a few breaths

i woke up when the phone rang
announcing that the owners mannual was here
but where here is is a mystery
a cloud settles on a leaf
in a snow storm
hungry blue dogs roam in the tune
of the first wind passing through
an aeolian harp
on a rock in the north sea
the pink sperm stands up in an egg
and turns brown scorched in a xerosere
you get three breaths
and you can't hold any one of them
for more than a few minutes

roof

mr turpentine found his heart
in a bottle of wine
i am happy
as long as the rain has a roof over its head
he said

greenbacks

anything for more money
she said
and it spread like fire
in a paper factory
where the workers were paid minimum wages
which made her rich
after awhile all she could see were green backs
not a trace of a face in sight
she piddled and frittered and shammed everyone because
everyone resembled a dead president
who had just taken the oath of office
with a knot of promises for a necktie
and today's special...the menu announced...
but all she heard was a cough
from the coffers
and a distant jingle
and her spiked heels clomping on marble floors
under a five thousand dollar suit
she felt fine
she felt sexy
she was pushing open the doors of the courtroom
and she knew she was going to win

but

today will be different
even though it is perfectly accuweathered with rain
falling from the sun
today our wounds will have lunch
with forget me knots
but it will be different from last week
it will be monday again certainly
and it will be a gloomy day
for the marketplace selling yesterday's thanksgiving turkeys
butterballs
wrapped in plastic and frozen by men and women
working in refrigeration boxcars
but it will be different from the first day
of my life
and it will still be my life
but it will be different in its diffidence
as we munch and swallow our talk
it will padded with buffers made of weasel
ears but
we owls will know better and listen to the movements
of our necks in the dark restaurant
and tufted titmice will
jabber incessantly at the bar
nevertheless
but no... always the less
unlike the first time i said
world
it will be seen through the clouds
exhaled by the salamanders serving us frogs legs
and yes we will smile it is true
but…

imagination

imagination is a wall
that moves
i ran into it headlong
years ago
it trims all the bushes
it makes governmental
decisions and
paints the days with colors
from paint factories
today
i completely forgot myself
and walked straight into the conference
room
but i didn't know anybody there

colloquy

there must be a way
without this ambitious colloquy
with a god that doesn't exist
with a purpose that is a chameleon of changing
intentions
without these predictable outcomes
for every action
there must be a way
to live like the horses in the field across the road
who do not stop dead in their tracks
to watch the sun sink below the horizon
who do not collect orange and purple sunrises
there must be a way
to be
without lying my way out of myself
a helping hand that understands itself without my signature
one step behind the next
without directions or expectations
or a memory that distorts every footfall with recollected fears
without laying claim to the road
or the labor and its suffering dissolving
into nothing
i am tired of my insomnias
and my disappointments with competing appetites
i am tired of eating
i am tired of fighting
i am tired of creating what has already been created
and marketed countless times
i am tired of falling down
and tired of getting up in the dark
there must be a way to live
beyond the chemistry and physiology
of this unknowable alchemy
these transformations into transformations
without the promise of turning into gold
there must be a way to live in a house
without being owned by the household
without being callous apathetic or bought
and sold
there must be a way
but there isn’t
so i stand under a black tree in the black starless predawn
darkness
and talk with my forked tongue to the invisible lightning
that doesn’t exist until it does

this house

no animals are allowed in this house
except for pets
i stood in the yard and looked up
at the big dipper
the same stars i saw when i was a child
i am childless
or else my children are strangers
i do not travel
i go to the city
i share a bed with a woman
but we do not touch
i work for money
that is insufficient to pay for my rent
and my food and clothing
so i beg borrow and steal
every chance i get
i use credit
which depresses my spirit
i owe more than i will ever repay
i have a degree that is worthless
i make art that is never seen
or sold
i have no hope for anything i haven't
already lost
i bring plants indoors
and forget to water them
i have dreams and visions
of the future which is blank
i have friends who are not friends
i love my lover for all the wrong reasons
the weather is strange we no longer
have four seasons
i feel hypnotized and polarized
disprized and super~sized
in a culture of liars i live my lies
just like all the others
i am finally ready to die
in this house that is not my house

to approximate meaning

despite doubt
a token
at best
not a niche worth defending
or a reason
for being written
a no~show
a wedding's refugee
a landscape that looks undeveloped
from the asphalt road
but ironically the No Trespassing signs
give it away
an utter lack furthermore no music neither
paragraphs that try
to end dead
serious
and solemn
witness this
insanity that died in poverty
at 4 he met with and spoke to
god
one of them anyway
in a vision of delusion
raptured over
with piffle

