1. j.
I’M ALL OUT OF GLUE
Crumbling to pieces all out of glue
open the door here comes the cold
it’s now time in Detroit
don’t cut yourself on the broken hearts
stone faces are smiling
they call for repentance
but I can’t afford the cover and a Pabst
Broke in nine spots all out of glue
what holds the world together
once the duct tape dries out
I’ve got trouble in my eyes
and sour on my tongue
why aren’t the flags upside down
what ever happened to outrage
Can’t find Zu Zu’s petals all out of glue
her toes were painted silver
when the times were good
now even her smile looks like a frown and
everything she owns fits in a crumpled brown bag
a happy fuck you christmas
Water seeping through the cracks all out of glue
erosion of the soul
time bitters all things to the nub
I’m gonna drink with the devil
on the Day of the Dead
try to speed up the process a little
Ripped at the seams all out of glue
Fear on my skin
a loaded gun’s not trouble
like one that’s been emptied
the moon’s a hard target to miss
and no one really notices new holes
I’m all out of glue
all out of glue
got no glue
2. r
All out of glue
It dried up
or maybe wouldn’t stick
pieces were dirty
Maybe it was never meant to be held together
but touch like a long kiss before breaking apart
into 61 mirrors
running down the stairs
puddling in a footstep
snagging a gum wrapper
On a green wind pulled above behind a plane
a sign: teach me to blow a bubble
Then making a lazy arc, the other side:
no not like that, one that wont break
Tar poured into a boat to keep the water out
It stuck
the dart
only the bulls eye melted
sinking into the sea
From the shade mending nets,
"They used to use fish skins to make glue,
it wasn’t snakes I don’t think
there goes one now"
Like a pillow to a bird undone
my gaze made to hold
only
passing near
statues of passengers on the platform
flowers falling from the last car.
Worse than missing
is forgetting
until sharing with all you never thought to remember
she returns
on her own
like she came
a surprise
for which you have to wait
while feeling more alone than before
3. j
61 mirrors and i can't see myself
tried all tricks and smoke
never at the proper angle
so i'm gonna run barefoot on this concrete
until my feet find some grass
and i'll dance at the moon
to stain my feet green
leave grassy footprints all over her rooftop
while she wonders about all that racket
i'll hitch a ride on plane smoke
and drop into the stillest blue sea
shatter all reflection
4. r
Today's Voodoo
Her face is blue and it's hard to tell what she's thinking looking back at the sky.
A chimney sweep on call pulled breadcrumbs out of a winged stack planting a row of smoke as it passed above.
When it rained one drop, a jailhouse prism, who promised to come back around, mill about the yard when we talk about what brought us here.
Until then the nights, when left to ourselves, come and go, holding back the tears, anxious horses at the gate, the fix waiting on the odds to limbo knee high to the fourth of July, harvest moon, divine almanacs, her only record played again.
The ballerina cloaked in sparks, named shapes, the most proximate edge of infinity tenderly plays chicken with a slide trombone, the ventriloquists' stand in who's rehearsing the hollow cry of naive darkness falling to a more innocent revolution.
And then there is that picture the one drawn of the moon, before the one of the catapult, the last one before the shadow started dancing in the trees saying everything spilled its own color bleeding its own perfume. And we got a box full of spares for when the sun gives out, again.
And I have been called to testify because I know that mirrors don't lie only multiply even when they are but seeds, reaching, looking at each other, yet never seen together; they must be the same, only one in disguise: river wearing at the rock, sea casting up the beach, the butterflies and snowflakes in orbit as we come up for air, baptized in calamity, the ever present new, today's voodoo, 61x12.
5. j
the moon is hiding
but i know all her favorite spots
she's holding back her fears
but if you whisper loud enough it becomes a scream
crows on a wire outside my window
they bicker back and forth:
"I know where the moon is!"
shouts the littlest black bird
"She found a better earth to smile on."
