Parallel Wordport

The Equation (part 2)

2010-10-14T16:58:00.000-07:00

The numbers bend and break e base ten
base four, base three, then binary,
identity rolls prime.
The numbers keep on numbing counting
confusing
sentences in their wake
with sex and games and worry or blame
heart-beat and breath its own music
like alveoli full-time in union/division.

The end a static shift
dust bending the final rays
back on themselves into nova...
Beyond the sound and into abstraction
all waits for inevitable detraction
a slip on ground too wet to kick
and slop of courage
exits
subsides into igniting fusion
action relative compression shock
revealing the image distortion
repeating the chaos
broken like waves.

the equation (part 1)

2010-10-05T15:08:00.000-07:00

The outer world reflected
pieces shifting
in behavior programmed and executed
to the space return,
broken into two.

It's something you can pick up and then
say it is whatever it is and then
have that come to exist,

but then the other thing is concretes:
overlapping on the sea of pavement, thoughts
recombine through lenses of perception.

Équilibre

2010-09-09T19:31:00.000-07:00

The geese are hiding something;
do not buy their telegraphs.

Terabyte Inca in immolation--
stuck with no water in the gorge of transmission.

Prompt, this

2010-09-09T19:17:00.000-07:00

for katy

This, a prompt programmer's fault:
aminopeptides, yes or now.
Snake Doc, I,
another mede extinction.

This prompt a questionnor bump
nudge just hulking that thing you were
thinking meandering walking over thin asia--
cataracts of thought-- Adios Neck,
seasonal recessession reception and eyes.

Prompt, this focus twice: split decisions spilt incised.
Narcoleptic like the prey of Iolani--
the recorded heart still motioned,
ask in code, Coda Skein; twists of alpaca sun.

Build bridges porompt enough to dive right
into float off or better stay in one place
while aces do ink for ever a n
ever in ocean skid.

symbiotic logic preposterous and most harmonic

2010-04-19T18:32:00.000-07:00

my brain is big and stupid
and small and stupid
please forgive me

Excavation 2

2010-03-02T09:09:00.000-08:00

Word's aliens waiting paint
the path laughs as they fly out
then ins
the cryptoswitchboard lights in
the chinese room and

petaldoorr emits cascades of sails,
the road before opens a brain
in this moor
we were mere weresounds;
halfdoubled inward arcs of axle,

until the bent popped off a wheel and
the spin initiated a new mountainous
universe. One by one.
We renamed the muscles in our hearts after
ice forests and the surly walls borders burning

ings into our octopus mind(s_

The noiseless rivers brought air and earth to
our waters failingso we fought fire with Ingrid then
smothered her in arpolleras.

Lexicons blared patience at her funeral at sea,
another cogwheel turning passion behind
exactly at how the steadily beat increased while
all of the whale oil in Japan blew sparks.

L'Etranger waited for it to be over
over by the dirigibles until after the
midpoint of forever
while we were playing around with our muscles
vulgar; but there was a key under the stone
and the whales
always needed to idle a bit anyways--
the aliens were still busy.

rendered (brave new world)

2010-02-23T06:58:00.000-08:00

the skies call
silver screen clouds
the name of each city
below

but as the droplets change
and the reasons shift
faith renders smokestacks burning

the chuffmachine
wagwongering its crooked finger
in the face some something small
and opening

the projection over formless white peel
rejects T(oronto, Albany, Amherst, Boston
in favor of cloudless pastures
where the mind grazes eye in eye

the guns of the house unbuckle
and the walls breathe in
in that moment before
exploding open.

Aces

2010-02-22T16:37:00.000-08:00

When things' mechanisms fail us,
are they blown away by the wind in
favour

of cold calculated meat beats
sitting blank in labs in spaceships
orbiting

the dark star microchip of
an other darkling universe when
succumbing

to the bleak joys
of security gained in counting

down
to the end?

Row

2010-02-17T16:56:00.000-08:00

This is the Ocean.
A Dream.
The Stretch!
_Vast expanse
(not water but
Nitrogen)
_.

again, again

2010-02-11T05:56:00.000-08:00

if an angel came
snapped skeletal plates
with hands and fountains self-taught

and it takes
this stone to scour
towards a breath,

then the breath always
deserts--echo notes
and naturally this traveled from up;

flick ever on across this twist
as though you were air(

The New Viceroy

2010-02-06T16:36:00.000-08:00

batter my heart awake and
make the future real to me--
tomorrow's ghost scrapes ahead of this wind
gaspingrappling
telling stories about death and the sea-
tempered steel to test it.
skeletal plates snapped up an angel

and it takes this twist to scour
with hands a breath from this stone,
though you were always self-taught
and this came on natural(asifly;

the never travelled breath
fountains and
the notes flick air across
deserts--echo towards home.

