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coyote girls in myth-time at the central dream of edenic treasures the irrevocable annihilation of christian civilization is taking shape with carnivorous flowers of volcanic thought
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i thought jack abramoff was my buddy a small fish with a large chicken what a dick
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doesn't anyone care about my feelings all i wanted to do was kill little birds because you know that's fun
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goosedown a thistle fluff naked and hatless unaccounted for and extra the world like a world like a world
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farewell to you my hopes my wonted waking dreams farewell self-pleasing thoughts which quietness brings forth and farewell friendship's sacred league uniting minds of worth
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you better hope you never see angels on the rez if you do they'll be marching you off to zion or oklahoma or some other hell they've mapped out for us
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my brothers and sisters were giddy shredding his stained t-shirts and raggedy pants throwing them up into the air like confetti
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a few stray dogs came to the window i heard their stomachs and mouths growling over the mariachi band playing in the bathroom
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i brought up the pots and pans and spoons banged them together like a new year's day celebration
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i seen the troops shoot people they ride around with guns almost like we was in a prison camp
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no the place wasn't on fire it was some children upstairs playing with the fire extinguisher
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like hell and like i said i never in my life grew up in a house with millions of people
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two hours later they drop us water and half of it burst open cause they was so high up when they dropped it
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the news got us out not the national guard not the mayor not blanco the news people is the only ones who got us out
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channel got me out channel the rest of them was there to kill us
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i got tired of convention centers i wanted to come the hell up out of that damn convention center
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born on monday and a tiny world-containing grain of light passed through each eye like heaven through a needle
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he rolled on wednesday rolled his whole body full of immense salt spaces slowly from one horizon to the other
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and on saturday he tested a footstep and the sky came down and alit on his shoulder full of various languages in which one bird doesn't answer to another
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and on sunday he dreamed he was flying and his mind grew gold watching the moon and he began to sing to the brink of speaking
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i am watching the movie twelve angry men because there is a character in it who reminds me of him
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in the forest of wearisome sadness where one day i found myself wandering alone i met my heart who called to me asking me where i was going
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it's not just this every written word is a suicide note and a love letter too
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if you are going there by foot prepare to get wet you are not you anymore
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while washing dishes with a bleeding hand there's a line that cleaves things come apart things join in wholes of which they are a part
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not what is your name but what the battle
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safe from the elements protected from rust and more esoteric forms of corrosion
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my father gave me a rosewood chess set when i turned twelve and it probably wasn't love just a lucky last-minute guess at the toy store which is probably what most love is anyway
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and she mortally threatened wholly unaware that i do this daily alone with the gold last light in what seems to me an act of love
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who are you the king asks it is not like that the seer says
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the seer leaves the king alone in his throne room and starts walking to china kicking up gravel hurrying to find the next king
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those flowers i've only heard of to whatever there is and isn't above
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what kind of delusion are you under the life he hid just knocked you flat you see the lightning but not the thunder
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what god hath joined let no man put asunder did god know you'd marry a rat what kind of delusion are you under
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his online persona simply stunned her as it did you when you started to chat you see the lightning but not the thunder
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to the victors go the plunder you should crown them with a baseball bat what kind of delusion are you under
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languishing yet at the very bottom rung letting go my grip long before the blessing
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how we huddled all night in our small house moving between rooms emptying pots filled with rain
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i want to live there someday across that street and listen to him yap yap yap
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as the nurse puts my cheek to sleep and the doctor begins to burn those summers away
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she's with grandma in front of grandma's house backed by a willow tree gladiola and roses
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no doubt mother frowns behind the lens wants to straighten this sassy face
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in fact you couldn't prove they're not
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it is summer under our butter bread summer's hunger satisfied
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penciled seagull in the margin following line by line the path you took i imagine no print so fine
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don't call it a failure call it knowledge the peculiar taste that filled his mouth as if he had bitten his cheek
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whatever he risked did not matter whatever he could imagine was already lost bored the other boy coughed into his hands
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evening falls someone's playing a dulcimer its voice touches and parts the air of summer
