Overadumbrate the clouds
While the mechanized horde
at the gates,
At black noon the city
weathers the storm
Of blasts of glory in
pinpricks.
From the other world, seen,
wave-crests split
Rising the next one
sanctifies
Falling this ocean
solidifies –
Last syllable’s awesome
wait.
In the shadows of faces in
unmasked leaves
Of the trees whose limbs
branch in the noon sun
And where wind breathes over
their green-black forms
So that oak-ridge and
elm-ridge rise and swoon –
Over and under the pierce of
light interpenetrates
The overabundance, the
multifarious, the innumerable
Of all on the surface of the
mirror of the flat dimension,
Looking-glass of a child of
a god indifferent and bored –
Don’t know that I can forget
Knowledge of my banal
regrets
Deciduous leaves will spring
back
Trivial surface boils on the
deepest stack –
Fear and boredom and all the
loss
Wet-rain dry-snow slaps and
bites
That is the only hope which
it is
And there the tall blank
untried walls –
One terribly yet common
courtesy webs
A silent talky movie between
two
The drama never resolves
still we
Will pass into a great dark
sea –
Very intricate yet quite
hard,
Delicacy of intervention yet
solid nothing
Really.
This end of a built
crudescense
This end of breath
Which I take as the
over-abundance of triggered desire –
Desire what sense of this
need
Passing softly amongst the
biers
Of all dead princes and
priests
Who claimed everlasting
peace at the end –
But this middle way we’re
bound bound
Into a love-rush of
insatiable lust
Lust,
When can I silently sigh?
Urge or demi-urge compress
particulate sand
Into an hourglass of this
moment.
Every now completes without
me.
All of my will is cybernetic
by a cipher.
My walk slides into a run
but for what do I hurry?
Tomorrow’s-day’s funeral
will this night’s wake bury.
From dry words on a yellow
page
Or a glimpse of ephemeral
smoothness
Or the droop-thought
unwinding of wake to sleep,
A rush excites a rage.
To this influential wine I
praise
All its trickling warmth
How the fever maddens me and
its rush
Dissipates into cold sweat.
Dry or sweet aromatic piney
Semblance of my inner fluid
beginning.
Anguished what is thrown
Sterilized what is lost.
Crazed unknowing pleasure in
the pain
Where my skinned head raps
against the wall
Shorn of feminine tresses
and bare
Beneath a bulb of
incandescent light.
Cuts across the surface of
my skin
My back reddened with your
bites
Each mouth of bleeding oozes
cream of red
Each slap, each hit, seeming
to demean.
Your eye unblinking, your
one-eyed stare
Ropes twisted till they’re
not too tight
I think about where I’ve
been
Read the handwriting, be
forever tame.
Reach out to where there is
no warmth
From where the breathing
does not disturb
Gross grunts out of the
darkness
But none.
The lie untrue of soft
allure
Recumbent upon a bed,
But cold, clammy,
spiritless.
Out of a clay lump a voice
In silence clamps down
As acclaim of struggle.
A dance cavorts across a
scene
Whose linked chain unwinds
along,
Merry paper-dolls whose
child-song
Swims into a dreamless nap.
If it freeze, then the cold
snap
Of silent breath
Suddenly kills
The go-round weary broil.
Within tumultuous storm
unwinds
Clouds of vapor smoke about
an empty eye
Gathering and looming nigh a
balding hill
Whose dry packed dirt waits
for rain.
Question
This moment clicked now away
A past ever resurrecting in
translucent mind.
Inside
A little man speaks
uninterruptedly.
Turgid
The cotton-mask that snorts
up breath
Forgetful eyes blink open
under sea of soup.
Universe of universals of
reversals.
Rewound stem of hackled
watch.
That next slipped disk
crunches past.
What manner of kind
interruption
Becomes the border at the
edge
Where crossing over lurches
personhood to null
And memories left behind for
others within to wallow.
At the click-moment of the
change, 21 grams lifted,
Serious but quick and
meaningless
Blood and flesh apart,
violent or the nap too deep
And to the mad crowd a
political-thought, to one or a few a pang of disbelief.
