Koalacanth Gets The Gold Knob

"That one looks like a fish," Mother said.

2009-07-30T14:41:00.000-07:00

The Formless Is An Operation

2009-07-27T11:05:00.000-07:00

Avida Dollars During the Spanish Civil War

2009-07-15T22:45:00.000-07:00

View of Mount Analogue

2009-07-15T22:44:00.000-07:00

Lupa's Hidden Treasure, or The Lost Nipple of Artemis

2009-04-04T09:58:00.000-07:00

Too Fast For Love

2008-12-11T11:39:00.000-08:00

“¿Quién es? ¿Quién es?”

2008-09-12T20:25:00.000-07:00

I Like Only You

A bull races by my side, steadily. You might kill your man with a blessing. These five strange heads of myself, Diplocaulus, shot at Pedro Maxwell’s. Twelve cars with a hundred straight arrows stung about with an air of utter discouragement, like a dozen buttered loud Fin whales. Coved with rage you manifested all creatures. I would have leapt shoulder first on the afternoon of the seventh seizure. “¿Quién es? ¿Quién es?” Wind came during the enmity and shame, withdrawing from family and friends. Unable to make any return to the barn I saw a tapestry grow from the dark woods. It was homely killing your uterine brother. Like fire, or gas residing in the body, how is it that you lived after being dismantled and spread across their lawns? I heard them talking one night with my father.

Ride Cyclo

Because the river is in search of stragglers, there is a sense of envy in other men. When I judge you, simple thief, the bark of the sombrero will speak within the free movements of the beards. We will meet again and you will see things my way. Our horses and dogs were crushed by falling potatoes in Aurora. That's what they want us to think. “You let them go?” asked the atomic armor. Let them go. An albino’s testicles captured in a box boldly declaring war against the British. For my little Glykeria the flag is fried at half-mast. I looked across the boulevard and thought for a second that a stork had slid two white tiles under Geronimo's skull. They only know what you break not what you fix, and one gesture from this small man huddling in the corner can resemble a party.

Images to Be Interpreted

2008-05-10T13:41:00.000-07:00

The Guardian of Good

2008-02-05T00:40:00.001-08:00

The Preconditions For Social Revolution Already Exist

2007-12-15T16:42:00.000-08:00

To Be A Lover

2007-11-01T18:54:00.000-07:00

Oblivion

2007-09-17T19:07:00.000-07:00

It ripens it wears down

The girl is afraid of

The power of the magic stuff

Pavement is breaking my bones

A star glued to the limerent

She smokes there in silence

I lose you I track you down

This morning I escaped

With Ulysses’ cadaver

Tied to my ankles

Like a dozen furious birds

I remain within the wall

The maze of our dreams grows

A sea-eyed God roams over my skin

With his golden street beasts

We grow up unamazed

But always underlined in blue

Sometimes a Cigar is Just a Cigar

2007-09-16T15:06:00.000-07:00

Chaotic Provocateur

2007-07-12T07:38:00.000-07:00

1.

I was in one of those forests in another body under the earth and on the sun planted in the masculine word facing the sea!

I was heaving the oracle stained with garden gates running through the world’s pierced coons I’m wild I’m new surrounded by flies!

Water whispers into the barricade ready for blooming flesh birds of night bathers dancers rivers steam!

I was standing shaking every mountain red a shoulder masked with scarabs desire knows labyrinth hands!

I was in one of those forests in the oil of my head in another gash in a pocket picked where a lonely gun knows no one is visible!

You passed through the sweet ache with leaves individual as my life made from delinquents!

We control the wheels!

2.

At the X an unmarked space enters your white body like a solitary woman!

I saw your armor through Oaxaca the night eating a siren in a path your tears climbing and descending!

Stop the earth stiff jaw face to face two bodies are at night oceans with wheels in each drink without moving sing without shoulders without a man once a child!

One by one leaves crows rock your stone language passion viewed against the living night belches devoutly!

Contemplate my burial my rough flesh color my iron mittens my long airy veins!

At the X a mouth in spite of your hand your chest a yellow sky a black earth an X made by two legs walking a lane made by dreams eaten!

Let the flies swarm! Let the dust fly!

3.

I am not the one looking for the one cyclone time raised out of anyone who says cries wild!

I am not the one who says has given up crying through the blizzard the half-eaten out utterly boring small of anywhere gone down flapping lightly against her sea shoulders!

I am not the one who never met her pulled the knife from the Cyprus other oceans other seditious moth eating masks other bigger and bigger clothes can love like this!

