Teeny weeny drop
Of a person,
What gives you your light?
You will never have.
Triangle smashed
Into a mirror,
Blindness and
Sordid food.
You hop around
And you eat sometimes.
Light and tenebrae,
The artist
Has died in all of
His disengagement.
Follow me to warmer climes
And paste
The ledger to Philadelphia.
Nonsense, chimera,
Yet your rhythms sway
Onto garbage,
Onto a filet of salmon,
Chase away your lighter fears.
There is no
For any of this,
And the game plays itself.
A rich bestiary,
A pen with no ink,
All over the floor.
It hits home with you soldier,
It is a smoky restaurant,
But where’s the beef?
Your mouth draws into a bow.
You wasted all that time
For us
To finally be.
Stop it now.
You yourself are an artwork,
Yet the blithe hermeneutics
Has shifted.
Tell me how I should think it,
Tell me how I should know it.
Go ahead
And say it
To the wind.
Time. Time. Out of breath
And pleasure,
You are waiting
For the jump.
The inner ear,
The vast sky made of ink
And the stars
That hum their
To no one.
Left behind,
Lost in a sea of responses,
You are waiting
For something to happen,
But it never does.
The cat is surely missed,
And the train wheels
Go by like huge flies.
Homeless people everywhere.
What does it mean,
Ontologically speaking,
To be “on medication”?
Does it help?
Can you?
I think the sun is a rosary,
And it just goes and goes.
Unction of another day,
Music in rain,
There are just one of us.
Die to be predicted,
You will never die,
You will strategize
The energy of thinking
Till you are very tired.
The unthought is caught
In a web of syllabics.
Hold yourself back,
Realize it. 
Cramped and a little mood,
Selena blares.
You were never at it,
You just took it.
Then they say,
That’s great,
And another sky falls,
And another,
And another.
Please come here.
Well, I never!
As surely as this chair,
I stick to the floor.
If you feel your arm hurts,
Use your ear,
And if you cannot,
You are doomed to repeat it.
Wild with judgment,
An abject haze,
My mind drifts slowly
Past the days
When you were young
And I was young
And we had it all
Never had it all
My love.
Trees speed past on their bicycles,
Or should we say,
Their bicyclettes?
I think the latter,
Though the moon is also
Very high
And red
And full of undoings.
Life, my love, is not
A ___________.
Cake and honey,
Tea and crumpets,
A feast is waiting
To be had,
And though you have eaten
Of all the trees,
Still you do not know.
No matter,
This is a short one.
You climb it
And you sprain.
Click past the keys
That howl in your mind.
I’m sick of being directive.
I sound like that girl.
Look, if you do something,
Try to do it well,
That’s all.
There are stars in my cereal,
And seeing you tonight,
I discovered I could paint.
Who are you talking at?
I think it’s me.
World without end,
This brutal substance,
The fires of hell
Are quiet and green.
Love me with your knee,
And I will give you
Something to relish.
Time understandable,
Dimension shining.
Door on a single hinge,
But nonetheless, it opens.
Iron=inner space,
While the surface of the limit
Dries in time.
Lucky are we who spit
At the mirrors of others,
And the strength lies within
The rule.
Angel—you wrote me.
I never wrote back
Even though that was
Cult of ure,
Swing it!
I loved you once,
Then I turned away.
Why have you forsaken?
The gods look on with glee.
I write the philosophy of dreamsake,
And you are a little
I scour in the evenings
When it’s warm.
You, driver, must tell me of
The stars.
Dictated to me,
You can eat away,
And the spongy feelings
Will only confuse.
Why have you gone
And when can I see you again?
Where are you getting off?
What have you done
To your hands?
The radio blares under the streetlamps,
And the god of my fathers,
I will not swear it.
Take me to Harris—he’s right there
By the radio.
Glee & tumult
Oh, I have my intuitions,
But what of these sordid
Dirtying up
This table?
God is not a vegetable,
Nor a type of mouthwash.
If I say, I have eaten here,
I will dare to disturb,
But not the universal anymore.
We have gotten more “specific,”
More pointed,
And I danced on the edge
Of an episteme of fire.
And what were you doing
In the rectory?
I almost asked,
But then thought of nothing,
And your nails!
