PORTRAIT OF THE WORLD (AS A FRAMED INDIVIDUAL)

battery powers attack justifies
rape submits control escapes
abandon gathers force builds supremacy
endangers freedom dissolves worship
denies mutation persists evolution
creates invention parts history wakes
dreaming realizes action fronts revolution
sparks induction starts generations
move mountains weather storms
ignite fires destroy cities spread
wealth corrupts hearts pound chests
trap secrets kept under mined
resources assist nations exchange
plunder soothes criminals blackmail
attorneys distort perception reveals
exposure frames innocents accept battery
charges power runs attack multiplies justice
enforces rape requires submission permits
control modifies escape allows abandon disperses
gathering generates force activates building
reinforces supremacy boosts endangered
wildlife freedom fights dissolution
spreads worship placates denial weakens
mutation engenders persistance strengthens
evolution branches creation begins invention
eases parts assemble history passes waking
starts dreaming fictions realize truth action
perpetrates fronts ebb revolutions unfold
sparks shower induction shocks start cars
generate rhythm moves crowds mountain
high weather condenses storms develop
ignition electrifies fire lights destruction
levels cities stain spreading catches
wealth burdens corruption decays hearts
labor pounding open chests contain
traps secure secrets poison kept airtight
under water mines collapse resources
enable assistance lends nations unify
exchange students plunder information
soothes curiosity criminals collaborate
blackmail entreats attorneys dismiss
distortion prevents perception illuminates
revelation focuses exposure shows
framed convicted innocents helpless
accepting inevitable battery charges

THE WAY YOU BLINKED.

Let's say my heart was a gourd.
I lifted it
and poured it empty
into your gaping mouth.
The way you took it from my hands,
staring me in the eyes,
this intrigued me.

The way you held it in your palms,
your gaze unwavering,
this made me smile.

The way your tongue licked the sides,
how it arched into and lapped its interior
...your hands cupped
...your grin
...your face lowered
your eyes holding me,
this made me burn.

The way your hands relaxed.
The way they fell to your hips.

The way the gourd hit the floor.
The way the gourd hit the floor.

The way the few fragments
busily rocked back and forth.

The way you blinked.

RECITED MEMO

If I could rewind to when
my father stayed at the clinic
in Marblehead to be lifted down
from breaking off berserk

from alcohol, I would flow
backwards and record each word
uttered in hysteric, assured tones;
he talked as if trapped.

Of course he was;
plate glass,
smoked rain,
iris, retina, lens.

Window pane.

THE LAST PICNIC

Dare to tell
the truth

and you

they will
crucify.

Within this
equation

mixed with

deceit lies
the lie.

In silence it begins
to fertilize.

Returned

from beyond
shed of flesh

the naked dead
walk again.

Mistaking our saviour

for someone else
the cycle begins

anew. Keep the truth
to yourself

Share with no one

All eyes rise
to skies so blue.

RETURN TO SENDER

Frozen in abject terror
Flowing through imbedded roots
Skin curling blackened away
Reveals red raw ruin
Where once was a mask
Never a face
Feel the wind for
The very first time
Then, season the silence
With a sigh,
Cut out your own tongue,
And hand it to the head of state,
On a white napkin,
On a china plate.
Bow halfway with feigned good grace;
This has explained such gifts
As a voice are a waste.

RECYCLED & ABUSED

Usurper. Contaminant.
Continues the domain
by the minute of the ant.
Certain sovereignty.
Magnified to burn away
self reflective memories.
We divide and turn astray.
Tyrants are replaced far away.
Live each day a mutant.
Beware the sun.
Each thumb is a man.
Being an army of one.
Try to understand
Any world leader isn't dumb.
Rather, it is we who are,
I mean mute. Like ants,
industrious. In peace
we rust, trust me,
they're not all like us.
What am I saying?
You tell me. Usurper.
Contaminant. Commandant.
But make it brief.
You got a ship to run.
...or do you?
(What is it you want?)

WE

The insect's soul shed of its carapace.

The hive's former inmates set free.
Power granted to the naked wolf.

The holders of the serpent's key.
Lost shepherds of the lonely trees.

Walkers with the birds and whales.
The tellers of all conceivable tales.

Sowers of the seeds of chance.
Hoping for an opportunity to dance.

One way ticket to a fantasy.
A neat trick to bypass reality with.

A debt exacted for extremes.
Millipedes freed into segments.

Centuries of centurions dreaming dreams.
The guardians of safely locked away remembrance.

The soft face of a spider.
The smooth skin of an oak.

The sharp teeth of a tree.
The eyes of a silver mine.

The fingers of quartz.
The oxygen mask of a fish.

Thus freed the soul of Animus
Mundus implodes into we.