fields of gold

her horses are grazing in the sparkle of routine routines
as if there were no tomorrow no torque in the engine of time just a fine
sprinkle of piano and harmonium tinkling on the still warm air
that could easily slip forward or backward but stalls in neutral eternity
leaves fall from the branches but never hit the ground
her autumnal thighs mount another winter
but her eyes see starlight cascading into the snow
falling upwards
the blue snow
and the brown fields
that continue to riot
in fields of gold


for terri clark

(from) body of an animal

it is one thing to look at an image of a human fetus and to see an unfinished creature... on its way to becoming human.... it is another thing altogether to see adults as unfinished, premature, half evolved....
*
i never thought i'd last this long in the body of an animal.
*
i am second away from awakening
standing still in the noise like a monument to moonlight
i keep cemeteries i evaporate in a factory i left decades ago
in this zoo my body the blinds never shiver
in the silver
walls bend....
i am a second away
*

something else

you are something else
puppet master without faith
in the puppets
i will go with you
to the end of the earth
once again
what a day
tranquility for the hunted
who have come back to burn down their own house

the new lawn

the new lawn was full of dreams
then the sun rose blinding its countless eyes
the wet blades glistened
silver white bayonets
in the magnified destruction roots jumped up
on fire
the fire leaped
back at the sky
and the sky filled
with smoke

for t.c.

i thought of you once.
i loved you once.
i looked into your eyes. once.
and it never ended.

darkness

i knew i was heading into the long night
but a darkness darker than night had descended
the rear view went black
there was no looking back now
the lights died in dark that seemed to ooze
up out of the road
then the road too fell away
and i was falling through space
and time stood still like a hummingbird
i could hear the silence buzzing like the
wings of a bee
i let go of the wheel
there was nowhere to go
there was nothing i could do
the fall seemed endless
and then i was no longer falling
up or down backward or forward
i had finally arrived at the present
fixed alone content with my desire
for you

woman

my exiled flight in your symmetrical gaze
makes its bed suddenly always it is always
suddenly
in the sky without fluttering
a solitary hour leaps over the limits
of my children's soil
born blind under a hard rain
you brought me a metalic cup of yellow smoke
for my militant imagination my inner thirst
unfolding in the snowbound wrinkles of patience
your starry poppies for my chilled bloodstone
opened my hard heart between highways
hand in hand
with its mineral aroma
lonely dreamer adrift in the infinite present
i am not the wall around us
nor the translucent birds at the feeders
there is a darker forest running away
with phantom beauty and the song of
obligations
i am not the ring encircling this century of noise
but somewhere underneath the surfaces
under the untouchable buildings of glass
we are the measured names
and the last straws
too late to deny
or ignore

silence is best

i get her 2 liners. the texts and emails.
the brief infrequent phone calls are a voice
in a plastic box on vacation
from anything impractical.
contact.
contact but nothing significant...
contact.
the briefer it is the less it says…
the more it does not say….
i respond: no comment…
sometimes silence is best.
*

weightless

the anxiety slashed me it curled me into a fetus of fear the fear cancered me
for years and then it killed me
many times
i am with you not of you
my pain is weightless
my thoughts a narrative of escapism
suicidal dance in the shadow of our rubbish
everything goes in the frenzy and the trance
the song and dance
of eatting corpse
i don't know how or why
but i fly downstream to the sea
and i don't stop there
i can hear you speak
to your self in your own voice
in your mind as you read
i think this is eternity
i don't want to die

i do not agree

in the morning light i see
a yellow footprint made by the night
scarification of nocturnal amputations
i was born carrying my hands
i say: all our mistakes are tying new
nerves into knots
the green leaves watch the stars escape
in broad daylight
a wind with silver muscles slaps me in the face
and gets away with it
dawnlit thieves whose oaths in the undergrowth
put a lizard in my mouth
tonight the night frightens itself
to death
the feathered mountain cannot fly
lightning is unleashed but it is not free
i might comply
but i do not agree

