Monday, November 19, 2007

First Last And Forever Repeated

There's no one more time,
no next time, last time. Only
this time or no time.

Monday, November 12, 2007

12:05 PM

Nevermind, I don't
want anyone but Jesus.
Join us this Sunday?

11/17: How things change

I'm out of money.
You have been dead for 6 days.
A man rings the bell.

Sunday, November 11, 2007


When the war ended,
I got up, walked out the door,
started it again.

12:03 PM

I want to be your
friend you stupid fucking bitch.
I'm so fucking drunk.

Saturday, November 10, 2007


Masses walking. A
thousand mile trek. Only
plants cross the border


Half a house. Trains in
trees. Boats in the park. Burnt cars.
It's autumn again.


Closed shops. Looted stores.
Rotted groceries. Looking
for work. Please help me.


-- Can you donate more?
-- No, this is all that I've got.
-- Enter the third room.


-- Have you heard the news?
-- Please stop talking to me. Please.
-- We're going to die.


Silent arrests. Back
rooms. Contracts. They will drop
the bombs tomorrow.

5 Year Plan

Beatings. Long car rides.
A brand new welfare program.
Bulldozed into pits.


Machines in the street.
People with wires in their heads.
We are connected.


Open positions.
Benefits. Perks. Time off.
The only option.

They Said It Doesn't Effect Men

Birds falling from trees.
A dog in the yard, wheezing.
We could breath the air.


sex tactics. Ground maneuvers.
Lubricate the gun.


Millions still missing.
Traffic stopped. Emergency
broadcast. Stop breathing.


A constant buzzing.
They are building something here.
You are part of it.


-- We can go tonight.
-- I won't leave without my wife.
-- She's already left.


Fences along the
shoreline. Forest watch tower.
Vines climb the houses.


Air raid. Broad daylight.
Report to facility.
Get down on the ground.


Foot steps down the hall.
Demilitarized zone. A
baby in the dirt.


Evacuate. Hide.
Gas mask. Needle. Injection.
Get in the long line.


Book's lining. No codes.
Under floor boards. Still nothing.
No one's talking. Loud.

Streetlight, drizzle

Collar up. Phone booth.
One ring. Two rings. Pause. Five rings.
Confirmed: she is dead.

Friday, November 9, 2007


A window pane cracks.
Unseen sirens sing to you.
Ice enters the heart.

Tell us: who is your wife sleeping with?

Flashlights in your eyes.
Broken bare bulbs swing slowly.
More roadside bombings.


Men with guns. Wheat fields.
Search lights over farm houses.
They kick the doors in.


Co-workers huddle.
Doors close. Bank accounts freeze.
What is that? Moaning?


Crossed phone lines, missed calls.
A van outside the house. Some
hands reach up the drains.


Invitations slipped
under the door. Threats on car
windows. Don't listen.


Neighborhood watch.
Eyes around corners. Whispers.
We have many friends.

quietly at the post office

-- Who is that man there?
-- He says he's a union man.
-- Can he be trusted?


Stopped winds. Dimmed sunlight.
Chemical fog. Mouths are
then magnetic.


Moving cameras.
Mechanical arms. Networks
of files, papers.


Two explosions in
the tunnels below. Subways
close. Bridges collapse.


Hushed meetings outside
Washington. Weeds grown over
an old monument.

Without Fuel

Abandoned outpost.
Forgotten canned goods. Quiet.
The road is empty.


Night comes on early.
Barbed wire windows. Two men
demand your papers.

A Wave

Busy terminal.
Leaking pipes. Silent alarms.
Why are they screaming?


Electrical lines.
Freight trains carrying unknown
cargo. Keep sleeping.


A crowd of people.
A distant helicopter.
Water levels rise.

While We Are Talking

Our messages
speak secretly to themselves,
birthing each other.

repetition and rhyme in rural industrial america

Smoke stacks stacked in stacks
of smoke slowly drip upward
along steel-rung tracks.


Streaks of maroon -- stretch
of lemon: the tall beechwoods
lounge in wet hammocks.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007


Anal beads tangle
like an abacus giving
new calculations.


Smiles fertilize
unharvested soil like
a pile of fish.


I taste you breathing.
I hear it. I touch it, too.
I like you breathing.

Communist, Socialist, Anarchist, Capitalist or Fascist

It doesn't matter.
Either way, you'll still answer
a lot of questions.

Self Discovery

When I slip off my
skin, there's a tie underneath.
Under that? More skin.

High School Reunion

We are older, bald,
and volunteer to check the
prostates for the breasts.


Children split into
wires. Twisting, they blossom
into steel framed buds.


Kitchens littered with
shattered breast plates clambering
back to themselves.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

The Abraham effect

God presses pause just
before the autumn harvest;
No one's ever died.

It's not mine, nothing is.

Winter prayers of
your baby's crumbling temple;
return to me, love.

Froth on the sea

Green as our bloated
faces beyond the movie
screen, bobbing a head.

I Will

Toss the night off and
drape you across the sky like
a quilt on the moon.


Deep-sea fish sifting
through pockets of loose change lost
in the wash: You're thieves.


The men assemble
in nerve tuxedos, tendrils
goosing loose axons.


Enormous machines
drag the Earth up from the Earth,
toss it to the Earth.


The two of us stand
face to face with two more of
us. The knives come out.


In a mountain, in
the center, we dig outward.
But that's all there is.


Eyes burst open, reach
with branches toward plants that grow
off your short fibers.
My veins knot in all
anticipation of waking,
waking -- waking here.

1,000 years ago

Stomachs walked tight ropes
of gas and marrow. Birds pecked
at the hats and canes.


Laser beam smiles
cut through glass teeth and burn
through oaken tongues, lips.
Squids reach out to feel
and I bat them back with coats,
hats, shoes, socks, papers.

Safety Directive

When change comes, brace doors
and windows with wood and nails
and tape your mouths shut.
The sea knocks three times,
comes in for tea, smiles, then
gets lost in the cup.

Late October

Pavement curls up
around my neck to warm me
like some old cocoa.

I tell you again and again and again

The only honest
answer is the one you want
to hear but still can't.


Wash woman, can you
scrub me against the metal,
ring me on the wood?


The train goes slowly
up your nostrils and out, years
from now, your remains.
Sweet potato pie
melts across autumn's branches.
Close your eyes and chew.


Chamomile currents
rake our skin -- and I'm still
chasing the dander.


Cucumber belly,
freezer burn waist: I reach through
you. The frost tastes great.
Large fleets break through sands,
anchors dragging cacti to
the mirage up shore.


Something rips, ruptures,
and breaks: hold my hand as it
floats off my body.


Blood clots around strings
of your face, past and present,
a blur through the tubes.

Thursday, November 1, 2007


Burning finances
to remember the dead, your
shawl matches the wind.