"Don't be ridiculous!"
croaks the lion crow
"She's up on trial for murder,"
"they found her with a gun."
the little girl in 32b is crying for her mother
she knows how to find the moon
but can she keep her secrets safe?
the crows crept in my kitchen
exhausted all my bourbon
the lion crow has got a gleam
"Take us to that little girl moon"
"We hear her cry calamity!"
alone again
the crows tip-toed into the hallway
that little girl never heard them coming
in my kitchen at the window:
the moon is back
she's been acquitted
there's no more man in her
just a little girl who never cries
6. r
Crows call over carrion, dancing dark wells, ponds with out fortune, luckless reflections starving for a drop of milk. Stranded cobwebs fumbling for keys to unlock the tethers, its wheels skirting red lights, sirens with their own rhythm, sincerity intermittent.
Stuffed perches full of sleeping doves. In full fabulous a glow behind a cloud, with out a name a steady knife bleeding the night of its wolves hunting from hallway corners. The devil pants from an empty glass that could drown the happy longing to morn. A so dark feather called tumble, others flight.
The moon if you must know is a hungry eye of a giant staring up from a frozen lake looking for the hole into which it fell calling out marco, the crows polo. Sweeping a dirt floor, rising, then, good enough, given up for dead. Ghosts line the bridge with flickering prayers to Icarus while gravity gnaws below and the breeze looks to raise a chill.
The floor creaks, lost pennies between the boards. The hurting makes no more sense. Doors open and close. People hang up hats, put them on again. The crib becomes a toy, becomes the heart- an invisible shield battered, a ball leaking its air, a timid river under the night, but tomorrow with more heat, the last drop’ll go- the rocks will crack opening to a new treasure, the memory of a dinosaur once so grand it knew not fear, all other creatures cowered in its shadow of unhealed wounds- until it went to sleep weeping- so alone, its jaws relaxed, and dark feathers became its blanket.
7. j
Blue Brook/Red Rapids
Lips moving without a sound
the bank of my skull
is filled with elevator small talk
I don't remember how to ask for anything
I put all my prayers in a dumbwaiter
sent them up to God
they should reach him by the next century
if the lines don't give out
I lost a bet with a horse
he said the reason I work long hours is:
expensive shampoo and detergent that really gets the filth out
looks like I'll have to eat some crow
What do sheep count to make them sleep so innocent
doves circling overhead with a pearly gleam
they're sick and tired of stumping for peace
oily feathers stick together
Hurt makes me want to go and hurt
and I have a mandate of hate from the masses
I have chipped talons and a bloody beak
the peace blue brook turning to red rapids
8. r
the guerrilla (el guerrillero)
the thing is I don’t know who to hate
man, woman, who ever started this all
so I wait
I've set an ambush
and I wait
at night I don't light a fire
in the day I don't move
my face is painted into the background
i listen for the lies
watch for the gestures
ready my rifle
looking through the sites
but I've seen too much
i don't know if I can tell the difference anymore
so i ask
even if it’s just one of you
warn me
when you are about to be cruel
i am here to help
the clouds roll in
the rains will pass
i see a flower blooming
it reminds me of the butterflies
my grandmother told me about
when i woke up from a bad dream
9. j
The Guerrilla Turns His Cheek
Check out the resolve
in the eye of the butterfly
as it flutters amidst the ruin
Calamity does not slow the wing
Fear does not dampen the color
Death does not stop the soul
Beauty will shine
Love will roar
and I will laugh again
10. r
novembers
slide off garage tops
i remember a sinking duck
while the sea waited
fingertips resist in fists
scissors alone near shadow puppets
leaning in trees
i remember the question well
“what do you mean by better?”
while we talked of bullets
they gave me only one to chamber
teaching me not be careless
i trembled in bed thinking the war had started
and death would not discriminate
i awoke in a world still breathing
and they excited me with the threat
of a toothless whore
& i got lost
the knife
pulled the needle
of the compass
where it wanted
along a diminishing stream
quiet through the snow
11. j
toes wiggle in grass
ever sure of their footing
what do we learn from the gone
tie a shoe
skip a stone
catch a fish
all things turning color
never straining the eye
where do we go from here
take a job
find a love
bring a child
sun heat on the skin
chasing the pale away
how did we get this far
stole a dream
rode a star
broke a promise
feet now in the water
no turning back
why do birds sing
stole a fish
catch a dream
broke a love
this can't be November
12. r
the last night alone
i hold it in my hand
but I wish I was holding her.