maybe

winter attended my birth
in memory we conclude
this puppetry with a lantern
under the bed
that abyss in your savage
heart with bloody deeds holding up a wine glass
my soul is chained to mindless pomposity
like a butterfly of dust to a river
or your face when you first slithered
out of your mother
clotted with blood
from a shattered august you arrived whole
in your fragrance a lost child
with the same dark strength of the new moon
in the branches woven through the naked
birds
the rain was nude also
and sad also
without a melody
but there was
a contraption that spied you
through the fog
and numbered the days
*

how the devil
talks nonsense
the fruit of the womb
crucified in the palm of his hand
trees without trees in their leaves
the children are in charge of troublemaking
there are four skies in the sky
and vices beside the still waters
where you were beside yourself celebrating
but she was raped
and we went on as if she didn't
exist
*

maybe
to know her deadly kiss
her cold tongue
in my sleeplessness through the sky’s passageways
her electrifying nocturnal fragrance and
vertical dawns
will bow me down
before her double sided face of purity
and suffering
she says: you are small in my silence
lost in my wandering precision
possessed in my pitiful selfishness
noon cobbles the way beginning with midnight
it is a terrible thing cried a mindless protest
in the bitter tower of my fabled black snow
*

candy

if your clitoris tasted like licorice
my eyes would be smiling not speaking
the stoners in the parking lot rehearse oblivion
and couldn't care less about the days' insatiable
appetites
(worm dust or
gallexies in smithereens)
if your wrinkled nipples tasted like fried aluminum
insane asylums or
a tropical strength mosquito repellent that can't stop laughing
in the panting chattering or something else distracting
we'd just jingle and get along
but the parking lot won't last it used to be a tree
until it rained poisoned frogs
everything is a miracle until you kill it
with your shoe's tooth
look at the moth perched on the rim of the moon's reflection!
you taste like cherry candy in a box from a factory
a factory where your mother went crazy

mindspring (by anthony and william dimichele)

i went to the mindspring
an oasis in a desert
the place has been off limits to humans
since the 1930s
and so has gone wild
i was the first white man there
to see such vast vistas
and to hear the silence
that was immense
it covered me and everything else
with its invisible blanket
i knew in my heart which was suddenly
enlarged
what it meant to be part of the earth
rather than an occupant
of rented space
there were no other humans on earth
but me and there were
a few flies
the mountains were punched up and isolated
blocks of jagged rock
the alluvium
crept up their sides in low
long slopes
they were alive and almost
organic
i too was detached
and part of it all
i did not need a hand to hold or
the reassurance that someone else
was just over the hill or at home
waiting
i wanted to crouch down in the sun
expectant but for what
i did not know...
now i am back
not deeply changed
but more solitary than ever before
our place is in the wild
by the ocean or in desert spaces
places where we are neither beggars
nor kings
but bits of the foundational dust
eternal
*

changing faces

It is too late
to change faces
or to buy peace and freedom
from doubt
last night I dreamed you were wearing
a white gown
perched above a wedding party
on a chair with long legs
holding you twenty feet
in the air
you had a lyre in your lap
and you hummed as you played
i was hiding in the woods
that bordered the clearing
by the river
watching
waiting
wrapped
in my black feathers
with the horizon in a circle
around my heart
like a cage

between 2 sorrows

on this stake
blind faith and
stubborn love are crushed under
some sunny day's
unimaginable weight
thinking i am you
will not drive
the storm
from the heart
shared
between two sorrows

left burning

i was at the threshold of my self
of my limits
and inside you
at the same time
you glowed in an ache
that arched into me
a pleasureable pain
in which we shared
our speechless
bruises
and a candle
left burning on the hearth

between lines

there are times
when rational eyes can see backwards
and finally see clearly
nothing follows something
and both are unnameable
the sky with wings
a monument made of music
a log jam on a holiday
from school
the reality of make believe and
the holding pattern before work
that is unbelievable

gnat

i clap my hands together in the dark
before dawn...
and a gnat flies out of the sound....

