To New Beginnings

my new superhero is the only one left that's strong

more than love in his gangly little arms

hope boundless as horizon and sea

the timeline of growth is melancholy and free

superhero ease me

into the love of loves.

Sun Prayer

it's hard to concentrate on a moving sock of prayers.

the english language in bandages pent up and grasping for a dawn breath.

dawn like the leveling of its natural masters into a single bursting stream.

this pigeon modernity finding respite in a leaflet of altar dreams.

woozy and squeamish the haze of miracles creeps into oblivion's shoes.

walk tenderly amongst the streamline of coarsened hair, unwashed over the years.

blurry incantation need not a sunset to cease the lonely psalms from washing over mouths.

with a million points of light illuminating the bandaged ritual,

we begin to grow in dust.

Sun Prayer - Lonely Psalms For a Million Points of Light

Shoes to Suit to Water to Bathe

he is a fool, can't follow in red suit

shoddy shuddering maverick

with no doubt but all of it shoved by spoonful

out of the bosom pocket comes a leveler

a shout of reckoning

to kneel at same height, same width

the challenge comes from a fortress of tongue

breathing mindless and stacking insult on insult

they go at it without blow

the sour heat rising from cramped knuckles

they are willing to do battle

but they cough up in the must

crackle in water

the clapping of waves that do not overflow the tub

do not sit well with the combatants

they will not know cleanup

desire to mend is not an option

he feels the ends spit out of his hands

no following in splendid attire

just mouth and a stalemate

the glory of solace

earmarked in a locked box

forever untouched

by the stingy fling of endless word.

End Season / Begin Season

Snowfall out of my headdress
The gleam in the cold is getting weaker
She calls me a dolt like a prizefighter
So tonight I might miss my target
A clipped moon while sun is shrouded in shadow
The winter’s countenance is a clipped pigeon
While the air thins from the tightened grasp of the wind
And the child in me strains for some movement
So I bow, back and forth
Worship to my own stature
The blood flow is precious as word
Scripted in the fog of the ancients
I feel lineage in your eyes
Let us soak up the last bit of heat
As we close the doors of another season

Music On Blast: Burial's Street Halo

A song for organized crime.

A song for black water raves.

A song in the twilight of one's years.

A song in the new post-apocalyptic West Side Story musical.

Burial - Street Halo

Manic models clench their bosoms and scrounge

For their pocket-sized diaphragms

Leaving behind the sap of light

That leaks all over their objectified selves

Rat-tailed and hungry-fisted

Provoke with blindfolds on

No need to eye your prey

Keep them flaccid if you can

I think they'll marry a meadow tonight

Calmest of gutters

Wash down broken frames

Pulse air pulse

Wind through the cavernous

Distraught ankles and wrists

They are posing for the fluffing sounds within

But the alley cats drum up bones of a softer beauty.

An End.

Envision gilded light off the coffin of the day

A suitable amount of breath left before the seal shuts

This fixation on promise has ended almost abruptly

We had a day!

We had light!

Now dwindling from smirks and all out laughter

At the accomplishments it's made

The feeble gathering

The figures becoming ghosts

What a sharp angle of light!

What a cancerous brilliance!

A tunneling stroke of an achievement!

We put to sale the goods of this earth

The last hand to plough

The rough skins off our backs now sold to soil

We fold them politely but in a casket bath

The soil dead in leaves brittle with inert intimacy

Ruined the holy safe house!

Ruined the liquor store!

Ruined the hair salon!

The mouths once dry

The tongues now solid

And as with every word that leaves them

They become casted as stones

Into the mouths of the ruined

They ruin each other

There is no one left untouched

And as with the old adages

To rubble, to dust, to ashes

The gilded light ceases as with us, as with us.

II.

Love not extinguished evermore

In fact soaring, a rush of blood to a wound

Comes like a little beast that you've nurtured under shield

Through the night fights in thick fog light

This might be salvaged from the fire

This might reveal a safe house in the river

This might thread through the veins as it tends

To grow and engulf and swell and throb and pulse and strengthen

So strong, you let that thing on your sleeve get so strong?

You remember it's just raw heart that will kill them all

In the good grace of the day.

keep 'em rolling...

From now on talk to me as a ghost

you understand this sound like it's the heart of it all

And when I speak in tongues you might find your voice

Stop me when you know my word is gold

Then I'll hold you close because I got no eyes

Into your life because I am the past

Chatter on your neck, how the glow dawn glides

Upward and over the cattle they graze in the rising sun

All I know is what I see

What I see and what you cannot see.

Saints of this earth

Incubate in their own towns

Saints don't travel much

At least by transportation

The young man ran

A trench coat fluttering behind him

Its tatters resemble the etchings of wings

Cover the child and beg together

He knew the streets by porch light

And only knew

To cover the child and beg together

Even to the moment of his burial

Wings blackened from his time on earth

Cover the child and beg together

Untitled

The limitless know nothing

Wrings hands, clasps them

Upward

Sun stretched now dark

The tide of word on paper

Everlasting

The pull of syllable and meter

The know nothing knows no grasp of it

The tale he contributes

Instant death to the literate

Instant death to the learned

Instant death to the intellect

Instant death to a triad of ironed-on metaphor

Kept folded in a used dresser

In a purse it travels on faith

The broken-in leather

Easy on the thin fingers

As he weeps

At the sound of his plane

Crashing over and over.