dreams disappear with the light
and the past could belong to anyone
maybe will get picked up by a big jacket carrying a new spiv
the last night alone
the river flows to the sea
but I wish it would be so easy to get to her, then no
dreams disappear with the light
and the past could belong to anyone
or just lay there abandoned
the last night alone
what’s the future but now forgotten?
and I wish she could be here so much as to let her out of my sight
dreams disappear with the light
and the past could belong to anyone
a lost fish, a mute star
the last night alone
before she comes
and she will hold my hand
and I’ll tell her,
"Dante found a bigger world,
while if left only with the smaller
would have committed suicide",
and take her to see the factories
13. j
He is joy
his love to be joined
cancel the black
inspiration in his fingers
hurting the nails
heart-pain transformed
a flower drinking rain
beauty not to be seen
but felt
He is joy
held within her hand
cancel the cold
glory in his skin
thrilling the soul
all lack erased
a new sprout finding light
beauty not to be spoken
but tasted
He is joy
no more to be alone
14. r
wondrous rush of wind through cattails
show the hill beyond
that’s sun in your hair
that raindrop, the one I told you about
it hit the tree here, then slid down
to this spot on the ground
it’s wounded
warm breathing from just the other side of the tall grass
who moves?
15. j
i cannot escape beauty
on my shoulder
though i'm in the ditch
on my hands
through useless toil
at my skull
when evil lurks within
at my heels
even when i flee it
tiny reduced tiny
walking the hills
and valleys of a
single yellow rose
feet never tire on
petals
heart and mind flow
out of the blood
out of my mouth
drenching my path
letting me slide
i want to ask my father
how he came to marry
science to God
heart of gold
and mind of steel
ah the splendid glory
in all my numbered hairs
they never question why
they never ask for more
they only seek to leave me
crossing glades and rivers
walking to the sun
dropping from this golden bulb
floating back to earth
i break my harsh fall
on a single yellow rose
16. r
on a footpath
a window filled with flames
opens
accepts
blood
gold
and
hair
17. j
feet fixed on tremendous rock
not on porous hope
a flame with scores of tiny windows
each opening to
truth
love
possibility
and failure
18. r
the flames jump out
licking the face
looking inside
saints shovel coal through the eyes
keeping it burning
the heart
19. j
and so i burned my heart
harder and faster everyday
i embraced my folly
and drank it down quickly
by the time i reached thirty
the needle hit 'E'
i had no more left to give
i stayed that way for a season
now i spot a filling station
up ahead on the left
20. r
rocks in flight
dashing through turbines
tumbled into place
with wide gaps
the long line
laid without mortar
21. j
water mixing with
soil, cement, skin
no glue
to stick us together
skipping along
a smooth rock dancing
from one tragedy
to the next
a wry smile about my mug
they'll never really break me
i'm waterproof
22. r
i held that hand, but who led?
now, what is in between?
bewilderment, longing...
my heart blinks
is that a diving board?
the pieces absently left behind come back
the what I at one time thought was everything
never belonged to me
and tomorrow
what I now know
won't be mine either
the creaks, the moans, the blind spots
next to the crates of polite and mysterious destructions
faces and phantoms
restless and roaming
return as well
but their elevator isn't there
when the doors open
23. j
the sun is blinding off the snow
just like her memory
it is cold
i stepped through the door
and found no floor
now my feet are soaked
and my head is sweaty
january in detroit
24. r
with riding boots and a red chair
i rushed her absent face
the end is the place to begin
for what could have been
across the chimney smoke
the outline of a pigeon
25. j
been shuffling for miles and miles
faded brown boots worn clear through
the air is wet around here
when i finally reached her tower
vacancy was the only trace of her
and so i stumbled back again
to cracked pavement and black snow
there the creature lay:
matted feathers gray and white
broken beak and twisted neck
melting into dark plowed snow
a man with thirty voices and two red eyes
said, “that pigeon’s name is Chester!”