until today

i stumbled over my false steps
millennium by millennium
my stone heart and
my spirit drifted out of an opened seam
i was no longer alone
the beaches
where nothing grew but everything
that died in the sea
returned to die again
into the nothingness of complete
transformation
unrecognizable
minerals hid
inside the hollow within my hardness
wings
wind and
waves were singing again
with voices identical to my own
sunlight crashed into
the black caves
luck was back after many
lives
my sunrise witness
to the avalanche
where i ran like there was no tomorrow
until today
*

from confessions of an adult fetus

I never thought i would last this long... in the body of an animal.
*

I suddenly realize I wrote a lie to a friend in a letter recently, and I feel ashamed...
then immediately I realize shame is a hinderance to truth as well... luckily it was a insignificant lie....
*

my toys are my friends...
my friends are my toys....
*
Why should a child be forced to sit through adult conversation? Considering how vapid most of it is.... for that matter... why should any adult...?
*
I just remembered my death... the unspeakable pain I am to suffer in the future... and I feel bitter like an unjustly condemned man awaiting execution.
*
I walk into the hotel kitchen to get a work application for dishwashing... and I know immediately how gulliver felt when he washed up on the shores of Lilliput.
*
He was the most gifted artist I had met, with drawing skills that emerged by the age of 4. His early youthful etchings were full of "messages" and dramatic situations. Later he made only portraits... all drawn furiously, with great expression. I asked him why he made only portraits... not other subjects... and he said because he would have to spend too much time "thinking" about what was important to him... this way, he could just create without "wasting time".
*
Virtually all the artists I have met here are struggling to be recognized as artists by others, it is their common passion.... & their work shows the homogenous results of that common effort.
*
Imagination and creativity are lethal for society... as well as its agents.
*
Many years ago I decided against my body and in favor of imagination. And I grew old in a dream of life....
*
Christian consumers... Buddhist consumers... spiritualists on shopping sprees!
*
Heironymous Bosch... the only profound realist in all of western art. Like Christ, he knew "what was in men."
*
a number of us, artists squatting in a cinder block garage, are telling the landlord that we can't afford to pay more... that we are struggling artists... and he barks back: art is a hobby, nobody makes a living doing art! and we are dumbfounded, as if what we have dreaded all along is finally true because it was spoken out loud!
*

The most important art is hidden... the wisest artists are invisible.
*
Why would an artist repeat himself over & over & over? and call it... a style?
*

As soon as someone begins telling a joke... Istart worrying....
*
All i have left to do is to give up everything.
*
Isuddenly remember that I was born and that I don't know why.
*
I was many strangers older one minute into this storm
where men go mad. I just waved bye-bye... to myself
and cried: I AM NOT YOU!*

i am not laughing

what a joke everything is...
from orgasam to octave...
and an old joke at that...
and now what? now that old
what?
i can't even laugh at being
unable to laugh...
and i am not sad...
i ask my self living this
dying... what am i?
and nothing again
like an old joke
echoes the question
back...
old what no longer living
with its question mark...
i am beside myself...
i am not sad
and i am not laughing...

annihilation

annihilation all so beautifully strange and wonderous
when it is your self that is obliterated
the only possible liberation lies there
in the hope that you can destroy yourself
and survive it

dream variations

i must dream now to decipher my dreams
the dark trees
the veins of languages flowing with water
the dance of insects
which is the voice itself
oh life!
even as ghosts tomorrow
and beyond all tomorrows...
i am your friend in love
with our friendship

a second away

i am second away from awakening
standing still in the noise like a monument to moonlight
i keep cemeteries i evaporate in a factory i left decades ago
in this zoo my body the blinds never shiver
in the silver
walls bend....
i am a second away

aging

it is so quiet
i can hear myself aging
a vast distance surrounds me
with its silence
like a redwood in a desert
with snowflakes for leaves

i love beautiful monsters

i love beautiful monsters
so do i
i am ten thousand
so is he
however
there is only one
i tell the truth to
or else
we do not speak at all
lock jaw
second class
nothing to live for
just living
ten thousand volumes
each a tome
and they prove it
the dead end
burning with purity
is betrayal
the lovers always eat the same bread
as language eats itself…

just listen
*

this is what i heard my heart whispering to me while you were present.
just listen
and now i want to find something precious to give back to you
something like the urge to sing yourself out of yourself
to dance yourself out of existence
without commentary
*

a road

i am a new age
with a road made for me
alone
now that the show is over
how is lost on me
but why
is perfectly
clear
*
(for terri clark)

out of a blue glass

i actually take pride in not having good taste
there are days when the finest dishes taste like sawdust
from wormwood forests
there are days when you talk backwards
and swing at ghosts
walking around inside your phantom skull
night will change you completely
right in front of my eyes
cannon fire from hand guns
and automata
chew up everything that gives
open the door
and you're a goner
forever
and yet you never
existed really not
for long
but enough is enough
i drink clear dark liquid blue
out of a blue glass
*

