Godhead, I plucked you out just to make you car-sick
I decide to quit you like a rusty pipe
I shave you off my face,
///////
cut out a neat grin
Rinse the sink when I’m done
I know all the things I used to
Some animals live in dead wood
But not much else
And no purpose is lost
There’s nothing more to exhaust
Although the will makes you soft
Not even the strain of my belt
When the thinly veiled – becomes glossed:
He was too proud and she wasn’t nearly prejudiced enough to stand it.
His pride was a hollow behemoth and it crumbled like a Colossus.
Its legs spread wide
open.
There was no point of incision –
His appendix bursting with un-expound Els,
Expanding between the hollow limbs,
Breaking after the first forty-eight hours they held him:
She really wanted him to shut the fuck up
– It didn’t last long
Inside her he was quiet and she vicious
Every now and then she contracts
And he screams through her well-insured teeth,
Down her well-insured throat
“You hypocrite”,
“you fucker”
It was fine when they came and otherwise hollow again.
‘I was none the wiser
And their trash was not my solace
Not as long as I had what I did
You know very well,
I got a head full of honey and a libido filled with plaster.
Posthumous grease goes in your hair.
We might have left at night
as if we’d never come back
Taken by many and repulsed by most,
eventually
It was effortless to see how they saw to us
And that they did – so well that we are only now ourselves without an ounce of protest
Without a beckoning hole for holism
What we string together like a necklace
Harmonic fragments, who, worn’ by sight
Gripped by coarse and unkind
By silent retreats into untamed Babylon
Who did not fall when they were told
Who gazed at the wedge and saw doctors
Saw sense and order-laid
Took home the given caught
And caught only the tired fish
Tantrums subside when time elates
And the frame loosens
I’m a nervous automaton trying to be calm
with all the wrong cogs and a thumping thorax.
The cramp to end all seizures
And the love to end all showers
I sobbed like a little girl last night
and I felt such affection for your breast behind my head
and your lap and your hand
and in spite of myself, I held on
kissed your hand, your lap, and your breast
I approach the angels one by one
To finally choose none
For I feel as freely as I breathe
How unreasonable reason
And how reasonable I
How reasonable You
And if I forget
Let me remember that I am the fleshing-out
and the stretch
Of all I deem dense…
…Ecstatic, breaking through the enzyme
Cracking his skull into a sly daffodil, angry with moss,
constant irritation
Like a hum when it clots and creases into the walls
a perfect bell
He glided upwards and drifted higher
until the slopes were a great valley
And then
it was no longer tough,
whatever it was;
There was always something you could feel itching in the corner of your eye.
We never looked at it, inched close at times but then – ah,
then it was no longer tough.
she was right, out of sight, out of town, completely out of this world.
And there you were,
In the interim,
Right where I want you
so I can look at you.
I can grab you by your cheeks and make a neat little bow around your head.
It was tough – but we could concede of it.
Tentacles freshly pressed with ice,
coveted by those who could,
and most would, at least by gesture and often habit be those who could,
For a time fog was fog,
and no sailor could worry less about what lay ahead;
what lay ahead, beyond, between, and without,
mostly without;
There was no light,
No Corneoscopic rocket flare from beneath
or straight ahead for that matter.
Straight ahead, ah, oh wow what a captivating, old symptom,
what I will not confess,
not yet.
I couldn’t see it yet and as of now it remains tucked between something’s legs,
a fine trace
like a scar,
not mine.
Yes, there you were, right where I want you.
My one benefactor, you were a juggler
I was a dope, dope-sick all the time
I was a juggler, you’re one gigolo
Paid in advance, with time and ears
Ears to lend that couldn’t bleed
Sockets blind, no money spent
Cottonseed plucked again
Lay you down sloped to bend
And bent you all out of shape
Amen
“So you’ve shown yourself to be trash
And that’s fine, we don’t judge do we?”
With idle mind and idle time
There is a single happy wanderer
Summoning craters to lie in
When
All this world gathers itself
silently and doubtless
Accumulates
a small peak,
contracted as only a mountain can be,
as only the sky from the earth it used to rest on.
There’s no condemned for bearer
There’s no unguilty, there’s no unblamed
There is no bastard, there is no mule
There are no more nests – only cocoons
There is no truth – only crops and their yield
We learned shame only as a means of rebuttal
And what we say now we won’t know again
Because we never really believe it
And we’re never really sure
‘When you have a hammer everything looks like a nail’
How wise and insecure
For freedom to mean chaos
For it to belong to the selfish
For Hope to nurture the past
For it to belong to the sightless
For stillness to mean like God
For it to belong to Man
For silence to mean formless
For it to belong to God.
Destitute – what now belongs to Abaddon
to mimicry and form
Who sings the body electric?
In the mouth of the Amstel
The clowns have become mimes
And the mimes cynics