...just another song about a bird
26. r
unto the creatures vacancy
the bars squinted and fled at the sound of a mongoose dragging a plow
slipping into the wounds that lay fresh on a once frontier she wore as her smile
her bare swish of sighs, peeled laughter, bark of skin surges
the drifting siege approached its reward, driven to the lilac sea brougham
fingers of dry lightening- hand in a toaster, migrations through an empty yoke
lips a hundred times heavy with mangrove sultry hibiscus
coughed onto the still ice
head in a bag of bad air, the idle remainder
hung on the hanger of my mute furnace
27. j
WHAT I LEARNED YESTERDAY
I learned to breathe bad air
heavy scented with the taste of chalk
It's all about the adjustments
mix and match lungs and the geometry of skin
If I think of her as a triangle
then it doesn't matter that I'm so square
I learned to speak with a dry mouth
caught in the throat and clipped
It's all about the will
mix and match syllables and the cost of thought
If I think of her as a word
then it doesn't matter that I don't know the
language
I learned to walk on the sea
ever shifting and frothy
It's all about faith
mix and match gravity and the law of Neptune
If I think of her as a fish
then it doesn't matter that I'm drowning
Shard Cheddar Begins group 1)
1.
between darkness and tomorrow is a parting shadow
her attitude was just a reflection
the grey line up on a tree after a flood
bark like skin clinging to bones in a bathtub
ball bouncing in an ice cube
our worlds frozen with fear in our throats
eyelashes and moustache, warm shower to cold air
scorched moonlight
that peels right off the skin
in a moment, all lost
2.
the sun is a camera flash, days our picture
time is irrelevant outside this bar
None of the keys fit
the tumbler won't turn, it's to get out not in
focus of the eye won't help you here
smoke and rain mix to make a velvet blanket
Hello was her engine and goodbye her gasoline
i blinked and she left me on an island
3.
i knew who i was the first time you said my name
all else washed clean away in the fury of your eye
i knew who i was the last time too
miss covers the brain... heavy
you gave me back my body but the gift was meant to keep
now i'm a stranger in my own skin, looking for directions
an empty suitcase after a long flight
i recall just a trace of your mornings
i play your part and dress
Braidios continued
28. j
plastic over my eyes
i didn't count the cost
letting go by littles
rather than at once
hang on saint jude
all causes are not lost
Sun painted sidewalks
ready to skin the arms
of careless kids on bikes
Pink painted toes
and sour iced lemonade
chase the ill away
and float down Spring's river
29. r
white caps have changed direction
southern wind
i'll never sleep again
Charp Shedder (group 2)
4.
i am too proud to have only been born
time is my country... my peacock love
Centuries held in my breath... waiting to be told
my cloud is lion fire with ocean feathers
blue, white, orange, and green
seen through the trees by lightening
the river's tail holding the horizon
sky and earth blur to form my path
byways marked as rising
North was somewhere i forgot... and so
i’ll jus ride wit da sun ta get my orientation
Centuries held in your breath... waiting to unfold
hands flecked gold from handling wings
head and blood thinned from this altitude
warnings- the myopia of forgetting, the lights obscure stars
but your course in not drenched in limitation
of the rather lived pug-whistles
North was somewhere you remembered... and so
...exhale
Braided continued
30. j
blue days for gray rain
slipped and hit my skin
can't get out from under
all this heavy love
breathing all the better
dry lungs and clear skull
metal on metal
rock on rock
skin on skin
fear on fear
like things shouldn't collide
31. r
out on the ocean
there is a fire
burning on the surface
in the heavens
the cool emptyness of space
inside sound, the silence
in its proportion
land heaving to
ajusting its forever
32. j
i went back to the junkyard
tried to buy back yesterday
thought i had fair value
gave the man forever
all he gave me was today
33. r
heart knows its not fair
my rotting peach
attracting bees and other wings
ants come up the table legs
to eat without delay
will the pit behind
return an orchard
34. j
traded gravity for other wings
scratched the sky with stretched fingers
a little blood crept through
and washed away my innocence
science and faith... a potent cocktail
can't fit my crimson fingers in my head
can't fix my useless feet on solid rock
can't find a place for all this knowledge
35. r
i will be rich
gave my soul to a bird
so when it returns
i will know flight
the bird sings
and was eaten
for its meat
feathers fell away
36. j
the feather fell away
washed in the chopped river
what is it under that surface
trying to punch free?
