know that

i am

grass in your surroundings
surrender your spendings
that lips aren't trophies

Hieronymus Bosch Jokingly

lend me

your ear


your other

(the one that

faces left

when you smirk)

detachable vagina


intoxicated inward

eyeballs crossed over

i SEE you

with my bad eye

butterfly kisses tomorrow

today nothing
I do not believe that the revolution is finished.

Wrap me in the scarf of your culture,

& I'll pretend not to remember as much as I do.


How many glasses of wine on a Wednesday?

When the Shortest Poem is Not Short Enough...

I will then turn to the unwritten letter
Cut teeth on venery---

play at "marbles"

until the dogs come out

with their hands in knots.

Don't undo the knots,

but trace them back

to origins---

Maria, or Diego Velazquez.

I'll be there in my best dress

when you wake up


also---your face a slur (now) of this

in the sheets of plastic

you drew around me.


Look! a moving light---

the snowmen in the park

waving their arms

side to side---

I am full of love.
trees teething tether me to sea


At my own chosen speed---

fire, ice, a little vial of violet.


Someone planted a tree in the Georgia snow.
I unhinged it.


Is it still me, or am I feeling the aftereffects of my soul?

bold little weevil of giraffe

that's you of few and sprocketed beliefs
beleaved and so
My little loves---

I see you receding.


trauma tongues of flames
erase our surroundings


will just any shape suffice?

Currency Today

(...) disaster echoes transmitted from tooth
to heart to tongue
and out over the suave heads that nod
and condemn something
so simple as raising a broken glass to
twin suns pulsing in delicately hairy tombs.

my favorite image of you...

…between willing knees, oak sprouts wondrous sap--in amber
spring for tongue tapped-out--an acorn borne inside cupule;
the tenderness of womb
Almost in Vienna. Paid the money. Going to be "jade." Or silt. Would play the same game again if asked.

Europa Europa

Oh for a walk through Vienna with you.


Dear sinthome:

keep me.


Cold mornings are obsolete.

The fairytale recedes into

the thoughts of $.

no no vienna

The birthplace.


I am destitute without

the horses that

buzz like wires.


et. s.

have trailed


& deep between--

the given



(deep in sediment

of Dead Sea's

murky extracts)

all tender mollusks,

panting, parting, drinking

cracking shells

like wave & rock

against the backlash
Blake alone was, is, real.


Oh for that clear purity

of vision---

not for the piano

in the moving van,

tied to the ship

of "maybe later"...

braver than you

taller than you
slighter than you
primed for you
yet yet yet
slicker than you
sweeter than you
younger than view point
point five


Two jams---

both flavors

were "noodled."

We made down from silk,

elucidated what

I wasn't going to say.


If said, with a pinch,

what's better than

beta? What's better

than having been touched?

By us? Or you?


It's a pretty little sliver.
The bottoms of her feet
a fetishist's dream. Wrinkly soles,
moony cuticles, the sweet keratin


I took back

the gold.

Hagiography is a lost art.

"Two" or "need"

canceled the machine.

What's left of poetry

is one part free love,

one part allegorical ocean...


on their size,
puffballs have been
for everything
from golf balls
to sheep.

puer aeternus

Don't show me your ugly drugs---

a few grown-up things are still,

you know, "hot."

At the Mouth of

In wait are currents expected to suddenly seize up, causing synapses to roar, elegant fissures to balk at the split of cardinal points, numbers, and oceanic debris

Caught in the curl

endlessness etched

believe in belief

and be caught



confederate wound
arrests the shake
implicit overdose
ramakes our fast
come hither comma
I endorse you
dame you damn
climb dumb limber
adequate deneuve maybe
be be be
holden 2 caulF


Did best impression---

what's one hand
on my blouse

or two? Did worst vibe---

you carried it off

into the aether,

I took you back.

Would still do it again.



You can't move a horn, kaleidoscope a single
                  shard, or bronze horsemen through a valley
when you doze near Constance.

            Tiny, too.       And lime grinds an orchard fresco
under his brother's stillness, fast. Your lowest
      thought to carry darkness from a night
we had never stolen.


this month's model

Underneath a crust of violet
she emerges, merges, evens out

into an event:

"Come take back the silt---"
she says. Her hair's gold as

green bills. "You were always
beautiful---" he notes, in passing.


I won't be there for the coda.

Will you be?


living creatures began to appear in the painted water
snakes & alligators writhed out, swam through
which had been my plan with the painting all along

The faded neighborhood---

a "hymnal" of five colors.

I want it to be in contact with me, so I elucidate its better qualities.

And what
can we say
of the gardenias

that bloom

out of the garden,

overrunning their courses?


Red, blue, white. Black, green.
Blue, purple, silver. Gold, gray.
Orange, blue, yellow, white, red.


(this ambient line will repeat itself, as if on a billboard of dust....)

Yes, please

My arms
are sharp
to scratch you with


anonymous poems are fundamentally


beautiful zones

insanity strikes at midnight

half-sleep detoxing from reality
mixing bowl dream state opening every single pore
he said "the answers will be revealed in question"
she questions a real significance shot back to the beginning...