Heraclitus here I was from the top of here I have just seen all the nights like animals in me before a large cliff held up by my five fire arms!

Before I die I want to remember the bruises for a millions years the black gold yellow dancing that I hated I hated everyone that I told the truth!

4.

Lightening coming home all night day I cut my boredom in an experiment I am the driver the open door the gate the umbilicus where the belly the ocean gets lost under the dirt!

Rooted in plates draped in sheets stacked in drawers hidden in revolvers in their big eyes there is enough hate no love no love each color is an imaginary letter a numbered kiss creation of consciousness!

Further away you are we are they are further than I can tell let me open my mouth I can’t touch I can’t touch without your cut your keyboard your clock!

On the mountain I hear a heat wave decades later facades of buildings tomorrow I can almost touch the ticking yesterday even if the hounds come back from death I want to go backwards busted busted clock!

Just say my name spell it write it send it smash it this will be enough hardly gunshots hardly childhood hardly life hardly!

This will be enough!

In A Better World

2007-06-13T07:26:00.000-07:00

Going Nowhere, or The Way of The World

2007-05-10T08:51:00.000-07:00

Aquatic Conspirators, Parts 3-6

2007-04-19T16:50:00.001-07:00

Aquatic Conspirators, Parts 1-2

2007-03-18T06:05:00.000-07:00

A Tower Of Guts

2007-03-05T19:24:00.000-08:00

21.

Under the gas mask

Taking the shape of red leaves

A parade of women

Bomb the sculptor with star shells

We love you like chimneys

22.

Two lamps burn bare breasts

Suddenly her hand becomes

A tower of guts

Two lamps burn in your cheekbones

Cunt creature not of this world

23.

I am not in this:

Two distant fingers tilling

The fresh moustache field

A long punch from your tail

Shakes the anaconda’s pants

24.

I hide alphabets

Between the sun and her teeth

Firemen are priests

Sunken below lordly heads

Hyacinth curls melt milk mills

25.

The cold sick stillness

Love and mad pain’s kindled crash

I am like a wave

Bursting in the gorgeous sky

Megaphones rage tiny stars

Violence Without Pain

2007-01-11T19:20:00.000-08:00

16.

I can hear you through

These October headlights

Show me the axe dance!

The beard squeals at our death

And glances back on our love

17.

Out past our neighbors

Beneath hats that are living

A mammoth erupts

When our lips open we are lizards

When our mouths open we are smoke

18.

While not transparent

I try to float through your hands

I am coming in

Pushing back into the womb:

Coiled fish and blue lightening

19.

House against the waves

I could lick all your fingers

Backwards and forwards

Rattles my listening head

The tunnel you are is black

20.

I am hungry for

A kind of yellow mushroom

Remember your hands

The car the axe and myself

Like violence without pain

Internally Yours

2007-01-08T19:17:00.000-08:00

11.

Close your eyes and open:

I am internally yours

Walls within locust words

Close your eyes and open this grave

The architects built my life

12.

Live here for a while

Geometrical figure

Lying mouth to mouth

Upside-down the piano growls

A little milk in your eye

13.

The snake rising from

Immense forests of secrets

I was thinking of her

And asked you to spend the night

Falling into the closing mouth

14.

Empty coffins sweat

What were you escaping from?

Chaotic lightening

No one will notice your hair

Emerging from the white chill

15.

If the world is real

Swallow their throats until they gag

Surrounded by night

The architects use God’s ghost

It’s been years since your genial bed

Broke Down Engine Blues

2006-11-07T21:37:00.000-08:00

Tree With Scrotum

2006-08-08T19:10:00.000-07:00

Clarence John Laughlin Says

2006-07-25T19:32:00.000-07:00

"My central position, therefore, is one of extreme romanticism -- the concept of reality as being, innately, mystery and magic; the intuitive awareness of the power of the unknown -- which human beings are afraid to realize, and which none of their religious and intellectual systems can really take into account. This romanticism revolves upon the feeling that the world is far stranger than we think; that the reality we think we know is only a small part of a total reality; and that the human imagination is the key to this hidden, and more inclusive, reality. This position is now completely out of fashion."

