She will always be hungry
speared on a setting sun twisting
Small machine is not a trouble
Gigantic measurement of your phallus
as in a squirrel that chases you
down the alley
on a power line
chattering angrily all the way
Relax and have fun with Poker
Small male device is not a trouble
Become a real man increase your aggregate
and then maybe because you are awake
steal the snow from her body
add more hard flesh to your package
We were all covered over
in ice here once
All the grasses and all the trees
All the winds and all the storms
had to stand still
for centuries
I like to think of the pressure
around everything back then
The limits of rootedness
Here here here here here
and where the depth of everything
leads in such thick weather
In a hot room at the end of december
the monsters have found us yet again
In a hot room that’s nothing but walls
my breath escapes me
and swirls around rusted bars in windows
hissing and whispering to me
The face of this warehouse rusts before your eyes
The face of this warehouse grins like noises
in the walls
The face of this warehouse soaks you with voices
and leaves you to stand gape-open
heavy
before it
I’ve always been curious about this spot
and stopped on my walk home to
gaze up bricks into black maw windows
open full of hidden screams onto the street
It’s so much taller
than you are
Somehow more awake
The water and my mind have both settled down
Into perfect stillness.
Sun and moon shine bright in it.
At night I see in the surface
The enormous face of my old familiar moon.
I don’t think you’ve ever met the source of this reflection.
All shrillness fades into the sound of silence.
But now and then a puff of mist floats across the mirror.
It confuses me a little
But not enough to make me forget to forget my cares.
I want to make some noise
covered in animals
I want to skim the forest floor
closer to the pulse and the pain
exploding in my blood and
hunting to clear my head
When you hunt clarity
the edges smudge
you hunger wracked in a silence
too big for you
Look at the quiet falling
all around the body you’ve
wept Watch the sun fall
on your head
Covered in animals
and even then not in yourself
for Clem
When the kids are asleep
i forget the beatings
I forget how you
took that sleep from me
and filled it with monsters that growl
under my wake
Stepfathers should always
stand outside the magic circle
stepping on the edges
making sure it doesn’t draw tighter
into a noose
They are not horned beasts
dragging off the princess mother
into dark bedrooms
that trouble dreams
and neither were you
Like me you were a man
fighting not to slip down
all those holes in yourself
Round with no center
Round going down in the middle
Oh honeys i cling to the edge
Oh babies some days i know the secret
of levitation
Maybe you were too blind
Maybe diabetes took your sleep
Maybe you never realized how heavy it is
to sculpt men from the precipice
to sing something bright in these
meadows blazing with rust
1 2 8.00% kiss you
2 2 8.00% xanax poems
3 1 4.00% der golem 1915
4 1 4.00% i could kiss you
5 1 4.00% lace a joint with xanax
6 1 4.00% movie nurse hot adul sleep
7 1 4.00% painful jaundice
8 1 4.00% pink xanax
9 1 4.00% pitbull ffucking
10 1 4.00% poems about walking at night
11 1 4.00% poets are assholes
12 1 4.00% pop poem sound
13 1 4.00% popping xanax
14 1 4.00% postmodern poetry humorous
15 1 4.00% self-immolation
16 1 4.00% title_38
17 1 4.00% tv phone themes chess *.gif
18 1 4.00% while i’m away poem
19 1 4.00% xanax light pink
20 1 4.00% xanax yellow stripe pill
The heart pauses at the flicker
of a disposessed lighter
Halfway through
supple mendicant
the only evidence for which
is definition
That we could imagine
some sorta simultaneity
is proof of the rhetoric
Showing you my scars
of periods my bleak semi-
colons
Everywhere you would ever want to pause
is in my skin
Is this thing on
doused with bandwidth
is this thing on
waving around on what’s under us
is this thing on
or is it plastic
borrowing body from
a threnody of enabling
Will it work if i shake it
if i slice that sentient air
will it work if i shake it
or are we all too wracked by now
will it work if i shake it
will it always be plastic
stealing solvency from
my history crumpled and melting in the sun
How about i kick it
careen it off into space
how about i kick it
thread it through with worksong beats
how about i kick it
kick the plastic out
and give it its own eyes
so i can look like myself for once
Bathed in ribbons of flesh
the skin of light falling over her eyes
organs spilling fanning out over snow
She’s a clean you can’t comprehend
pray you’re never that clean
A bird you found in the woods once
feathers spread flush with the ground
sulphur blackening the wind
Ribbons of her enemies
trickling down her chin
tracing themselves down to
agnostic hips
She’ll dance to every song
you ever fucked to
and every song returns her to you
whole–Gulls scramble shrill on the river
hungry throughout slate clouds
The blush
The rose
The rash
It’s grown this big
I turn food over in my mouth
My speech is crowded–there’s
crushed skulls oh walls of skulls
winding down a still corridor
The flat and
The glass
It’s dimmed here
The workers have stopped in
my belly
and only ape your posture
as you stare back at them
Vague swimming through milk
silt clinging to gills splintered
aiming mimeograph
arguments in mud endure silk
rudely-nice with disproportion
you thwart
your throat
over hot cola old locals swing
vagrancy twine in the depths
of ache-full udders
This online software will convert your media
from one format to another
I like laser_trill.au
stuffing myself with sound
I force dry tobacco
into a paper tube
Black cats rubbing stars
out of my legs
They’re talking to mathematics
trying translations as a tongue-bath
I’d love to help you
with your conversion marketing
in the gray rain all the streets
rubber and twist off into shine
i never thought i’d need
so many people
sitting in their cars across our neighbors’
treelawn watching me pass out
To the extent we are being observed
detective eyes slipping over my curls, curves
my hair a corkscrew angel’s halo
The truth is I either fear little or everything
and I turn in on myself, spinning flesh
I smoke the flowers and I eat the capsules
and I turn myself into myself
The transgressions
The transgressions
The transgressions
Maybe I’ve declared war on symmetry
and weight the left, lighten the right
True knowledge of the Image is
that there is no center to it
or that the center has collapsed
under thought’s murdering babble
and I’ll be right here if you need me
because you will need me