The Aquamarine Chariot
charges to land's beginning
outpacing even
the winds’ own wheels
Its glass facade splinters in bolts -
Stampeding, unheeding
while gathering ire
unsheathing and speeding
to the island of fire -

Waves hurl herselves
awash in bells
(the mortal sea
debased in her futility)
at Land, her lord
to hurt or horde
the human swimmers,
shells and glimmers
of sandy beetles
dazzl’d ashore


be leaf to know belief
sang tree to seed on stormy reach
one screaming wrenching
every child she'd
never leave'd


daytime tv

transcribed on
black ribbon:
"can you help us
brunch h ? []"
smiling blonde
a plant
for the host
she looks
like she
in heaven
her lips are from hell
steve harvey's face
ghastly plastic
above closed
scrambled captions
"brunc h grls club i am 25"
this blonde beacon
is pushing forty
is not blonde
pan to seated
female smiles
in bright jewel tones


who are the gods

blood flows in ditches on the road from rome
who are the gods
that call men home
to vacant deaths on slave-made stone

where are their seats at the table of the dead
the banquet prepared
the men well fed
who speaks the prayer and breaks the bread

the empty chamber can hold no more

what more beyond sour sweat and blood
must stain the teeth
of their ancient brood
must gild the mildew on their putrid food

the empty chamber is never full


man under

knowing the water's depth is my name
in the glowing tidal break of okay sweet-
heart don't cry, i love you, that same
old game of forgetting,
           and getting, and shame

the only way out is out's what insiders claim
we love a man in uniform and barely born
his unwon prize his size, as manly pain
breaks plain upon his ego,
            bulging below my boyish frame


oil on skin
tan chest
liquid bronze
a man, a blade
to press a
line, rotation of
figure, in vacuum
unreal light
created by
(repeat <1x to form a broken hoop)


The Punchline

a bhuddist walks into a bar.
life is suffering.


great loss of life v. small gain of death:
a weak slight of hand then nothing is left,
yet absence remains without sign of theft.


1) i can't have sex with you so i procreate pro creatively while this day flies too fast slowly we'd better touch soon and look around at the vanishing views of this day too fast, slowly touch, soon, look, vanish.
2) if you want me you better speak up i will wait i can sleep with you when i'm dead you want me
3) please derive multiple meanings by end of day without attempting to punctuate but penetrate please derive multiple orgasms by end attempt without attempting
4) generations pass while we fuck on they live and die as sub-fucks of the epic epoch
5) wherever you go i form instant cliffs in front of you i hold your breath and push


1 2 3 4 5 - trickle of consciousness
2 5 2 5 - codependent despair
4 3 2 - longing in reverse
5 6 - the unsaid ending