces of scarred flesh, a pockmarked face, and I wanted flight, I wanted palm to gather palm, I wanted
the incorruptible.

I felt locked inside a simple gesture,
uncertain that you should grant me sanctuary.
How lucky we are
that I don’t confuse safety
with a crucial loss of breath.

tired of asking

Drain me,
because I wanna be dry and
pressed between your pages.

Jupiter never looked so good.

You shook the water off your fur, approached me on all fours, with no tail to hide between your legs. I pushed you away, I kicked, I fought, but there was nothing to keep you away and nothing could ever really keep you.
Now I know why ghosts retire at day break.

Today I continued my horrible mood from the day before that had washed over from the day before that had drained off of the one before that, that had fallen to the ground with a big ker-plunk shatter shatter, that had formed long before in a molten crag of feigned lucidity.  I am shifting in and out of concern.

I tire of logic, Reason. I don’t have anyone’s viceroy inside of me. I have organs blood bones guts, and butterflies that hibernate until I need them the least; they somehow evade slashes when I cross my heart and hope to die.

I have no need for this modern day living. 

“Life rewards action.”

I’ve got a pissed off shadow

and I ain’t afraid of that man today
because his feet are splintered biscuits
his height is only length,
and it wilts with the sun

but when it’s dark, he’s everywhere
he’s sneaking in through my open mouth
and I’m choking on something that only wishes to defy me.

Your precious empty.

This shroud around my shoulders, shrieking the bone, gave reasoned doubt that I could survive me.  Any beggar of suites or gravedigger for meats sees to slicing a line from chin to belly button, hand under ribs and lift, without a collapse in pretense. Just carve out everything.

This future fish-cleaning points horizontally, lays flat as a line on my face, as cold as the curve of my hips and leather strapped tight across wire - and this is my skin, this is my home, although eventually nature will demand eviction.

the season for you and yours

I’ve been holding my breath for months. You bring it out of me. And to think, you used to be my pendulum.

uneven surfaces

Can’t shake the sense that
something is enveloping my body and trying to penetrate at every
breaking point.
Its voices are trumpets together
they put out the light, tuck me in,
raise a rubber knife to my chin.
So I riot when wriggle:
twist your tongue into my body, divide and discount me:

Cracking my jaw into tiny and solitary pieces and

I’ve got this claw scattering my brain into tough pieces.

Scurry, if you can!

I feel tangled in all of my appendages. But today, nothing could go wrong. I could slice my features, burrow my head in my neck, satchel a furry miser, recalibrate the wisest pharisee, and how my gullet would fail in fraying!

The departure does tend to rescind.  A torch of gummy soot and spray, to admit I wanted your slander of reality.

No janitor, I am not weary.  I thought about Jesus today. Maybe I had a dream of a bowed figure, nailed and crowned.  Maybe I found more enigmatic scripture in the meaning.  Maybe I was dowsing my eyes at paintings, curled valiant to the wall. Maybe I wasn’t sure where I was or how I had gotten there. Just spinning my carousel.

Itall led me to realize, I am in need of a new protection.

Golly, wag and scold.

I’m favoring a chest pump.

Felt a stormy gathering waffle a temple state.

Gallant meditation could set any

crooked wire straight

in its stead.

Gurus in season, but only in season:

a wickering skylark at the brook

can crumble, only briney.

Liver and crook, you dazzle with a cane I drew.

Click and limp and click again—

it’s more than syncopation

that sets my ears to their covetous burn.

A suddenly bursting season leaves some thaw

or bristle, freeze sat under

the bend, my lord—

Vanquish a julie death.

Venture nods at the appeal of scarborough.

Lazer tongues, the feat defied.

I admire any gnaw at the chain.

Losing

Rhythm

pieces by

pieces, yet

I’m smirking you golden,

with lafayette bubbling through gums.

Phantom lady does a

soulful-solemn dance—

you remember the growth of sassafras. Very simply,

more and                           more raw.

Javelin to court today, javelin to court.

my my mercy me, my lor’, my my mercy me :

Jekyll, kiss Hyde on a rock-beach,

your demeanor flailing.

I sat upon a giggly plum,

just to catch a graver.

Repeat loop loop and a token to spare:

I love you, over & over.