A Fragment Of "Cataract"

2009-11-11T07:32:00.000-08:00

...And the TV sang "from the bottom of a well,"
balling up the world into hydrogen and heat--
spaghettifying the world to dark energy and cheap meat--
the dimensionless dot under the question mark slagged off into the sky,
the fragment-sound in orbit struggling to shake the hell outta time...

we never drank the water again and dedicated fall fleets
sputtering 'for the uninitiated--A Mountain of Leaves...
and the slave of the brain bored by a bell.'

Alive After A Certain Type of Death

2009-10-28T12:13:00.000-07:00

the wave of things i didn't write exhumed me,
bubbles of air and water,
breath--blood, ground up by that dozer
chugging on like a leaf to certain ends
and to the vulgar magic of what the future brings in waves.

How Every Angle Blends Together

2009-03-08T16:35:00.000-07:00

Water shook the setting sun, the red glare thoughtful, gazing...
Through atmosphere the edge of the circle burst outward
Hiding another world beneath plasma burn where other planes
Shape reality's hum.

Lilacs and marsh heather stalled their growth
Waiting for the sky to dissolve
Or the earth to evolve,
But the edge of the circle held, and
Every etch of the fractal arc
A seagull's quark stretching a thread
That remembered the sea.

The trees locked by ice held their ground
And with each rock sang their tune of you,
Irradiating us closer to our fears
Which radios broadcast in the thousand colors
We stole to paint a bird.

We cried when we realized the paint could
Never capture the path, the love
That all the threads and feathers of the sea brought to us,
And we laughed when we saw something there
That had painted itself--
A fool of a king to rule our realms--
The thieves we were were changed,
The delicate interplay of all the pieces clickbuzzing the shift...

At night they slept, ringed by the resolve
Found when seeking with head and heart;
Each ancient dream surged--
Still lives--waiting at that red arc's edge,
Though books and the eyes of hiistory
Focus more on the salt
Marshes devoured when they were young.

And every spring it rains grey in the mountains in Nepal
Filling the cataracts like life in monasteries,
The water washing everything, the setting sun,
And shining us with the depth of never going alone.

the last pot roast on earth

2009-01-19T05:29:00.000-08:00

for Drook

on the very last friday of the very last calendar
someone scribbled a skull and cross bones

and we recycled all the old diet ginger ale cans
fashioned them into a sail that captures dirty molecules

*
for Katy

local december fridays colder than febuary that year
those slowed moments sat at the table, a pen and paper

the computer generated aliens looked ridiculous,
but pot roast in the made for tv movie beckoned.

while land race gamma rays ate up the stars
the final birds sang laughing at magic eye views,

I remember burning every book we'd read to keep warm,
and how we sailed on feeling guilty for finding the way out

Why Wait?

2009-01-14T05:20:00.000-08:00

damage drives hunger
up and down the coasts of fear;
the south still has plans...

Sunder Kin

2009-01-13T08:31:00.000-08:00

turning skies to head
the way mountains cover death,
time to let it count.

Non-Game

2008-12-28T06:12:00.000-08:00

healthy detatchment met its match
today under a static sky,

the man with tv for a head and
metropolis arms showed no mercy

no witness was there for the skyscraper attack
and weak radio defense, writing it down like a script.

the blade was concrete, quicksand, and house parts
and healthy detatchment's head rolled all the way to Hollywood.

I sent flowers to the hospital,
but they were the kind that still had roots.

Line One

2008-05-21T08:53:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the deepest
meaning is no meaning
in flat land.

Bee Tree (six strip)

2008-05-17T03:01:00.001-07:00

The Bees Are Coming

So many efforts taken, the only imprints a love poem reduced to "gone," and a pineapple for the world's proper welcome. The catch-22 was that the strength and clear forceful resolve exhibited in leaving was more than the underlying shadow of growth to come--it was one thing that could break the reinforced icons of little minds....(the other thing*

The Other Thing

An accident, no one else around, adrenaline mother, I saw no one in one car, airbag deployed and the other was a medium sized truck too high off the ground to see into. I slowed down as I passed and immediately called Emergency but was kindly informed that it had already been discovered...I continued journeyways past the cold tree and reflected the damage reflector*

