There Is No Land

 
at the very end of
there is no land,
no point
of departure into
the very end of
that clothing mental people
wear drowning
during the exact worst of journeys
precisely navigated
grief multiplied by the onset
of the very end of
piercing searing sound
all up and down the halls
first mates and crew
extreme revelations
infinity off the table now
where delicate imaginary flowers mix
worshiped with high sing-song
voices among a marble floor of amputations
glee
the gluttons’ smoking blood
Tiresias now bolder
fathered once again, then fearless
no sanctified point
of departure
no

Spread Across the Walls

legacies are one thing
spread across the walls
of caves
on boxcars
preserved, revered
traveling day and night
but words
those most elevated
that is, always
subject to interpretation
wandering, one press to another
black ink spread across white paper
yet fungible, translated
like germs blown across
continents and oceans
libraries, classrooms
penetrating, infecting
human brains
exactly like
invading hosts that walk
the earth until they don’t

Their Fingers on Your Temples

Their Fingers on Your Temples

Relaxation is a fine thing to have
their fingers on your temples
therapeutic
moving in circles, slowly,
from the outside
in
like homicide detectives
sometimes do
carefully constructing an interview
in ringlets
toward a crime years ago
that came and went
like a summer day

An Eruption of Imbeciles

An Eruption of Imbeciles

That garden
an eruption of imbeciles
she wished the exterminator
had included
in his estimate
but no
only cockroaches and termites
no infiltration of cunning
organic molecules in disguise
little growths that feed the brain
enlarge its ugly parts
then pass and hide in sludge
while the neighbor
helpful, meaning well,
offers cheery new ideas.

May I See It Please

MAY I SEE IT PLEASE

That right ventricle
may I see it please
also
your sigmoid colon
it says here that on your
sister’s side there was
a son
a harness racer of some success

Kindly share with us
a little history,
an image of him, perhaps
in the library
reclining
between the track
and sleep

By Radio Waves

BY RADIO WAVES 25 JANUARY 2020

why not be this depressed
by radio waves
bulging past the planets,
evading spacecraft, asteroids,
materializing
upon re-entry
into messages
only gifted ones have heard

the signals decay for most
but still…

it is clear now what
our gods will want from us

 

Hate Will Do

HATE WILL DO 09 FEB 2020

if I can’t have love
hate will do,
its dirty socks
unbrushed teeth
are good enough words
benchmarks, self-acclaim
forever Halloween.
read my cratered cheeks
they give your smooth ones
a better place for kisses