a painting in history

i saw a painting of a painting of a boy who looked like a stain that looked like a boy
sitting at the river lost in thought, lost in color on canvas
his pigmented soul fading in strokes to bare canvas
the bare skin of his arms goose bumped gold and brown
i got lost in thought i thought

i studied it in history in the library in history in a book in history
i looked to study to see the painting in the painting of the stain of the boy
once wet, now dry and spread out into form to form a form of a boy
who is destined for greatness
to be studied
in history
to be seen
and prayed to and questioned,
"who is destined for greatness?"

i've got no one to lighten up
but everyone to blame
i'm outside of life, looking in
and death - from out - the same

i light my past on fire
then eat some ice cream
then sleep my regrets away
if i could only only only only only
(ddrreeeeeeeeaaaaammm)

oh baby baby touch me
said the bullet to the brain
and embracing steel braced me
for the neverlasting pain

sunshine sally's dancing all over my grave!
i feel a little put off
but i pretend not to mind
and spin 'til i find
a better position to rot

i was stillborn in spring
with wet feathers and a broken face
wrecked upon the nest in my porcelain grave.
my mother sang her horror
none listened.
none can say what her wild gray eyes beheld
it was not me for i was not.
my brothers screamed of hunger
and heeding, she shot away

Endow me with your knowledge
The seed of your fruit
From the tree of your life
So that I might learn
To unlearn it

---

One moment, talking, laughing
Another, lost in a poison fog
Of course death awaits
Of course of course yes
But in the meantime?

Stop.
In the meantime?
What.
And why not
Constancy
Meaning
Choice
Null, all -
    Deathly illusion

A scrap among runts
(The strong make peace)
A tantrum, to last, here.

triptych

                i dunno
                       what he’s
                     thinking
                          but he’s wrong
                     i hope   he chokes
                     ugly and cheap
                  who talks
                     like that anyway
                     and her
                     stupid trifles
           i'm     not what            they say
 shaking inside       i’m going home    earth’s peace, rusted
still outside          fuck            is a crooked crown
 a smooth steel shell   this      fought against
 atomic heart beating      look      yet gained
aching to burst              light    yet worn

Miami

Strangely and suddenly to John, they plunged in to the stream of conversation, cold and rushing and out of control but not--he admitted so as not to drown in the initial panic--actually terrifying; pleasant, foreignly so, and familiarly so; but still, how did we get here and where are we going.

Jane offered a smile, beautiful and priceless and unpaid for, and John accepted, feigning implicit acknowledgement that it was a gift due, so as not to give away the fact that he failed to fully understand the custom or occasion, replying "Yeah, I've been." (To Miami, it was; that was the subject, or was becoming, blooming like a fire) Stall, recollect, prepare, advance. "Why, you going?" Such rote gratitude.

It began, so it continued, throwing the ball back and forth in the game, the grenade back and forth across the field. Landing in John's hands now, then quickly out, and his wild gleeful horror subsiding a little as Jane held it fearlessly with its blazing fuse, her eyes brightened by the danger, a dazzling kamikaze, and next back to John, all scorched thumbs and fumbling. It's almost out, It's going out, he thought, he reacted, as he played the wild sport, in disbelief of the joy he felt and the skill he exercised, while aching to quit it all lest somebody win or lose. So deciding, John issued inwardly an order as a plea: Stop, and won't that be nice for us, and isn't that by itself enough. "That sounds fun," he smiled, but Jane saw the signal.

a man is an eager dog
has nothing, but giving
drops a carcass at my feet
chases down a living

a living is an eager dog
is nothing, unforgiving
drops a carcass at my feet
wanting not, unwilling

man's will is an eager dog
flea-bitten, outwitting
makes a carcass out of me
loosed wild, free, and killing

a killing is an eager dog
spent yet unremitting
i drop, a carcass at your feet
a man? a dog. submitting