cut with joy

my sadness surpasses understanding...
it is a diamond in the rough... a crystallization of pure pain... a gem
that i cut with joy...
*

corpse

inoffensive corpse
fire of sand infinitesimal city
explosion of daylight in the eyeless swimmer
through the earth's clay
you ceremony of memory
our human light burning humid human words
for a basket of subterranean abandonment
you journeyer...who sings and grows
the names of flowers in silence
our bones begin to speak for themselves without
rest
the body~tomb breaks open its rotten seed pod
surrounded by loneliness no longer
goodbye goodbye my love
of darkness and terror
goodbye my love of doubt
storms of nameless obligations
we are islands
heading out to sea
century by century
with our constant fervor
our red breath invincible weapons and
the victory of roses promised in the
the dry earth under a kiss of salt
stone apple black earth oilstorm
goodbye my love of love and the rarified air
above

maximum theater

i need someone to hold my feet
the man on the white horse
the hand that wrote the first line of the obit
i am half in and half out
of the driver's seat
after a long roll over
all my hopes and dreams:
power comfort and style
safely packaged
black belt and optional
equipment
under a blue sky that couldn't care
less
about psycho~sexual conspiracy theories
i caught on:
3 o clock in the morning threats
underground tunnels
spys in the grocery store gas stations
maximum theater
there is absolutely no evidence of
their overwhelming existence
even my boss
is conspicuously missing
from my vocabulary
*

a nice guy

you look like a nice guy
in a hospital
in a swat team stand~off with common sense
people go to work everyday to get spanked
i don't know who that is
that posseses them
what ruse
what devil
what fine alright
what come on
that won't shut up
i have no clue as to who was who or why what happened to any of them happened...
surrounded by today
there is no if
its no big deal
a whisp of smoke
a wind blown day
*

sleep deprivation

i like your brain... its inertia... its mild perplexity...
sleep deprivation...
the shadows of the shady deals on the overnighters...
the walking corpses shouting that their silverware
was lifted by the staff...
i don't mind...
i am given to extremes, you know that...
i could make this job sound downright heaven~sent... fateful...
weird...
but all in all its just another meaningless job...
i know that i am probably just entertainment for you
but
i'll take it
*

THE SON OF AMERICA

THE SON OF AMERICA

Think about America...
and the son of America...
the sequel... and the mini~series!
It takes two minutes to change hats twice and return
to power here!
By the end of this regime
I will lie flawlessly... seemlessly
lounging...
Your Mother made this plastic squeezable container
on the graveyard shift... the factories
of poverty never close around here...
Oh, I'm sorry... I simply don't find you attractive anymore...
pulled apart as you are by conformity
and those magic frowns on your masters’ faces...
Cry me a river!
Human spiders the size of my hands
taunt me mercilessly with withdrawl symptoms...
for four miles or more
shadows trampled the sunlit walls
blue paper fingerprints wall papered the archetecture...
I found myself in the confessional facing betrayal...
But i deny all involvement in the blinding of my judges!
Crows blinded my judges!
Besides the Jungles are on fire! our miracles
are working better than ever:
we make easy easier
turn love into blood
blood into money
our properties roll around in the bones...
the liquid stainless steel sunlight
pours through our doors...
a good morning
breaks into twenty odd people chasing legal tender
called neighbors...
it is a detached apocalypse every minute
of every day...
with pool~side paradigms for the priviledged few...
fingered water... their elusive form...
For the rest of us:
a portion of a temptation
groping empty hair...
yesterday's tango experts are taking a beating
for the promise of a proud dignity...
Others are looking into ancient ossuaries for bones
beyond liberation...
nirvana... and the rest of that... litter!
No~nothings who know nothing but nothing and then
only sometimes...
LISTEN: It is a quasi~mystical mathematical brotherhood
that is running this show...
We are on an extreme odyssey... of unbeing being...
Oh, my yellow clarinet! My brain in the body of yellow light!
My gentle radical absence...
Yes
Yes!
A thousand times YES!
I will take this drunken joy ride through my father's dust!
After all
I learned American through Excess...
And don't try to muzzle me with your flattery!
An amoeba can't write a cantata!
It would be better to use better words better but
I can't translate barking dogs for you...
How do you spell the sound of licking hair?
But let that go...
Alternative is Not alternative...
It's negotiable!
It has a particular flavor...
something like: immortal~artificial...
Make no mistake You do make the choice...
if not the difference!
... its an...
embarrasing situation....
*

what you love

what you love

what if in that honest moment of decision: what to paint... what to say... you realized the only thing that was familiar to you as you is what you have already done... and the notion of doing something you would never do, in fact, something you loathe, occurred to you just as suddenly as the only choice and then you realized that you are what you hate as much as what you love... what you hate makes you happy... yes... and so you paint what you hate with love....
*
if i have made a career of failure it is because success has always looked like a life of crime to me…
*
meanwhile it is always meanwhile...