Damage Reflector

It's all in the trees of the seeds who never hatch--
I came to get my things
I was unprepared, resentful
(regretful immediately)
I saw a flash, gathered my things
the light came on, I gasped but
was
not noticed...
lucky*

Lucky

Adrenaline mother why near you did I accept death, an imprint of so many things?
an imprint of time and circumstance
an imprint of the world, an imprint of atoms
an imprint of fate--
scars
and "it was not supposed to be this way,"
and this is not the path
the broader space, simultaneous--
a map
and whatever else was there (or who)*

There (Or Who)

Why did I accept death's fear...?
His cloak stretches, and
stretches
goes deeper
into a shape we cannot quite wrap our minds around...
whatever else comes next
is next*

Next

At least Jasmine came for the goodbye,
The best way about it all really.
I didn't touch her, I just blinked a few times and left, quietly
I've moved and those weak remnant-imprints were stitched to become more relevant to my character
I left your hat and your keys,
a pineapple-tree and the word "gone" saved to your hard disk where I had to kill
something meaningful.
I came to get my things
and quietly was the best way
for me to forgive myself...
because
the bees are coming*

Grendel's Breath

2008-04-28T08:40:00.000-07:00

Take back your bloodied rusty ring--
bled white cold conquering spirit
robbing air, and break it;

Give us back our green grass
and scavenged breath--
Grendel's Best...

Evict your ravenous gypsy moths and free our bark,
for their strings make no song
save the slow disappearance of leaves.

It crawls through me as sundown's ice dances
in the locked limbs of these restless dreaming pines
and screams,

Drive this ghost to the ground,
for evry cataclysm lurks
and city limits are monuments
in the dark to the dark
with lights on fire like the rest of it.

And that dragon's gold and cold coil scales
always other us to death leaving throngs alive
with collapsed mosques and shantih's to implode
the ohms in a rough lithography of trees...

Snapping back against time,
our fermions crushed--annihilized,
but we will be bosons between the planets
and feel the pull beneath dust to the fifth world.

Under the recession of noon
the will within our blood
flows out--forgotten among cold rocks...
but something there survives in balance
to grow and shred the redwoods
(or any other lilies milling)
and coughs up keys of a fiery furnace.

The Atom Bomb Of Your Departure

2008-02-14T00:47:00.000-08:00

it hit me--
disintegrated in the shock wave
a pulse tearing faster than meatbeats,

tore apart all i knew,
your cats,
your use,
your farm that i built,
everything i did and wrote;

it cast me in a space with white walls
denied by existing;
the radiation--a river
of chemicals for us both.

i spin and spit blood--
your failed apocalypse will always exude--
a tooth, dust i am.
i let it go and it takes me.

here in the water i wait,
wait for you,
blank and angled
like something new,
or a blade you never see,
but it's really just
everything you've ever forgotten.

Blender

2007-12-01T19:04:00.001-08:00

Words like bugs
swarm around
for we are all outnumbered
etymology, DNA-- our roots
our cruel cold hands
made to move
ticking off with thunderbolts--
think of the stitch
and of the cut
and centrifugal bumble-puppy,
think of dissemination,
and of learning, or not learning...

One monolith for everyone,
the keys ticking down love,
a genesis thunderbolt--
the tomato in your back,
in your wrists,
or in your head.
this is a blank page,
and the note it makes when we break,

my teeth--be bitten,
for you were born to cry or bleed.

Bullets

2007-11-28T09:44:00.001-08:00

a firecracker in a munitions tent
kills thousands accidentally...

civilians rise and fall,
their water washing
the moons and skies.
the earth groans and shows her belly

while we, sleepless,
make bullets all night
to shoot into the ground.

Oxidize

2007-11-15T06:01:00.000-08:00

If ever was
the price of daydreams seen,
and the crowds of background fragments
released through splintered skulls
a cataract...

Against the congealed rag, reality breaks
though classic american shakesperian apocalypse ensues
and all your baby seal shoes,
cubed greenland icicle theives,
and breakbeat-lined vegetable cubicles
belie your purpose, saving I's of the sun.

The icons polarize
small minds
and peach pit cyanide
flows in that sick pulse
real blood has
when her stand-in is injured
by the "doctor"
while everyone stands around, pretending
and the cameraman coughs when
nosferatu arrives late from chinese make-up
and it's like the way the sun
and darkness charge peach trees
over a great distance.