I.
Tree-blown winds spiral
about green-yellowing,
Gray-green finbacks slight
water-flash streaming.
Water-mist of horizon’s
vague demarcation of sky and earth.
If the distant rumble in the
black banked clouds flares a painful bright-second,
Is the fleeting shadow
blackened finally onto the patient grass-mound behind
Like a photographic negative
of all colors, massed, unlinear
Of that bipedal form
upstanding?
II.
Chiliad of shadows mask a
one case
Which hiding enwombs
infinite variety of lightless slugs.
Or glow worms softly
illuminating a miniscule surrounding
Where gray-flat becomes
pink-tube
And the nearness overcrowds.
As a closed eyelid,
fluttering open admits the bright chaos of everything.
III.
Forth springing cells
a-flutter
Unburdened of care
Motility until death.
Until that unessential
moment,
Monad of decay,
No wait but nonchalant
beings.
Do no thing.
IV.
Sparkling change protected
in a pocket
Charmed by corporeal warmth.
Are stars truly drifting,
mad-rushing,
Within the void of
unperceivable dark matter?
Will the small
potentialities inside become?
V.
Still deafening is the
silence
Sliding into the inside
wetness
Of a massive thick dumbness,
Wherein dull brood of
unconnected thoughts
Are lost in an insulated
tomb.
Two faced dog faced
canalized
Worry lines about the mouth
to hide the lies
No need for the moon to be a
wolf.
A cecco that beauty insubstantial
comes
A horrid growth depraved.
Flat land of the prairie
Adumbration of cloud-force
beyond
The ephemeral line at sky’s
darkling.
Hear Proserpine’s cries
underground
Buried soul alive,
In the moiling muck.
To range along a glide
A sigh above the beat
So this move of mist
Now a solid tomb.
Stand within the rows of
stalks
Bending patient to the blow
So this effort relax,
Bow down to the youngest.
Count its steps in coming
Or guess the wavy distance
Of a breath that gasps,
A jack of lightning.
Here now sleep quivers.
Nervous, it kidnaps this
mind.
The axe falls a-sudden
Yet a buzz afar to my ears.
Lust for life’s depraved
Innocence where youth’s
beauty rots
To a pulp of vermin’s sate.
Reduction of it to a point
That passes gliding thru
time’s waves.
Can be held that moment in
passing?
Is its press – the past – a
gram?
In the breach of time
In time’s breach we find
A sad tired mind
Where words speak to the
dumbed.
From a height we watch
The roil of men we catch
Boil where the hard hurts
latch
With shouts from those not
numbed.
In a lake of woe
Up the waves are slow
Cold here arms and legs
won’t flow
In depths still not all
plumbed.
Indiscriminate
Pieces weighed for their
advantage
Be a mass for the
about-to-be lord
Darkly swooning into the
mirror’s frame.
Once more I tire of the
cleanup
All my purges spewed before
me
Their stench thickens in my
nostrils
I cast about my disgusted
eyes
My dinner partner blends
backwards
I can only wish uselessly.
Is normalcy serene,
Oblivion denied?
Is it brave to be bored?
Can this feeling remain,
Suppressed yet resurging?
Is there contact in the
grooming.
Or blasted effort living to
die,
Waiting or seeking?
Now
Deviltry
Cavorts mindful of wasted
energies
Alone.
So
Being
Becoming ever recedes like
the surge from the shore
Then the quake wake.
Desire!
But it’s all right here,
already!
The changes of states of
mind is all we have.
And whether the mind’s
mirror
Is cloudy or bright (dulled
by wine or caffeinated) ,
It’s all just the same
passing of hours.
Male and female god made
Me.
A brother to my brothers, a
sister to my sisters.
To relive the shudder
Or breakup trying.
Either way it may matter my
choice.
So
Flakes one by one drift
White sky down to
Roofs, streets, cracked
pavement,
Plastic and steel grey-white
blue-black
Industry’s output.
Underall
Warm-wretched earth
Tumulus with grey.
At an horizon
Of wispy lumen
There an east-moon threats
A rise on the night
To whose succor
I succumb.