What a mess!
Driven by a hundred self-delusions,
You let the cat out again
You are a prime example
Of a turkey
Without talent.
Oh, and if it wasn’t for your talent?
You’d be homeless, too.
Here is the acid test–
Would you call him a narcissist?
Or would you partake
Of his Cheerios
In his dog bowl?
Will it catch on, my brother?
Will you wait for it?
I’m out of the subject,
Poised on a simple letter.
Can I grade it?
Can I even see it as beautiful
Or true?
Wasted time like an event.
Sick through me, darling,
As I smell the smells
I smelled
When “confined.”
And found freedom
In those constraints.
The animal who licks you
Is your animal
Without intent.
The lone survivor says hi,
And the blood moon weeps
Like a statue over us.
Our salvation is ampersand.
Frankly dear,
There’s an app for that.
You teem with delight.
You get your power
Back this way.
Easy to say,
But when the clock chimes
Something like your taxes
Will be done.
Is it you?
Or you?
Or is it a piebald sky?
Nevermind why
Or Y.
Garden filled with phlox,
An insect burning
In the sun,
Under an artist’s hands,
All is well.
If I ask you for hope,
Will you give it?
Each pure strand on
An acid beach.
Nobody touches anymore.
The cafe rocks and rocks
With the landscape.
Evermore, I tuna you
Blackened with nightfall.
A table is set.
Bread and wine
And nothing to remind us.
Your lips open a little.
You are teeming with sunlight.
Bluest baby doll,
I give you suck.
Abandoned tractors,
Eye of the fly,
I will wait on you
Forty years.
Where are you?
I think I missed something.
Reference of days
That pass,
I even told you about it once.
No drying leaves,
No gotcha snow,
Windows are pierced
With palsy.
Open them anyway, though.
Can we say socialized?
I die directly unto you.
Life’s confinement,
There is too much glittering
To see the glittering
Make something up.
I tire of my own commands.
A baby howls,
Neurons fire off.
A pretty girl
In a yellow skirt
Smokes and smokes.
A stroke of something,
Not genius,
Goes past,
And I go by like a firefly.
Interest in things.
Selfish and yet.
You are too alone,
And you make your bed
Of straw upon the eaves.
And not sexed up,
This paper-flesh dries in time. 
Federal reverie without space.
A line,
Just one
Aching toward another country,
These things we say
When we occupy ourselves.
Quotidian air,
Breathe me unto another
Dangling like a seat cover
On a toilet bowl.
Do I dare say, I have patience?
Or do I stop
In the mute flexibility
Of an age
We’ve crossed and smashed?
Purity is not a goal
But only fashion and show.
The meat is especially crisp
And I gather the scraps
Under my fabled cloak.
That was just a joke.
Did you get it?
I thought so.
Crossing the water
From vowel to vowel,
The ambling consonants
Cry out.
They are cramped
And sad
In their little boxes.
I set them frrrrrrrree!
I set them free,
And I don’t make fun
Of anybody.
Open the door
And let your lunatics
And never say you didn’t
Cook for them at 4 a.m.
You are a fan.
You are a “window.”
Your losses pile up
Like horses
In their stables.
Push yourself
And then give up.
Forgiveness & light
Will follow and never refract.
Shining in the sky.
Love is never lost,
But we salvage things.
Love is an orange,
And does not bend
Unless we bend.
Meditation on apologetics,
And the fishes learn.
What’s your friend’s name?
Are they in it?
The strategems blossom
Like creeping phlox,
And dear, I love the gaze
Of your feet.
That which turns,
That which shines in
The night sky–
These things shall carry us
And stream through all our days.
Professor, watch your mouth.
Coils of want
And working dread.
How soon is your effigy
Rolling around.
Stretch it.
Make it new.
The rocks under our feet,
The shuffling that we do–
Excuse me, but brown
Is still brown.
Elements among the crowds,
The phones ringing
And ringing,
How fast can you type
The word junksick?
I know, it’s two words,
But you see, I put things
Together like that
When I feel well.
You are the apple of my eye,
You are stretch,
You are the fragments
Of my imagination
And its reintegration
Every passing day.
You come to me
In pictures of elk,
You don’t ever leave.