stealing all it touches
delivering free of charge
i'm here with lucky buoyance
deconstructing all the waves
just like lovers under covers
37. r
i own my right foot right
my left foot left
they walk the plank
and i dive
i dive
my hands first
my feet last
and i plunge
38. j
can't remember when
i decided to dance
all the way across the tightrope
the joy of dancing
replaces the fear of falling
i twist my heart to find:
the wounds
the gaps
the skips
all the instances covered in ignore
all the glories turned to ash
never forget!
all failure starts with success
and fear should never motivate
39. r
i had a shield
a covering
una cascara
and i begged
to have the breast plate
split open
so the heart was the first skin
the nose
of the comet
40. j
solid water
night sky in my veins
determination shatters
beg for the light
here comes thunder's cousin
41. r
stars -holes in the umbrella
lightening -leaks
radiance in puddles -shining back
lovers gazing at each other
across a table
42. j
1000 kisses in your blink
shaking all the earth
splash around in love
then hang me on the line
to sponge in all your breezes
43. r
is this land hollow
a piñatas insides
ricocheting flames
and pierced by arrows
falling to pieces
but never rubble
always filling
but never full
butchers tides
lovers strikes
hands two
heart one
the earth would be round
even if it wasn't
in such a hurry
to be all at once
SHRPCHDDR (group 3)
5.
green fear, red hands, and a serpent's soul
i want to hang my halo by Emelda's tounge
and my sorrows around her porcelain temples
wrap us for a journey into the pyramids of a tokyo hotel
slippery walls... dark with forgiven sin
dark with love's tender flakes
It was ten years ago she walked through that door
made balloons in the shape of animals
with her poison eye and her tricky hands
her talk of redemption
shook the tiny instruments in my ears
turned my path into the sun
singed my fingers on her olive skin
and made thunderclaps sound of song
Li Mo was just a kid but he already lived 100 Years
he was self winding and growing into an Oldsmobile
fast, sturdy, comfortable... just like his sister, Emelda
from down on Millpox corner
where spring is orange, summer golden
and strangers are kin
but Li Mo had a bigger secret to impart
Li Mo was a toad
hopping from place to place forging his sister's will
securing letters of introduction from the animal kingdom
for Emelda was to marry in the morning
again, this time to a butterfly's defensive splendor
and I knew my time with her would be short
losing each other in the night
Red fear, green hands and a sister's soul
silence- the nearer edge, breathless claws
scratching the skin on the brink of joy
caboose pulling the scabs, the wincing leap
over the falls and under the landings
44. j
o to be fierce
hot like concrete in august
breathe under water
and carry the world
dance like ginger
and sing like frank
pocket the sun
and glow in the dark
temper the rage of nations
and drink up all the ocean
i'll give you
all the
answers
shatter all the earth
dream
with your eyes open
45. r
I thought
just as well
someone has to
and said "thanks"
for the offer
of more
lumpy gravy
but you see
I have had all
the lumpy gravy
I can stand
the sun melted
the ice off my eyes
then the sun
left me for darkness
and I slipped
on the frozen puddles
into an ocean
of sharks like me
who carry and nestle
with delicate flowers
in the deep
where we swallow
the reflection of stars
and dream
forever dream
of a surface
not broken by rain
46. j
the cold sun blistered
my warm ocean and
i forgot how to fear
my inclinations gathered
i decided this
cast off what is thrust upon
dance when there
is no moon
laugh with
tears in your mouth
love against
all this world's
hatred
i decided this
47. r
yes
all there is
is yes
but then
but then
locusts
they dream
from eggs emerge
showers of
sodden nets
your right
always right
there is more
to an ocean than water
there are boats
&
that floating
does wonders
for the surface
&
that
the bottom
the bottom
wants to rise
to reach
to clutch
to avenge its heavy curse
but that it is
dancing
that enters the sky
that
it's laughter
that is weightless
that it is love
that heals
what the world brings
it brings
begging light
forgive me
me
but i'm scared
that freedom
is a trick
with sharp bones
and
they'll know
it's been stolen
48. r
this morning
i had a dream of a tartan girl
in warriors dress
who asked me to sit on her lap
and in parenthesis i saw the words
(prelude to a marriage bed)
ha
49. j.