Hydrogen Maser

2007-10-29T08:55:00.000-07:00

another sunrise to smoke and ghosts,
the saccharine song bleeding over
sleep to let me know that even though
i always forget the dream
i still got something...

and all your awkward fiber optic paws
clackclack no blame like
presidential teleprompters
whose keys are too small--
gibberish erupts, meandering
backways and sideways to echoes of some
awesome hunter's dance,
while the nation laughs

ticking grass, silver linings
loose and unbound by skies
bleed everything UVB--
the lines dissolve,
and the sort-of-almost cloud--
fear burns off in agawam sun.

Bones

2007-10-28T11:54:00.000-07:00

This amnesia thread unwinds--
I don't bother bleating,
or speeding to kinder blanker skulls...

The gunshot hole chrysanthemum
and great walnut escape are only over glass roads
and boxed boxes waiting to be broken down--
remade into bags, cheap children's furniture,
and idiot robots who can't tell the difference
of the mini flowered assination
and the deep ice of wild geese mountain

but no time to be a bug of thought
as the future worry wars and real wars
precede the 15 minutes and internet drone,
"expansion!"
to assert spare cogs by flying by,
welcome to the machine.

The 6-Cylinder Home

2007-10-17T22:27:00.000-07:00

when the now has come and gone
a fuck and run that lasts the stretch
of stretch

and then dissolves to brighter fears
and smaller murders--
death the parked car, only

in cages concussions dwell and chug, abandoned
with jobs they hate and objects wasted
always on the edge of something with wings
that never leaves the ground

i'll let go first, in my dreams
my fist will open
and the thing will fly away to wait
for the day the snow comes
and never stops.

Fall Fleets

2007-10-03T13:47:00.001-07:00

Legions of leaves stoke
armadas,
burning autumn coronas
around everything
that speaks a different language than you.

The pile of televisions
stutters to itself
and telemundo sails off--
a midnight ride
to tell the world
about how theory
can stop a revolution...

and the sun-bleached weather-dead land of southern california agrees.

Vapor Egg

2007-10-03T13:44:00.000-07:00

Fall fleets quit parades for ghosts grown
under socketless ache of blue vaulted ceiling.
Their war with the clouds was fruitless
and they had to retreat before the cold...

for napoleon advances always
like love evolving death
and the sparks of the bitter tumor-seed
proliferated to tie up the sky, or
whatever was left of it after it had killed
the green with cinders and smoke.

It rained then, and the leaves could be seen jiggling
a symphony out of what water remembered as they fell together.

Hold

2007-09-01T09:07:00.001-07:00

it strikes me particular,
_your silent eyes captive cycles,
neptune and saturn's claws
_catching traces irridescent--
green to blue sketching light,
_the emerald wings breathing,
the cut and stitch locked in hum
_just so that the ice melts and
the light scatters in all directions
_like butter flies in august heat.

Black Narcissus will have to wait...

2007-09-01T09:06:00.001-07:00

it centers on the wastes and sociological truths that tear everything apart...

not going to be easy, but it starts a new collection, for sure.

Cold Tree

2007-08-01T22:05:00.000-07:00

A mine disaster,
a naked tree,
the stark surreal jag, covered
with moss and saprophytes
recycling...

It crawls through me
as sundown's ice dances over
the locked limbs of these
restless dreaming trees,
and either sings,
or dies.

The simurgh's egg cracks,
the scary black one this time,
menacing empty.

Through the shell
the mountain opens--
a black narcissus
bigger than the sky.

Frame Story

2007-07-31T23:11:00.000-07:00

Why did I reflect your red?
The flames just meant to burn
and not be read so deeply,
because beneath could be seen
through illusion, a shape--
a man.

The trees could feel it--
the electric blast from violet fire;
it split one of them in two, and
one half fell one way right away
but the other took weeks and weeks
to fall the other.

There there's a boy who waits
and waits
and waits
for the end of days...

A Paper Lens

2007-07-30T10:10:00.000-07:00

Here's where the soldier burns his chains
rewriting every loss--
a frame of mind,
he focuses on fusion
igniting life to flare up fear
around whatever else there is to burn.

In the trenches fear was the little death
we died ten thousand times before washing
in total obliteration--
this lentic strange wave sea change grows tidal,
furious when the inner eye is blind.

The nightvision scope reveals hurricane
after swirling storm after august tempest...
He is enchained by the hum of the
bomb as it devours him and free.

Is everyone then the Other
just waiting for America
to say they know how things are
and make them to be true?

An Incomplete Moon

2007-07-29T07:56:00.000-07:00

I am no buck--for before I was big enough
I was torn apart by icy teeth,
a hoof remained.