Otesánek

2006-07-20T16:39:00.000-07:00

Industrial Mausoleum

2006-06-21T19:02:00.000-07:00

The Witch's Castle

2006-06-16T11:16:00.000-07:00

Anatomy Is Destiny

2006-06-06T15:04:00.000-07:00

Fenrir's Bottom Jaw, or The God of Silence

2006-05-16T16:40:00.000-07:00

Sherman Alexie Remixes

2006-03-12T11:25:00.000-08:00

Fires

The night my father recanted

years of life and used the pieces

to build breakfast, my mother tore my

eyes and mouth from my head at 3 a.m.

Wide with fire, she told me

we were leaving

and would never gather ash.

We drove to a reservation under the gates

of our sins, and she tumbled down

her life with my father,

the man who took

our furniture from its grave

and sent it to Colville.

To take penance in the

un-burial, she told me

he sacrificed our whiskey. She planned

everything for my father. And in his

hands, breakfast and all,

the house we had chosen for a foundation.

[remix of Sherman Alexie’s “House Fires” which appears in his book The Business of Fancydancing]

Poor Mirrors

You drink these mornings alone and nothing

can be woken; you forgive the last

light bill, swallow bees from the can

beside the bed; warm strangers sleeping

on the floor go home too easy.

To be no one on moist pavement, only

lightly worried about familial tastes

more concerned with how to open the fridge.

You walk alone with nothing to do, wandering

within a country that revolves around rooms

without color or milk. Tasting the mirror

you found in the rancid rain, the walls seem closer

and you open the fridge again the right way

and you can never find the fridge again

for a beer, you find only the trash and drink it.

These holes are too familiar.

[remix of Sherman Alexie’s “Poverty of Mirrors” which appears in his book I Would Steal Horses]

MegaDeath

Down past the television in the shack

where the tracks keep the tin walls

breathing, God dreams of 1976

and the tattered couch left in the snow,

bouncing off the fourth quarter, falling

back to the corner where my father throws

glass across the room like a train

between field goals, shattering past

the upright. My father’s roar, suspended

by sound, stands eagle-armed

and carries him over its shoulders like a

platform, as he whistles for God and 1976

to pick him up, to leave this lover behind.

[remix of Sherman Alexie’s “Sudden Death” which appears in his book The Business of Fancydancing]

A Beaver's Horn

2006-01-20T19:09:00.000-08:00

A wrinkled castle

Where I walk out to meet you

This will be our war

It never leaves my head

Our hands scattered over writing

This body of mine

Throbbing like a beaver’s horn

Windows fly open

I have waited in darkness

I have an unblinking eye

The dead are left alone

Covered with the fallen snow

A thousand trees mate

Like two tigers drowning in

The house of the one I loved

I live in a world

Of rain and intermissions

Dull from the blackness

It is hard to see your face

Through the wet hair of the beast

To burst into flames

Stone a hawk with your bouquet

Map its short cold cries

White rocks settle on the page

Each scream seems proof of your love

When I am gone this

Trojan horse of urine and

Feces will watch you

You don’t understand but you

Open your mouth like a toad

Since I am alone

My throat slams in my body

Like a finger in white junk

The maple leaves are falling

With one eye open for dear life

I look back at her

And think I see a horse

Moving her cold lips

Stumbling across a field

Like a burn from a skillet

When I walk with you

There is nothing out there but

Column after column

Embers of a fire blow by

This bedrock of stone guts

10.

I cross these mountains

Through razors and sperm and whales

Unbuttoning your mouth

You lose your voice in the dark

Print of a passing pitchfork

I Have Seen The Sun

2005-12-07T19:29:00.000-08:00

I have seen the sun
underneath your palm

You are holding a gun
between your toes

Between your lips
I am inspecting
a mop

We are talking, your mouth
is the back of a salmon

Don't go

Anne Sexton Patchwork Poems

2005-12-06T18:34:00.000-08:00

Moist, moist,
I feel the skull

All the cocks
eating his toes

we swallow
the smell of a lover

I am aging
like popcorn

*

The wound is open
It makes me laugh

I open the mouth
wave after wave

Your head is what I remember

*

when your hands are cut off
we leave them on the shore

if I make love
I am a motor
popped out like jelly rolls

Good morning life
the buildings burn

[patchworks created from Anne Sexton's The Death Notebooks]

I stand at this window
warmer than oil or water

I will crouch down
a mouth like a cup

the doors open
I say hello

I lie on the floor
with his enormous misshapen mouth

a great hole in the earth
as if it were an ugly eye
as soft and as delicate as
the lips moving, mumbling,
blowing its way out of the snow.

Far off, in the field,
It was alone
blown up, at last

[patchworks created from Anne Sexton's Live or Die]