last week i dreamed
you and i were walking
along a river bank (i think
the wrong way) cause all
the natives (don't know
where they were native to)
were walking the other
way... you kept diving
in the water then
i woke up 'cause nora
moved or something
but what were you doing
in the water all that time?
50. r
you know
a river
is only
what's between
the source
and the sea
51. j
the constant motion made my skull spin
1000 negativities trapped inside 1 YES
life now with water ballooning both my lungs
the earth looks just like sky from way down here
a curse on all Warmongers
they never taught me how to fly... just spoke again:
love is for heels
love is for heels
love is for heels
my mouth expelling like a river
i'm a statue called Achilles
astride a golden fountain... sunflowers in my eyes
they splash they leap they swim they slither
i've turned them all to toads
52. r.
long time toads
transformed by a spell
statue of a man
once a god
decades of broken wings
blown to the ground
a thousand thieves sinking
no trace into the night
the marks of the war
for love
kill or be killed
“hold me”
he tries
she tries
to say
“i am my underneath”
in a red puddle
between distant shores
53. j.
I would have lurched forward
out of these staining waters
had i the sand
the ability to take a life by force
but the sinews are so wrapped
along my outer skin and
trickling between each rib
of my heart's cage
holding my shoulder to my arm
and my arm to my shoulder
flowing in my disrupted bloods
and dancing in my brain's television
so much so
that i can't decipher importance or grief
flowers painted gray overthrowing love
i would have soared forward
out of these freezing waters
had i the fervor
the ability to give my life by grace
but the fingers are so twisted
sidewalks can't form the chords and
skyscrapers forgot the words
of my heart's rage
blocking the sun from my eyes
and my eyes from the sun
the empty lot's a skipping record
repeating in my brain's phonograph
so much so
that i can't find the right song
to turn the roses red again
54. r.
my soul is made for combat
wins with every breath
on a wire strung
between fire and wave
a length of heart cord
walked in wooden shoes
with coal miner eyes
and swollen tounge
eager
and happy laughing
with a shotgunned
spagettied chest
wounded
and walking
along a wire
strung between fire and wave
bathed in the blood of the sun
boyant in the glow of the moon
55. j.
i was built in the seventies
iron, steel, and glass
from science and music
religion minnesota
and coal pennsylvania
i was built in the seventies
dropped down from the moon
landing in a field of gasoline flowers
don't remember how to break
just plug me in and juice my soul
i was built in the seventies
i'll never be obsolete
56. j.
CLOCKS
sometimes the moon gets in my skin
and i can't remember tomorrow
only what it will bring
then it all seems to shift
like plate tectonics and divine
inspiration
i gather up my pack and sing
while the road is open
and my burden unheavy
all time leads to avenues
more or less traveled and
the tips of my fingers burn
as i turn the hands counter
so as to move forward
57. r.
CLOQ
so as to move forward
my pockets fill with wind
my arms are set wide
and my hard drive is full
but its my clock that runs slow
keeping random time
as icicles don’t melt
but perspire
where as, it's the moon that keeps its cool
visits all the nicest places
while its best friend warms the avenues
and by-ways during the day
and in case, there is night
there are lights
that warm people far away
and warm me
seated on the melting wind
58. j.
there's a curve in the air
disrupting visions
i can taste the salt in the sky
and the rain on my shoes
the sun is gray and bitchy
and the soup's gone tepid
but way back in the corner
(just out of view)
pipe dreams turn to reality
love settles on the foreheads
and birds aren't the only ones
who can fly
59. r.
The wind comes mostly from the west—fact.
The water settles in the lowest of places.
The sun paints the surface warm.
And at night the sky escapes.