for a word

for a word

i eat so much silence for one wholesome word sandwiched between crippled syllables
that little by little i spied the river flowing under the turf
without lifting its hem
my drunken boots staggered
my accidental oscillation
my occidental oz
and torpor
land in the heat of the stage lights
uncared for and untended
o fill my hat with fat for that!
i entered without wings
i entered anyway
slumbering in my unfaithful
birthday suit
i signed my name in sand
in centuries of debris
in a constant departure
from cities and nature
i was drunk on nothing
and nothing was everything
it swallowed the light
the mountain ranges
the mire and the gold dust
in our eyes
and there were plenty of other
cargos too
many quotas bottled and tossed out
on the waves
these silver bones with great zeal
i wrote on the label
of a casket and threw it as far into time
as possible
and then i swallowed the sea
quietly
*

Anthony DiMichele
PO Box 1061
Friday Harbor, WA 98250
Email: studio7@rockisland.com
Website: www.gallerymezzotint.comP

the night

the night in my heart is pounding against the absence of yours
the room smells like your absence also: wet grass pine sap and pollen
on a cold breeze
to whose silent music the trees are dancing
i tie our hearts together with only enough blood for one

this night in my barrow of stones and dead wood
this night in my future in an hour with a sorrow greater
than all the others in my garden
this night is mine because it arrives with your complete absence
and i cannot refuse you even when you are not here

because of my penitence and my patience and my prerogative
you are necessary you are even when you are not
this night is the long word the king's ransom the ordinary against
the spectacular

i am standing at the threshold of this night hidden behind the last light
asking you to open the door
which is not a door

not i

the mirror needs a pain killer
not i... is in the world as an i
all fictions are made to fit that formlessness
into forms
give or take everything
*
(for j.e.)

Anthony DiMichele
4/08

icarus

the sea was rough the waves were ten feet high
i stood in a wind that was so intense it pulled the breath
out of my lungs
the cold was green turning to gray
it was february
it replaced my appetite
with sand
i stood there listening to the wind
steal my breaths
my shoes were filling up like hourglasses
while i lost minutes
grain by grain
i was stained by my thoughts
which were telling me one thing
after another:
you don't want to get married
or write a book
or die in this cold dark land
you are confused
because you are trapped
in the body of an animal
like a stone in its silence
a voice in its story
or icarus in his recklessness
flying straight into the sun

*
adm 2/08

after midnight

after midnight

there was captain slave
and the book
and also the inner clothes i dress up in
the revolutionaries’ worn out flames
the next time we will not take it by force
lamentations are to be advertised on movie posters
i shake hands with a swordfish in a blue suit
the blood hums in his gunpowder
all of us are burning
for a catharsis
when you are gone even for an
evening
deep down i am miles into a dare
*

where do you undress
your voice?
in vain your tough structure bends
an immense syllable into a whisper
but the electronic walls spy on you
black and bitter from eternity
our wine bites its pulp
above the scars are the riddles
claws sink into memory
the broken clouds appear to be breaking up
and i owe you
a long book
*

between each infinite maybe i made my way
with being being evaporated drop by drop
do you remember shouting into the earth?
then the vanished dawn without birds?
turqoise and crimson rain fell
soaking our stockings of ashes sunken in traffic
my nails would be delightfully undone
accompanied by a solitary arrow
i am dressing myself as a cold gravestone
in the emptiness of another picnic with all expenses paid
the overture is written on a yellow postage stamp
it doesn't make sense because it doesn't
motionless celestial flight
*

the overture however might go on forever
said a heart wildly alone
with a thick tongue of solitary kisses
lightningbolts on my lips
slapping stars in palm trees
with the hair of water
and semen scattered in constellations
oh! the axe was a torch though i held the light like a weapon above my head
*

words

i use words to point toward what is
wordless...
when words mean nothing... and silence
opens its eyes....