I was hay, once,
back when I had things to grow,
but such ideas are fleeting and far off.

The thunder I am not rolls out as weakly
uttered words of no recourse.

All this denial
toes curled under,
circling fingernails...

Love leaves either lost or found--
the cracked glass of paper lens
shows pieces of the desert
past, but not the full scope
of light and water.

Excavation 1

2007-07-28T08:27:00.000-07:00

Inhibition
made-up words
orbiting hum
Things like gravity
obsessive thoughts and
Money, sand...
silent tiny pieces of the sun
we can bend the light
into the Time slip
gasohol
the spice
nihilists
accelerating across space
to wake up among the magma
religions.

when i was deader
in the storm of armor plates
i had no matches.

señor chameleon
dark matter and
a single,
isolated,
graviton.
shove nothing
I hate it too
television
the pink moon
whales & volcanoes swim and burst up
from oceans to speakers
leaving twisted fragments
of underground city #4
7 kettles singing
"the power is out"
and the deader than dead walk...

thank god for generators and shotguns.

fear haiku

2007-07-28T08:17:00.000-07:00

when i was deader
in the storm of armor plates
i had no matches

A Layman in a Monastery

2007-07-27T08:45:00.000-07:00

today i held a book of rumi
in translation from arabic
and fell headfirst into a mosque

at noon I imagined a phoenix,
a mosaic of irregular canvas
cement and such a solar color
with 'apocalypse wave' in the tail...
but the feathers
disintegrated into seasons
and 'house on the hill'
and 'i remember the road' are there
so small at the tips you can barely tell

in the sideways sun
one of the more random rounded showed
the mind of the mind choking on sand
and the movie spread to the other pieces
corroding the reds
the oranges bled
and the yellows--dust to the dusk wind, but
'I remember the road' persisted,
away...

an excavation awaits.

blueberries (the uncertain quality of light)

2007-07-26T22:22:00.000-07:00

the light explodes across ultra & 8 minutes--
8 thousand trillion more,
charges out to flare the biggest wheel, uncertain truth,
and burns chlorophyll to feed the bush like a flashbulb

the great grope in the dark for more than is there
compels dissemination oblately
and the deep blue of the what if machine chugs
dry air into a tiny city on a leaf.
a globe on a stem spins off into my hand.

in the city my perilous love song goes unanswered,
it plays in empty rooms and people turn on their radios
as they slip quietly out of cars
so that it may defeat itself in silence--
junkyard boomboxes blare it
from garbage barges on their way out,
but the only thing that hears it is mostly water...

somewhere between all this light, water...
i'm alone and free and alone and free
and all the cool sweet froze over--
something i could see in your eyes caught me with blue.
your heart escapes me triumphant with closed ghosts, but
you once said everyone is already dead
and i didn't call you a nihilist.

instead months later i'm in the field picking
blueberries for you...
the globe falls past the cut plastic rim of a maine spring.

everything senryu

2007-07-12T05:48:00.000-07:00

here is money
nothing is everything
here is nothing

Harvester Hatching

2006-12-09T12:11:00.000-08:00

love itself mentioned in passing
"the sol is autonomous,
and fusion makes fools of us all
when we dream of burning
fuel to plug the futures dust,
with rust we wait
for the worry children of
our laughing hearts
to charge fate
of orbiting lycanthropy too closely"
and by then he was too far gone
to extract the feel of teeth
from words whose satellites
only pointed down
with pontificating gravitons
to a scalpel.

the first cut was a stitch
and the weight of blood
bubbled up awake
to escape the dream
but only found itself asleep
against a tree orbiting the sun
locked in beneath
the pull of summer skin
and the explosion outward

collapse

2006-12-03T00:28:00.000-08:00

lately my heart pumps three neutrinos,
switching flavors in each chamber,
but within my head beats
every dark increasing Why
like a twilight drum,
starting lips
throat humming
a rasp stretching
against the freezing air
and though my hands say go and come
my eyes spin and stick
to the terrible thought
that the joke of all this information
will wrap us in amnesia wind
and disrupt the onioned dream
of overcoming unreal cities
for love.

magnet poem

2006-09-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

could honey rob men
of gorgeous bloody diamonds
so enormous
they can crush
a winter moon
to a summer whisper
in moments so black
these white shadows
will rust away
in forest symphony

neutron star

2006-08-12T05:32:00.000-07:00

Burning cords of fungus-wood,
it spins from iron in my blood,
a royal cloud erupted from
below the mango tree where you stood and stretched
surviving ego as you fled across five time zones to the hills,
splitting sub-realities and living the fractal to slip either way.
When-I-remembered-your-eyes (Neptune and Saturn) shot out from
huge rainforest ferns with claws and teeth
and that frozen poem I was always writing died
in their jaws.

