*navel gazing:

   here, this is where it started,
         this is where it severed,
         this first whirling scar,
                       it has always ached.
you keep picking
at that self-inflicted scar
primal wound
and it'll never fade


between glances
I am inadequate

and the words rearrange themselves
and the letters rearrange themselves

before I have a chance to speak them


for a limited time only (memory thought)
       there are three more
       pieces of the puzzle
(through meaning) offer void where good
(space/time is a puddle, events being singularities - their ripples a swell moving mostly forward but backward as well)
   by committee
      for target audience
          manufacturing mass
          market appeal
            from justin
            to kelly
            we can build you 

dagaz my attention
comes cracking. Look,

      that table, guy
      leaves a twenty
      for a tip. Tie
      tied tight enough
      to raise the guys
glaucoma risk a few percentage points

later, ya hear her
  "Power trippin he totally fucking
got that mmmmrghmph."

stomps foot, spins
     a clattering of silver
     draws her eye. She
betrays her outburst
with her sway, order pad
     in hand hunts the bus boy
     a housecat gone feral, all
fury, tail twitching,
                     gone gutteral

  boys got it, buried deep in pocket,
  didn't see a thing all don't mind me
  guv, whoohoo, that'll buy a bag,
  new cd, who knows. Just, bling,
  gotta take, gotta snag, it
no one knows. 'sides, there's change.
  some quarters. She'll write him
  off as a cock, never notice a thing
boy believes, seven steps from the
  swinging kitchen doors.

core. Kore.
     she be pissed.
     goddess of thieves looked
     on while Kore screamed
     for help and did nothing,

     Know how it feels to begrudge?

     Kore knows, holds that
     knowledge as a seed
These Flames I Play With, They Burn.*

I am not easily

it takes
     alpha waves

or a cat,
     perplexed by birdsong
     tiptoes through the venetian blinds
     eyes dilated

or a pretty lady
     slinging free-trade coffee
     while bright-eyed poets
     read from blank texts
          Skinny Legs
     (she's reading)And All,
          prefers Bukowski
          & Burroughs (to

as the moment stops
     imprints, imparts...

a long slow smouldering,


it wields you
this engine

it sculpts
from within

there are more things at stake here than just your humanity
(the essence of self-pre
                servation is
       the fear of

were you built anew
and each part given
as divine providence
an extropic essence
would this world satisfy?


days like this I feel scared to move
weaving, gingerly touching gingham
unsteady and saddened

as this bright little
companion passed on
her spark,
           oh she's
always so happy to see
you, she just loves carrots,
(and tissue paper filled with snot)

le tigra, I wish you
       carrots (tons)
to spot,
        blotto, blotted out

you gotta have a dog they told him
check nixon's checkered highlights - sympathy stash sways

a dog named spot?
potus, spot. spot, potus...

empty instincts and horsemeat
by limiting ourselves to a single path
we might actually be leading ourselves astray

this world does not love us
as poets and dreamers,
                 we soften

sultry, smooth.. whiskey
on ice and a stilted cadence
shapes her movements
"everything you write could be crap - you need to go to school..."
(smells of shit & chanel)

"you need to find your way back into the mainstream"
(spells stream like I'd been spawning)
I don't know that I believe her,
sometimes those closest to us are farthest away, the blindest

tell her "I'd rather drink turpentine and piss into a campfire"
see if she remembers the movie
tell her there are pretentious assholes on the hillside,
lighting campfires to awaken the sun
tell her the embers fade faster when scattered
(a one-sided convo with the closed-minded)


"throw me to the wolves"
 her throat moves, her voice shallow
     thrown by her lips
& hallowed by her kiss


remove these shards, her soft magic
        he's sharp, his hard
erratic, can't think that thought, though tragic
it obeys

holly and horn, all-creator, all-devourer (don't panic
janus eating/spewing rather, all fodder for the mill
all father for the millenium, cart him out on holidays
once around the lawn, uno, dominoes, go & quatro
whittle away the formless, the hourglass, "time til tea

her softness tears
a soft ache in me)
nightma dreams:

in another a mother across suffering, these

cat in one
hand dreams
.......................in another, stars
light the path
moon looks
.......................a mother, her
words as color
drape halo
.......................across suffering, edge
tender this night
as always

these, stars her edge

(look up there's an infinity crushing down on you)
       are you

       are you

       are you
           for public?