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i'm moving from grief street taxes are high here though the mortgage's cheap
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when i throw them out it may frighten you and maybe me too
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a new embroidery of flowers canary color dots the grass already dotty with aster-white and clover
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how deep does that go how do you know do you think you're a seer
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him anymore whatever i'm all like
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we did speak like that as if from a book of psalms because it took up the sky
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no other church though i don't know its rite could so from head to epididymis move me with deep devotion to its site
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these are the nights men run guaymas before midday a beach-town life
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i wear my heart on my sleeve or rather both sleeves since it's usually broken
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of the mares i will have left only early morning who won't know that i will soon take her hide turn it into an ocean that will at last cleave open my skull
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well that's memory for you that's so-called civilization for you to layer up to redo the already done
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something perverse about that something perfectly fiendishly self-conscious about that ask
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how can you be in two places at once when you're not anywhere at all
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fine fuck it start over
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they're not that smart anyhow a stage-whispering drunk from the back of our imperial realm mile the park road
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have at it please explain please fill in this blank
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the spirit leans intrigued the other part bored then there's want then there's wait
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thus begins the beef between bird and bee the isthmus isolating order from chaos
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of primped snakes he thought but it is the cold weight of scales that protects
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and when i tell frances i see she is a moon motionless in the doorway skin reflecting a lamp a face that awakens on paper
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yet an hour can have shape and proportion four walls a ceiling an hour can be dropped like a glass
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a chimney swift flits through the fumatorium i long for one last blue democracy which has broke my heart a while
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goodbye luck you idiot said the fox to the grapes i love you replied the grapes
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i know that rarity precedes extinction like that of the purple orchid in my garden whose sudden disappearance rattled me
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jane in her way is also beautiful and therefore near extinction i suppose she is certainly rare and fragile of bone
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she insists she is dying day by dubious day and spends her evenings looking at photographs of her mother who never believed in love
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i moved my chair into sun i sat in the sun the way hunger is moved when called fasting
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she said her vows near the shore where the emigrants set down their consonantal n on afternoon on the end of everything at the start of ever
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better to marry than to burn she quotes she don't know us
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in a precisely lighted room the cfo speaks of start-to-start dependencies says let me loop back with you
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still one table away these two with gnarled empretzled hands seem unhappy in the old way
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where half the people in your life have gone dissolving your sense of time which was never supposed to have an end
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he puts his tools away one by one lays them out carefully on the deal table his work done
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and this gulf of blues deep and shiny the only place to be between time and eternity
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what if it were possible to vanquish all this shame with a wash of varnish instead of wishing the stain would vanish
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what if you gave it a glossy finish what if there were a way to burnish all this foolishness all the anguish
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what if you gave yourself leave to ravish all these ravages with famished relish what if this were your way to flourish
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what if the self you love to punish knavish peevish wolfish sheepish were all slicked up in something lavish
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what would be left if you couldn't brandish all the slavishness you've failed to banish what would you be without this gibberish
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what if the true worth of the varnish were to replenish your resolve to vanquish every vain wish before you vanish
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again today no miracles at hand just in the field wrens who stab at milkweed pods a nuthatch bargaining from its split branch
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barred light dunes coming on and on
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is losing itself though the trees are clearly limned
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to spirit up my mare in every shape but those appear which taste and nature wear
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i want only to admire the grass the great locks of trees that the idea is enough
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who is it that actually sees herself the heart center of the fragrance billowing toward its end
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and with tears put salt in these mythical tales and with an arras weavers combe of box she fiercely smit by sinking level with us l'enfant in the room
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thy matchless mercy i implore when i must wake to sleep no more in realms of endless being
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ca-ca and we never even had the slightest clue that che was camping out
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a circle what was needed was a circuit and a good operating system
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what's within is without being seen to be so optical anomaly as unexceptional
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four left's a square one way turning system until it becomes its other way
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