Catholic School

Poe's bite marks pass notes in the hallway
Like two hands to mystery the cryptic zoo

Your mouth was sleep's locker
Evangeline I remember you well

Last Might

You sent me this text

message: "Good might to you too."
Afterwards he said, "Pass me the scotch

tape, your leg is loosely and bluely

breaking off."

from "Cryptic Zoo"

Fly through lilac gong
tuned to a sparrow’s
no, a swallow’s kiss

In line

I opened my identification papers.

Therein was a photo of a young woman, maybe 17. Her photo gave me instructions.

Understand that there never was a you in her.

Poe's mouth was considered beautiful.

And then, of course, my leg with the bite marks.


You brushed my blouse at zero---
two hands---
reticulate the

obvious mystery.

So comely never wishes. Staring at the ocean, in its reversal. Some, in the slant of sleep, will swallow us, before we have a chance (a chance! abandon chance woman!) to go back to the zone.

You bursared my blouse at one---

to tell it in "advance"---

one willow, a breath from a sunless seacrest.


I won't tell you my new name. (Unless I do.)


In the suburbs of Eden,

your mouth prettily zero-shaped

by a fresh batch of peppercorns.


morning (slur a singular / particulates make meaning
morning (slur a singular / particulates make meaning
morning (slur a singular / particulates make meaning
morning (slur a singular / particulates make meaning
morning (slur a singular / particulates make meaning
[bedroll bedrool bedroll bedrool bedroll]

Hölderlin's De Lorean

A disorder that involves both mind and body,
Pocket full of posies. They hear him, these voices,
Gull-wing doors with fiberglass foolish grins.

I'll be there at your place at 3am
Screw me up dismantling glances

The Proposal

"I'm composing marriage vows. I plan to leave them on my husband's girlfriend's voicemail. I write: 'At first you were a light in a dark time… As times brightened and darkened again, you remained constant and needed, a spring sun. Does the sun delight in what it warms? But I aspire to be more than a grateful recipient of your warmth. I will be to your sun a second sun, and transmit back all the light you've given me, so that we can give not out of need, but out of delight, endlessly.' I call the number and listen to her voice on the answering machine. Oh, that accent! … I can't marry this woman, it's hopeless."

Let's Say

Within this dance two bodies become three at the gate of teeth and sand. A forgetful rose tangos alone on shell flagstone as signs of an impending decline appear on slivers from an obsidian dome
—under this static gods will roast!

(…the rose wilts under an observatory’s glare)

From desert mount to sea crest a screen will be drawn. Every thread saturated with the color most likely to succeed in representing an experience that is rare, unique, and available to all. Let’s say this color is the spiral of a drone or the spine of a bee as it enters the hive to find supine the essence of yellow and spice. A fragment of eyed fragrance combing riverside bloom to salt nettle dredged from memory’s vine. The aforementioned spiral will curve outwards following sound ribboned in dust blue with mauve calligraphies resisting.

Morning time with a bee on my shoulder taking in the scene

Excerpt from "Limboville," an unfinished novel

...Pearls of aspirin, chocolate bullets. Separate maladies in the time of cold weather.

It’s bad to want The Loved One. His name is Lord to me. Pressed into this world like a Roosevelt dime. Candles burn and I see him behind a splash of starlings. The Loved One does this deliberately. Wandering. He is a kite in the clouds. I am the good sailor of the lost afternoon.

Year of the Goat slingshots in to re-build itself. Year of the Want. I wanted to put my hand on him like a cameo. He is mine at dinner. I am constructed to have him. I am an accomplished study; I know my Queen’s thigh bone.

Slowly, slowly we are spinning upwards.

I am equaled in time and stillness only by the willow.

Impressions received by radio wave. His favorite lemon-colored, tie-dyed scarf.

I dedicated my summer nights to the excitement of his silvery star. I cast myself down outside his house. Always at his feet.

I knew his symptoms. I sent a whole pound of black licorice. I say that by way of embarrassment. Stealing, then exchanging these days. What a body! The “yes” I said in vain to it. Chocolate covered cherries given on a million occasions. Oh, white Nike. In an instant my mind is calling, and I want to huddle him in my arms and jump. I think I can handle it...

Coma: Nine Dreams

1. sour fluid eats at breast(1) --acidic tannins

2. damoiselle--black & blue

3. where child now sun--a treacherous yellow--python-galled(2)

4. of sea-self mirrored in chrysalis

5. a boudoir(3)--garden of beds

6. one small nerve meter--ticking

7. books--hand-sewn--have narrowed this spine

8. fingertips--puzzle of skin--secrets inlaid

9. with something inexplicable(4) --spectre-eyed


1. crests of pink star fruit: sand dollar disks

2. just the birds are silent with surprise--Blixa Bargeld on Total
Eclipse of the Sun

3. calmly laid: as in her ermine & German croon

4. briefly fills skin with the scent of freedom

All the stories

I’ve ever told inside poems are drafts
To bigger lies so I’m giving up.

I’m going to be
a trapeze artist, a snake

charmer’s armpit, an experi-

Experimenter, a chemist whose sheer
Commitment to crystal growth

Makes contaminants bloom
Continents inside test tubes blue.

beta bug

Asleep while waking
I whistle---

a tune, for you---

(&, hence, for me).


miniature eyes eggs
watch me
from the television

what is perversion