rage deforms

twisted, gnarled: the dark hag heart of the forest
wraps its craggy core
bones, burrows, crawl
between the roots, the leaves littering
leaves, all that is left behind

burroughs through that left behind
memento mori - death needs time (like joan needs gin
                                needed love)

dicarded, find
         i am loved
by one who understands only
  am loved

no performing for some percieved future jury, no reacting
no longer, the purpose revealed: the essence of prophesy
 overawed in the presence of divinity, unmade, undefined,
not this body am I, writhe feverish in gods spidered fractal embrace

have no reflection because they already

      the poet
charting only sensation fraught
with insincerity, false compassion

there are sacred sites heartdeep, sacred
sights wormweary -
sites buried in heart worn sensation

i come to an awareness that this I
is quicksilver, is memory fabricated, frail, fraught with more
than is destined: that only so much is bequeathed, (her-
itage is something passed - like language, like gas
cultural belch, the spirit digested, expelled...
betray in its sweat, its passing)

(the essence of) divinity is to be divided
                                        (and it aches)


*these dragons that do your bidding...
what cataclysm have they brought
with them?


to others
to their
their centers
gather together
  these, the seeds
    of all dreams
*knight takes castle
to find the princess
is her own dragon


she's looking for a playmate
in the land of broken toys

these wards
word of
f might
     ".. For everything, it seems,
seeks to conceal us
.." Rilke's ghost whispers, in english
now, translated in slow sips of morning tea, across the river
treasured lines flow from pen nubs so swollen
with premise, with intention, that the words
(as a shadow in the corner of the eye)
bequeath immortality to foolscap


so this suv
on the corner of Ohio & 14th
this suv, one of them narrower, top-
heavy ones, tan it looked like, it may
have been the snow though, anyway
this suv, right there near the top of
the hill, next to the bar there
surrounded by blue and red
flashing lights there's cops
and an ambulance and
a fire engine even and
tow trucks, two of 'em
and this suv, top heavy,
rolled halfway down the hill

a blindness
projected across a memory
itself autistic
projections, echoes of desire

we men
are all


parenthetical politico

(gods own truth        as if truth were
a commodity (just
                                                       Isa 5:23
like liquor) which      can be traded up
for a new model
                        when the old one      is no longer interesting)
(eventually tradition   bypasses heresy      becomes subsumed
                        by the masses)


she kissed me and I hold it like a bracer,
not knowing how else to taste
these winter memories
everything that falls apart is
a new
kind of to-
ness, and I am
a maze she
the muse
i'm me,
a he,
so really
there's only
one she
adamantine soul loses control
      look what happens:

in love with
pain i
fraud i
fault i
fall away..

2000 years of cut lures
      fishers of men:

you cannot expect this false
shill to bequeath reason

fire remembers, brings back
these tasks
watch your back! it's cold out there
cave at ((caveat)+(meal i've)) teat = cat eat me alive


fear of footnotes she's given me*
these are the words that roam, that terrify:

       "D.e.a.t.h. to the fascist insect
that preys upon the life of the people,
this little horn that pricks, that leads. This bleeds." jules.*

"Death? quis custodiet ipsos cust..."

"Don't ever antagonize the horn. Death."

