Psychosis

Words follow words for minutes on end

A momentary stop and it all goes down

Just the empty semblance of thought

And the endless straying of sound

Life is waiting and things done in place of waiting

A train or death

Moments of revelation--a distraction

From the soft whispering of life

That goes one without us

Cut-ups

The question is: where to put one's foot?

At such moments

I heard in myself something

Like a tocsin, a strange admonition:

``In this world, progress is for our descendants alone.''

In myself, I began reproducing the person I wanted to see.

Gray is all Theory

Unless perhaps in dreams

In the rhythmics of slumber

Where words by turns spurr on conversation

And symptoms of technology are not accepted

Everything had changed by effect of a single conviction

And their contempt for us will have no end on the worlds to come

Who begins to write with me

The great dice game of existence?

Men could enter, but air could not

Men had replaced the prehistoric water

Where violence organizes itself into a scene

And shades of erotic meaning in a woman's hat are virtually incalculable

The spontaneous impulses of the individual sensiblility

Bores the ordinary man more than the cosmos

Which is the emphatic and aligned

Business knows how to make use of the threshold

With the aid of electric light

A Few

Gazing Upon the Mountain, Contemplating God's Work

Ridge at the mountain's edge:

a filet of rock. I

gaze like Argus from ledge

to ledge and thank, sigh,

and worry clasped to Hetty.

Huck and I

Huck and I used to

cheat corpses--their animal dread

in the gloom right through

the vacant plot, as threads

a needle in the psyche.

The Idle Student

Daises turning in the wind

across Malta. There gazes the

world-worn pupil in sin,

idleness, specifically. And sun be

the world, shining in situ.

Wolf Cub

Calm, they say, before the

blessed break. G-d above sent

a worf cub striking a

raw tendon, a freak accident

and the wound will scar.

Chloroform

But world half broke open,

after fifty-six huffs of chloroform.

And the scion of Hoboken,

stoned on the metro platform,

waiting, the train comes? No.

Vamoosing the Maser

fiat alone will not do

it's crap this world, though

a wopper junior would stew

inside your... a wreck of

your delicate constitution. A cousin's

hunch that lint trapped within

a vent by static alone

measuring capacitance--farads myriad, mainfold

ultimately vamoosing the maser, thrown

across your kitchen hellbent, comet

shiny in the night sky

above Vaduz. And au francaise:

la vie, non merci. Try

and miss the withe as

as it larups. You, exult

grasp and gasp for word,

words loll discontented from above

the ruined Ruanda sky, absurd

it is. The age of

the world more than blonde

urea. Without a grand oley!

in loci parentis that tyke

will wonder why would a

a circle be unary like

a whip across your torso

why is bidet porn always so dissapointing
so australian.
and that knife before you, a URL.

By the hour I watched VH1
no telling where this will go

and off in the middle distance
as always
the cry,
cri-de-cour, ineffable

three witches, sharing one eye
this is wretched stuff, terrance

Days of Rage

Days of Rage

It's just been one thing after another.
These have been days of rage.
Brother.

I've lost so many friends and loves.
Paring it down to the divine core, the
love that passeth understanding. The
unbought grace of life for this sinner.

and peace be with you as with me as
we strive to make this hellish fallen
world into very heaven.

But more than anything
i'm bored with this life.

Tijuana Bible

tiajuana bible

something fucked
coming through
like she was talking to herself
and not that well.

The Lonely Philoligist

the lonely philologist

in place of feelings, topology.
Transformations hidden or misremembered. A landscape, formed from the
horizon-the literal one, the one always out of reach.

Now we enter the longest leg of our journey. No virgil, no dante, no
anchises to guide.

But the rails run straight. And the timetable, which long ago
standardized, well, no need to tell you that.

Clause consecutive or final, none the less. Some distinctions are only
made by the lonely philologist.

a bit romantic

but still a nice line:

a million glasses
all filled with wine.

It's late.

not much to say here.

So I got this one, brother:

the burning of desire--

brother, i've felt it to

I was of you--one of the many
lusting and burning

a rough neck
one of the toughs
who sought expression
in line and harmony.

poem--natural is a euphism for ugly

the burning fires of desire
brother i've felt them too

i was as you are--

one of the many
lusting and burning

a rough neck
one of the toughs

who saught expression
in line and verse

harmony, if you will