Yet still some birds get lost,
happy in between,
weighing on the wires.
And I’m glad we’ve all emerged
from the hollow shell of winter.
Corners are straightened by perfume.
And the eyelashes of the least bit green
wave and tangle
reaching for open windows.
And those stale framed scenes from offices
are pitched on the fire.
Dinosaur footprints
Laugh forgotten flags.
Even the concrete dances
Buckles to display its stains.
Every bit a broken shell.
60. j.
i am quitting breakfast
smooth rain running
over rough glass
i am quitting breakfast
rough thoughts searching
over smooth legs
i am quitting breakfast
say hello to the day for me
61. r.
rough telegraph
peppermill balloons
belching under
clouds on the run
soft expiration
wet newspaper
stuffed in the mouths
of bulls
sea foam blood
gasping collapse
a frayed extension cord
dangled
down a drain
arm wrestling a fuse
my money
a rubber hammer
an ironing board
used to surf
I quit breakfast
and the no use mutilation
and roosters
flash frozen
a day
fairly named: piñata
needing
a clear the bleachers
hello
62. j.
i never got the message
lines gave way to
shifts and cracks along
surfaces used for standing
with all the lights of treason
championing my imperfection
i had to guess
what it was you wanted
what it was you needed
what it was you gave away
a whispered word and
touch along the shoulder
an apology from deep
inside my guts
a length of rope long enough
to tie our hearts apart
i read it in the news today
you skipped for the other coast
63. r.
there is a chill that blows through space
between electric poles and telegraph
lines stretched over the Marianas
trench where dough-boys wait for
the whistle calling them into no mans
land
sorry comes in a deck
its never enough
of cards with girlies
to be a turtle
on the back
stepping slow
look out—there are cities
why doesn’t anyone believe me
Civilizations-rules of proper distance
bees playing at it with the flowers
stars in nights of pain and broken
light, cold as tombs
hoot owls sharing a pint
between trains
64. j
inside out &
born to an end
the morning
spewed me out
of her hot mouth
just like the good
Lord
& faith luke-warm
now i have sulfer
on my tongue
& it's hard to talk
about this and about
that
when all the world hurts...
this afternoon:
laughter
laughter
laughter
65. r
genuine
dizzy genuine,
i am going to die
in the morning's beak
it will spit me
out severed
or swallow me whole
to sing some dark pasty trigger
happy grumble quake
my's guts is o'er loaded
magpies within and magpies without
flying into the face of the sun
like matches
whispering in petrol's bloom
i'm inside out
dizzy genuine,
being born
66. j
i wanted to live free of this
trade technology for dirt
and never be clean
i've pasted laughter all over my skull
and i can't find that genuine smile
at the bottom of a pint
or a turn of Lorca's verse
i've sent out letters and mumbled prayers
trying to slip between
the darkness and the light
i can feel the end in every nerve
but tomorrow is all beginning
and belief is always tardy
don't know when i hopped this train
but my brain now starts to dizzy
every stop a bigger gamble
i'm afraid to jump off
67. r
crickets swallowed razor blades
while their milky blood spread over the moon
and cobwebs crept up a blanched egret
that peered down through the surface skim of algae
waiting for the resplendent fish to blink
and give away the vault
i dropped between their wounds
and started to dig
with a pick i broke through my teeth
and wearing a carbide lamp i dropped down my throat
i hid behind my heart when i sparked the charge that blew apart my guts
i climbed down through the bits and spread my map out over the twitching pulp
i knew it should be just ahead
but in the way that you know things that happen only once—i felt myself dying
i'd come too far, was too close
"gravity help me" i leapt into the echo
the wind whistled over my ears
i'd always been mute before beauty
suddenly the cold crept up my limbs
and i was done before the bottom
68. j
that cricket lives near
the outer edge of my left ear
after a while
you don't even notice the chirp
my heart forgot the patterns
to decipher the difference
between gravity & beauty
both cause a falling
with no never mind of a landing
i looked at the map
but felt a bit dumb
i stopped having faith in cartographers
the day i got lost in my skull
chirp
i was hoping to start the journey
but i can't find my shoes
i think i left them far chirp behind
