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[this was written early in 97 and is one of my current faves]
danger warning love
when i put a multi-sided wedge into the soft spot at the top of my head
and someone wangs down on it with a heavy sledge
into how many pieces will i split, how many places
would i now be or in transition to
endangered knots:
a tree threaded with vines grown merged with an iron fence
stamped from lava like a waffle iron
or an almost metal manta-ray shotgunned with hundreds of white hot bees--
what that would sounds like at 85 miles per hour across nevada
pursued by lightning bolts mutated by decades of nuclear testing
a tornado in my solar plexus
leave the radio off
why my door has two hinges on each side--
leverage protection professional ethics
or can i just make something up without accessing past lifes, my place amidst
astral
cartoons,
time release genetic commands wafting on the parametric updraft of this
world
in disarray and stasis-- thin shafts of chaos occasionally bulging like after dinner
pythons
then to repeel an orange
like seamless wrapping paper
smoother than skin you cant change like clothes in a busy intersection
a new building with soft doors
venting an aroma array
you thump it so you know its ready to eat
by the scent you cant define pushing buttons
like the sound of choppers
between my legs,
mountains i�ve not yet found
split to find the crystals
known by the dull gross outer, by where and how it was spawned
as if one well-placed hit
against something neither measured nor seen
would bring light
like a new universe
naming the things left behind with language
rolled tighter than parchment in the tube of a spine:
history is in the plumbing
frozen in tree scabs
cause when there�s so many of you trying to dance in traffic
the cars get hungrier, the roads dry more quickly
as if there�s a difference tween hunting season and rush hour
we share the traffic-copter�s hallucinations, the increasingly complex exhaust
whetting appetites, inverting lungs, spinning the wheel
of random growth we probably wont be ready for:
i cant check the map when im driving since im already on the phone to someone�s voice
mail
saying theyve gone beyond cellular
to a static positive charge
i can get thru this 800 number
surrendering my voice to credit�s choir
peeling away an orchestra to find the vibrations
of a cello held against an unclad thigh, a basoon whose double reeds
lubricious in the post-coital spit of
a flock of vibrating lips confusing the sky so
an absence of weather spawns an absence of time
where hundreds of people forget their appointments
and dive into the mirrors of their wallets
containing their potential worth, unvisioned fantasies properly tended
and blossoming in a world that values the rich expression of
so many lives avoiding value, avoiding judgment,
just learning to hit my bodys personal
pitch
hold that tone til the air runs back thru my
toes
and the speaker at the top of my skull, the resonating lens generating
broadspectrum
sweet-spots that void of amplitude that either makes some cliffside
crumble
or embraces in orgasm where thousands could pass out, an unintentional
rapture
we could become used to
when more sing when more bodies join the circle of bone to light
when the face in the sun is a catalogue of memory, myth and random teases
across the scale of life byeond our mouths
beyond many mouths
a wan shadow my
fingers sealing with worthless coins
examined from every angle
the complex stress/fate of a diamond/skull/planet
gotta split gonna get hammered
the new days old skin, the chants of clogging follicles
there�s no spot soft enough, no hammer
torn apart like a spring to hold us down
with pillows with spring rolls� timed release
to reassemble at the core
to reassert
with no arms to
eyes folded into triangles
like a strudel swallowing itself
beaten & folded & stretched, beaten & folded &
stretched
we cover more with less calories
we drape it all with neon pasty
never meant to cover, to suggest something to reveal
like a mirror made of gravel, like an asphalt chakra
using potholes to escape, a blemish to slow me down
a scab to pick on, the way the almost melted particles dance like Mayan tech
compressed, waiting to unzip
in a compatible format
too complex to trust
too many with too much space between
void is being matter is barely here
what no global positioning can tell me
as head is to nail, nail is to polish, to wax like a leg for a more easily developed
surface
using over and over
tacking gravity�s wind i point my toes to deny
i hold my hands like spheres to be omni-directional and concealing
hands hard enough to hammer with fingertip nerves sacrificed for utility
what i will never feel, what i cant hear my feet saying,
what can be split without revealing
like water or air continuing to distribute, unaffected by whats gone thru
as language changes so does genetic code
long roads leading to a single present
mean something lost cannot be replaced without a complex journey
to lands no longer connected, lands recycled with magma and rain:
the dna of the dead continues in the soil, sometimes sticking in the lungs or the
throat
like a world cultured from a sampling of tears:
tears of sadness, joy, irritation, allergies, despair
how wet and fertile some screams can be
.
.
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