Thru the dream
Dissectious
Whose
Inward-outward thrusts
From a secret chamber
Imprisoning
Blend things
That the many selves
Consume.
So
Snortful sleep
A sort of weeping waking
Intermittent
Belated.
So
It’s a trip inward isolated
infant
Drink to quell the nausea
Of the party that lasts the
potation
Must combine in a cocktail
Catalyzing the effect of
each other.
Drip drip drip
Between sessions
Pressurize the inner
container.
So
It’s nice to dream those
Day phantoms into
Phantasms
Of self-validation.
No real war of each other’s
Death wishes.
No real war ever
All my struggles
Fantasies
The mental blade sinks not
as deep
As a real sharp knife’s
Across a young terrified
throat.
So
Indolence
So
I and the other want
Desire consuming
All in all entwining
Desperate reflections in
black
Mirror-eyes,
Depths of pupils receding
To a slack single lump
demeaning.
How to please the other
And not take pleasure?
Sad to not have taken
When nothing has been ever
given.
So
Cogitation makes doubt
And this engine is my being
Yet to stifle the inner monologue
Can bring the freedom of
not-being.
So
It’s all been said.
So
Shattered glass to cut in
jibs
Along the skinny length of
bony feet
Or consuming like cornflakes
An indigestible
Irreversible, ejectilous
infertile,
Projectilous, immutile.
So
Mirror waved, thru I sink
Oblivious
Black reflecting
A chromia face – no eyes.
Stunned by wonder at the
Level smoothness of the
silver
Skin
And the blacker eyes –
(after 07-30-06)
Blacked on white or pink
translucency,
Blood-rimmed cells that
breed
Unfettered somnolence of
breathless
Hoverings over breathed-on
papillae
Bending, swooning under
rain-rich
Clouds of impending
flood-wash,
Waters to rise and drown all
that are boatless.
So smooth warmth crusts
And red rage erupts.
Rome and the rock.
So
Under passion
I assume the penalty
Of painful lust.
Emptiness wants a fill
A fill wise in its warmth
Wherein cool breaths breeze
Upon a sleeping face –
Eyes open to stare down the
drying wind,
Heat-blasted off the
waterless desert.
Cooling in a coma of
cloudless days
Surging like waves at nite
under starless skies.
So
A moment is when
A delicate carving of a
curve-line
Renders shape to a
thought-image of a horse
Or a face
Muscled smoothness or
Lazy afternoon of nostril
ballonet
The line that never lifts
from paper
Never erases from memory
The bi-dimensional
thought-on-white
Trapped.
So
Shaman conniving shooting stars
Robin stealthily stepping
round the course
Artemis and Minerva, Hecate,
Diane.
Death-ray future on a
mud-past
Artistically amuse-ful.
So
Out of the blackness an eye
Roves
To pierce together a
crumpled thing,
Unfurled is a tapestry
Of figurines
In gold, silver, red, green
blue and grey
On a field of ever-receding
waves of
Black.
So
Quiet
A lay-down horizon at day’s
end
Begins the next run flashing
So bright the burn the eyes
water
So cool and dark the
star-wheel between
Silence and cacophony
intermittent.
At noon the sun stills its
course
Momentarily
A middling pass between
extremes
Of reckless dashing,
Or deep nite’s cold still
trembles
Polaris-eye dead, staring.
So
Liquidator flush crystalline
Sugar-salts
Bodies of bodies in the
gangetic flow
To the sea the sea
Away.
So
There is no spirit just flesh.
Yet the face bares the soul.
So
Pulled out of the crashed
site
Becoming unclothed and
hairless
To be non essential, no-one.
So
Collapsed container of flesh
Worry-lines of face.
The breath within compressed
–
Pressure of pleasure unfelt.
So
Agape in mirror-view
Reflected looker beheld:
Love that is a yawn,
Astounded at the sudden
clap,
They and I withheld
Never uttering word.
So
I am below the clouds.
My god above knows me
But can not touch.
I walk within shadows
So their spying eyes will
not see.
Beneath the waves receding
ever outwards
The salt of my wounds is
refreshed
And the waves returning
again
Pry my sins away.