stuck in chirp the mud at the age of 7
chirp but chirp to take a step chirp
now is chirp all chirp chirp chirp
chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp
chirp
69. r
there was an inkjet picture of a parrot
scotch taped to the electric meter
between deep shelves stocked with various paprikas
spinning—thirty three about and a third—the dial
chirp and chirp
and chirp
while two men (one in suspenders
of yellow elastic yard sticks)
talked from their registers
about how Honda special editions
got the same keys
and his was driven away
by mistake last night
men, enough like me
the colored bird too
chirp and chirp
a face on an appetite
i imagine them
all, us, any two, separating
the bird away in the dark
leaves fluttering down a stream
and strangers fondling
strangers keys
the earth squeaking round
smeared over with halogen
and sobbing shadows
stones
who feel as much as me
these footprints
can only be followed
maps
back from where they came
myself
or memories
dwindling free
the year, grim born, sharpening it's permission
dead Leopaki's daughter
is still next week giving herself
to California
we, us diamonds, broken from a larger pain
scatter
scatter apart
called forward
courageous
mutinous
trembling
the ocean heard in the hollow shell
is our own
and appropriate
Niagara
my hands warm
pink
flush with life
reach
70. j
as the sea began to snap
i started the conversation
hello bird...
you seem a bit shy
i've never had the courage
to fly
i take these steps into
a forever of tomorrows
and my shoulders are sore
flinching
you seem a bit shy
my eyes only ever saw 'till nightfall
never on to morning
what's it going to take to make this right?
71. r
it’s me again
outside’s behind some windows
sun’s behind clouds, partly
willing
birds
i heard them earlier
wouldn’t normally have looked
honestly, whatever
all this nature
has nothing to say
except as fingerprints
leading back in the wrong direction
later there were geese on the lawn
i saw that one’s neck
was longer than another’s
mostly thought about them
as food
noticed how now its normal
not strange
that some stay
throughout the year
and that i have a name
a past reflected in the glass
well worn with separation
72. j
it's me again
looking for time
outside this skin
the glass is cold
only when it's touched
i thought the sun was warm
was i right?
i've left 1000 times
how is it that the journey
always ends right here
eyes a bit sadder
shoulders a bit stronger
soul a bit sleepy
when i've hidden my heart
i talked to the songbirds...
it's this plague of humaness
that really gums my wings
take-offs were always worse
than landings
73. r
high in the thermals
gliding over the sea
under faces soul between
fire licked skin
mad flapping wings
shovels of love
pitched at the breeze
city of veils
frozen tears of glass
death shattered light
grinding eyes black
these stones that filled
my pockets are free
74. j
free
like falling forever
branches scratch
face
neck
shoulders
i know secrets
that hurt my heart
and make my brain
small
i placed all this trouble
deep in my pocket
with little coins
old receipts
a forgotten fortune
& tiny yellow flowers
trouble likes to hide
75. r
What’s that, so sharp a light,
the sun, as if one wounded eye
makes them both wince,
as the day is divided in two?
Feeling, fondling… a stone...
no... a snowball, melting
like memory, as if
its a puddle below
reflecting up
while shadows sink deeper
and light filters in from above
between the dark footprints of night;
as if losings were stars,
feelings blurred in other lights.
But all the while,
I’ve a body like a cradle
whose combination, like roots,
is locked in the vault of earth—
perfect,
brief,
and darkly mingled.
76. J,
perfect... brief...
i've pinched myself
so many times
trying to prove
existence
every hurt tells lies
about how it got there
every memory fondled
whispers far too low
i forget function
i forget duty
i forget labels
i forget
77. r
i wasn’t there but was made after
like a shadow, so much like
when i look straight down, there’s nothing
but light, some bank statements
elephants, a remote,
peanut marco , once hunger
shells
polo, serviette please
the tail end of
screams or laughter
or the dead
was it
or the dying to be
who control the all of flowers
with their mighty silence
frost spreads up from the lake
working white
tickling little shiver steps
no, silver, better yet
i wasn’t someone else’s
walking
no, where were my steps
though to nets
of later heat
