LISTENING

I know you'll think I'm crazy but I'm here to tell you
There's no need to worry anymore about it
That whole end of the world nonsense
From the Rapture to 2012 and who knows
When it'll end (paranoid mindset we'd all
Comfortably settled into) it don't matter
Anyhow either way what we think
Because the world ended already
Not that long ago actually
As the detritus settles
To complete itself the
Sentence falls apart.

A GENESIS

Stranded in a realm strangely familiar
I shield my gaze with my hand and a groan
Escapes. A soft light begins to arc up
And over the horizon, defying
The black logic of this infinite plane
Splitting the universe into two halves.
There are no horizons. Fused with the air,
The cruelest reward for purpose: despair
And total silence, as my voice that laughs
Is snatched away to another refrain
And returned into meltdown as crying.
In fetal parody, my cup offered,
The dawn desiccates my chances for home.
The dormant seed teaches me: NO DEATH HERE

DESIGILED

This does not represent any known thought structure
before or alongside it. For one, conditions
would have to be replicated along all levels
and they're not. The colors of my eyes are known to change.

From grayer hazel to a bluer green, it depends on the weather.
Outside, the howling increases through the droning wind
and I can only imagine the creatures stalking the countryside.
It will remain eternally night now that the stars have locked down

In the Universifreeze, Spirit dislocators sent out tangrams
featuring lucid maleficent vibrations tuned to geomagnetic north.
The results are world spun out of control in a frenzy of lust and
battle rage. The echoes still ring throughout the denizen's heads

Spread across the surface of the earth like a tapestry of dandelions,
thoughts captured by the winds of time and tossed sporadically across
the land. Every morning like a parade of gathered pigeons they spread
upward to blot out the sky, shifting shadows into nervous mountains.

DEVOTION

for Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Dim forms hover near a shadowed path
Reach in with bent fingers to crook my delusions;
Do I have to hold on to them yet again?
Do I really need this?

Go ahead and infest me, i'm accustomed to it.
As your tyranny unwinds from the mist
Within my breast agelessness endures
Fanned by your factorys' scorching fires.

Loving shadows flit from darker forest
And wash into bleached memories of
Love's first shattered against friendships forged
Half dissolves in memory as the first plundered lust

Resurrects grief whose echoes track the past
Over life's eclipsed hedge maze
Now barren revealing intimates from the dawn
Torn from me by destiny.

They don't hear my later melodies,
Those to whom I used to sing.
That crowd dissolved long ago
Eulogized into silence.

My song resounds among strangers now,
And their praises make me wince
For those who used to listen with held breath
Now wander far apart if not in death.

My spirit feels an alien desire
Pine toward the peace of that grave
With inconstant pulse my bloodline ebbs
As when Pathetique or Requiem unrolls

And flow my tears the heartbeat said
I smother my pain with an iron will
I see my world as if from a distance
And the dreams I lost are all that's real.

LOOK OUT

I don't know humans
from the stuttering
shells of machine guns

I don't know
soldiers from saints
I can't tell a razor blade

from an ink pen
I can't tell a gun shot from a kiss
I don't see the difference

between jackals and police men
or carnivals and prisons
shackles and tennis shoes

sidewalks and clouds
coffins and bath tubs
I see no distinction between

inhumation and orgasm
among boot heels hammer blows
orchestral music screaming

heart beats screaming
screaming thunder bolts
melt down laughter whispering

dreaming, I suspect no reason
to make a connection between
the aforementioned

as surely as I don't
know them
from you

OUR WALL MADE IN CHINA ON THE MEXICAN BORDER

A brutal horror beyond

Our imagination really

Breeds reassured
In unrelenting focus

Just south of here.


Consider US

As a gigantic party


Cruiser

Perhaps we'll get a clear picture

Of reality once

This metaphor

Is deciphered.

The degrees


Of fastidiousness

By which we create


Our nemeses

Would be shocking

Indeed if we

Weren't so insulated


Against it.

The gross demand

For illegal drugs


For instance,

Consumes trends

Toward epidemics

And cartels stand


Drawn north

Along the black undercurrent

The mere government


Have not elected

To target the real


Article of drug abuse—

The User's Victimization—

Just goes to show

Eyes that see


Who bother to look

Register the thought

That they must

Want it that way

For how could it be

Otherwise?



Meanwhile we troll

A suppurating wound

Right on up


Through the Americas

In turn We, the Cruiser

Literally spew

From multiple spigots

Astern—human generations

Of gang bangers—


In our view

To their lands

Returned.

If you ask me,
that there Sirs

Is a recipe

For making your own worst enemy

Welcome to the States of America

That must all remain

United behind this Great Wall


Made in China

Just a looming shadow

From our southern borders

Encroaching on us all

To eclipse freedom itself.

MASONIC ASH TRAY

for Kyle McBride 

Glass blown ash trays embossed in silver caught
the dropped excess of a generation's shrugged off after
thought and here I sat the grand kid who bought
into all of that left with a legacy of corrective lenses
scattered across the table top with a candle and a
bowl of sand reminded of how we're distracted to
see clearly by those diligent to the status tug of war
the radiant seventh letter in the compass and the quadrant
to receive the tapped sacrament of four Cuban cigars
was the crafted destiny of this charming rugged heirloom
to grant a new dawn with balanced diplomacy seemed to be
the message embedded in the lead crystal the dragon fetus
in the pyramid spawned by the pornography of science just
goes to show how to fill an ash tray with my grand father's memory