*jooles? joules? jewels?


she took me to her chapel
and we watched the navidson record
projected on the wall     stereo
         surrounded us
more here
we take turns peeling the mask away
these sculptures, they are husks marking       territory..
remnants from the unveiling
there, a searing, cauterized
     grown bitter marking       hydrant..
cocksworn & bone sore his creativity irrevocably
intertwinned within his prostate gland


corporate minion procrastination litany

the less work you do
the more money you make

the longer you put work off
the less work you do


born, then nothing: a shadow, a caul
draped across my face, scraped away;

the study of secrets, the occulted bloodline
the inversion, the cutting, the umbical cord
sheared away, replaced by a cancer, a church of hate

legal fictions, moral justifications built of resentment:
a new sort of edifice, a temple of fragmented shadows
nestled at my heart, where others chart their ancestry
the inbetween

how strange, a phone call
from a friend thought gone,
long lost to time's passage


I can see you stare at me
there's a wondering, pulsing - and then moments

nothing too subtle
conscription, understanding

the riot, the scabs, the verbal abuse

we ring skulls with billy clubs, night sticks

protect and serve


hardy girl, hardly clothed..

there are women surrounding me these days, fierce military women who want to be shot, stabbed, who steal bullet-proofing from the armory for evening formal wear, women who talk about dead children in bosnia, women who vote green, who vote communist, who wear fake fur and drink expensive vodka out of pretty bottles

(she says fear for me) and the days are the same days we had last year and the mornings are the same mornings we had last year and there's a child in the doorway longing for her dead father, whose accusing eyes i can no longer endure

and when the dawn casts its hollow light across the whitewashed lawns this cold, cold storm* will pass, and in its aftermath this child is gone, and a fragment realm breaks off, a world dissolves, and there is only communion, and shadows..

and these hardy women, hardly clothed
i am the source of all your problems

i make the sky shit ice
i devoured the last slice of key lime pie
i put the eggs at the bottom of your grocery bag
i smashed the first fruits of your harvest
i make your hate burn brighter

i am your liar              Everyone is looking for someone to blame


console me
table top me
role me over

red rover red
rover send mori
on over, ashes
ashes ashes all

watches fall

remember her

her fragile center cannot hold,
she waits hollow, stars align
between the memory and the thought
she is suspended, crystalized,
abstractions, abreactions - thorn in my mind


remember here

this place, this tracing of her nails across my face

and the starlight obscured
and the moon dimmed
and the sun is blue
through the haze of incineration
these poets want
your blood

for ink,
it's understood.
gots it all & us gots nada

it happens in morning, there's money involved.

cold mornings, mornings when tow trucks arrive
black cat stares out across snow, the trees limbless, stripped from the tornado
the vortex that moved in wichita, that spirals out
there's only ever one, the last one, the big one

only ever one bombing in OKC,
only ever one anthrax attack,
one ricin incident,
one columbine,
one columbia,
one waco,
one lone gunman...

19 terrorists on 911 & you know their faces,
know their memories like stripes on an altar, stars on a cross, they conjoin
and the interlace becomes a matrix
and it's hitlers birthday come 4/20
and there's more to your philosophy than heaven and earth

in between the status, the state of the union a most perfect union
say it with me
there's amore, perfunctory union that aye alone cannot imagineer, these union
laborers, this
aggression will not stand, come this body republic*

we are ghosts, us
gots it all & us gots nada

gots this black cat staring down at a friday thirteenth, full moon
wolves come out on sunday, come out of the woods just a foot from the road

(wolf wits, war's a rough ma*)


it's just us now, the we is dead. somewere,
a dipthong longs for its morpheme
a soldier longs for his morphine,
it's almost like sex
the craving, not the having,
the meaning, not the needing..
remorse encoded in bits.
(we, not us, not you, we)
we take the piss.
*by square, compass, & ruler will I create worlds anew.

(by gavel too)


she kissed me (i'm going to kiss you she said)

the walls fell away and above us the roof vanishes, around us winter dissolves and we are between worlds, and for a moment these individual selves merge, contemplate sensation, skin hungry against denim, a finger brushes a nipple, palms flat against my back, her back, we are locked together in an embrace as hungry as our mouths, and I know, somewhere, in the back of my brain, the screaming fear of rejection awakens, envy stirs, and the exquisite sadness of tomorrow begins to distill from the mish-mashed word salad of pillow talk, staining these pre-dawn moments with awkwardness

my perception cleansed of anticipation and i see her, through blind eyes and tense, tangled hair