So
Et cum touch
Love absorbs and redounds
all heat,
The small death of
contumescence
Melts a very soul into soul
–
The very soul drips melting
Luquifaction – putrefaction?
Nagging desire all at once
o’erthrown,
But was there true
solubility?
So
Dripping man
From icy heights
Falls
Shattered on his bed
Where brackish sewers’
aromas
Up thru the cracks of the
world
Nudge his brachy-head
While the exsanguinate sound
of JRR’s “cellar door:
From the lapping of the
waves on the deep water
Breathes
In and out of one to other
bloodlost ear.
So
In day-yellow and noon’s
orange
Black rubber roads fire
Drones aslant the silent
peace.
Yet some blue prime hour
That propped the sky
Drifts on memory.
Orations of crowds,
Machines’ screams,
Blast their sounds around.
Still a terce breath
Halted in its hale,
Trips its moment alone.
Red-blue ribbons, a gift,
Unpacked and consumed,
Are eagerly outcasted.
For facing the brightening
point
We will rotate earthbound,
Hesperos-gazing, darkly
staring.
So
On a before-noon hour
Sight of green-gray to
yellow to black
Of the tree-leaves
window-seen
Nervously waiting for
red-eyed bugs
To wake in soil, slog
towards and across
And march up tree-bark
Presses on my cones and rods
Of my retina
Across the electric string
to perception.
So
Ignite, ignite
Against the fury
When the night’s dust lies
vapid
Under raging day’s
Rapidly dying light.
So
Glass foot falls
On concrete,
Grey-white chalk flares
Where black bug-wings breed.
Silent leaves break, blend
When warm air ascends.
In that fragile space
Alarms won’t ring out,
Water never darkens,
Never breath comes short,
Nor abrupt pauses.
Yellow flags, yellowing
Against the sky blue and
white with clouds,
Nimbo-cumulus arrangement,
Like a petty parlor trick.
So
The world is rock hard,
The mind is jelly soft.
Fantasies and dreams and
ghosts of dreams
Abound
But can not move the
mountain,
Can not quench the heat,
exulate the frost.
So
To speak of the inner life
While big bugs scream
outside –
A numbness to express, a
numbing force,
A numbing directionality, a
nothing-to-feel;
From voices of glass and
golden arms
To glass shattering and
tarnished gold.
So
What if blended colors
Edges not marked but by
Shadows of lines
And all the fierceness of
those things
Dimmed?
Like a cell in the sea
Translucent membrane for its
salt drop
A bubble to pop
So the salted sea increase
For a tiny time until
Some next carnation of a
self.
What at all the cogent
agulation
But that it see while itself
itself?
So
A pressure-blast water-hum,
Hydraulic mechanics
Under leafy maples,
Amidst the mulberries,
Many-colored berries,
Like the cardinal’s red or
the robin’s
And the yellow-jackets,
Overhead nimbus white of
water vapor
Faster westward than the
dull-gold sun,
Westly also the river water,
Brown-green, rippling,
pooling
Here and there in the
scooped out
Shallows of the weed-grown
bank
Where the shadow-roots of
the old trees eke.
So
A black cloud,
Heat that hints of fierce
yellow,
A line ever lowering
redrawn,
Clang and talk and whispers,
With a wet rottenness
Soiling the ground and
things
Under a black sponge-carpet.
So
Mirror-man betrayed:
A family snap reflects the
likeness
Which the black-white glass
pretends uniqueness,
Corner, acute, of an agate
eye:
Feast of stone but edge
diminished.
Insolvent, soluble,
insatiate, saved;
So
Mulberries and maples o’erhang
The dinner round
We sharpen our teeth on,
Whose bright smiles
Pierce the humid night,
Where
Dusk settles round my
Solitary stump.
So
Lie-in-wait
Spread ultimately along the
clipped lawn
Asunder awaiting
Lone thorn beneath the crowd
of stars
Indifferently peering.
So
Glass bell
Its tone harmonic
Shatters
Rings in titillation
Shards of little cuts
Will two recombine in one?
And not be the all
self-reflecting mirror?