Those other words I burned could fuel
the Memory’s decay and gather all my things
in a wind coming upslope from the swift river,
returning east where my big texas heart is lost,
beginning again and missing the peregrines.

Time and Space have snapped--
been stretched and shunned too long
and the imminent collapse prophesized
that haunts your House like hungry bears
will waste itself on hadron dreams of excess--
cry neutralized in static grief
at the size of what was left.

And hopefully I will remain like you
some neutron star in coldest space
catching rays from Quasars spinning fast,
Quarks humming
dancing strong and weak to the end.

but if my Gravity exceeds
I will shock again a velvet touch whose lips
and tongue could blast the hardest walls to dust…
my falcon satellites fall in
and no light would escape,
the rite of passage is complete
and this Black heart Hole that should replace
the singing bird will call to all who near it
with Force!

Neutrinofieldswhoseenergywe’velostourselves
insomeforgottenmingleddanceevoked
theritualofbeggingspace
andheartsurgeonstofixusboth.

fragment

2006-07-27T18:44:00.000-07:00

I have sliced the night horizon and seen
the bleeding dark slop off, the stars remained
and between the delicate hum of lights
there was nothing but a mirror of myself reflected

Bell

2006-07-27T17:19:00.000-07:00

because a resonance persists

there is no rose
apart from it’s shape
that captivates
a heart as
_______narcissus.

the so low bird
nabs solos
with syntax—
confines to confound to an essence of words.

no heart
from that narcissus shape
sat as is the captive rose.
It’s air—
_______a part—

a syntax of signified,
encased in a cage of new art

with one god outside
or that echo of wind
_______“you solitary
_______fragment of space...”
the simurg is collared and tied to a tree,
wooden wings now pump iron with song
_______for blood.
and the place was a window
of cat gut strings singing
only in spite of the rust.

[music]

2006-03-21T13:58:00.000-08:00

dances around pale shapes in
blank airless rooms where
people sit and Watch.

Repeating sonatas enfold the rooms.
Twisted and collapsing in time
with languid humming
until somebody moves like the Word moves in them

then
a guesture catches them all
halfway on the left-brained waltz
to the room you're in
with actual speech--a split
measure murmuring something in 4/8
bursts in through an ash door
& the floor vanishes
as the dust coils and tries
to lead you home (in vain)

This all because
A perfect A [444 Hz]
fighting itself in rhythm
has a tendency
to throw the Right aside to gasp
at the void in which it lives
before hitting the ground.

absorbed by molecules & out.

Arc

2006-03-21T13:43:00.000-08:00

nothing more harmonic
than several empty rooms
hiding flipdark
chilled chromatic words--swords
to clear a hole in the maze;

set off fractals in your brain.

The Jade

2006-03-16T15:07:00.000-08:00

Older than me it stood
within the House of yesterday,
a monument to the fade from lands unknown--
Itself a piece of the Idea-of-Jade,
drinking earth,
sucking air...
and sole blind witness
to crimes of youth.

I held its hand,
asked it nothing;
could never have dreamt
its asexual secrets--
and that I, too, was a potential
world of jigsawed Pieces
growing roots and shifting shapes...
then it fell off
and I was alone
fighting creations.

I was my own,
an icy island adrift--
the landlocked kingdom
waiting to spread to port,
waiting to root again.

I stole the Jade's Magnesium green
and switched it with Iron to make my Blood--
I had to try,
but the bright flare burnt a
hole in my shoe,
and while I stopped to stamp it out,
my memory uncoiled
and slunk into the earth below.

Fixed and broken I made maps of known realms;
a cartographer charting the stones beneath--
the imperial expatriate family,
obliterating
internally
the leaves that would grow on their own
in buildings built by ghosts…

but if I stay too long--too close,
and use my only root towards truth,
there'll be no escape from Walls or Floors,
and
stuck
inside
these
Halls
of
You.

Broke Planet

2005-07-16T18:40:00.000-07:00

jangled in june as some sultry swallow
sang across a wasteland of broken buildings--

they expand and collapse
when you open and close your hands,

and the sound juxtaposed with the solitary bird
is more captivating than all of the 'i-don't-knows' and 'oh-yeahs' of jazz.

i fold and relapsed the jail as the broken pieces inside
shift weight and move with your hands, as if to fly away...