ZACHARY SCOTT HAMILTON
I am breastfeeding angels.
I hear machines
A knife can be buried
In an orchard
I smell dogs coming
Around the corner
Someone’s lighting candles
In the clouds
Oh,
Cartoons
Overpass,
Worms drip from pears
Out of the garbage
I am breastfeeding angels.
Coy fish swim
Around my
Legs when I wake.
I drink water from
Five separate rooms in
The abandoned house
I wear a lizard
Costume to school
And carry a lantern
Of frogs, not flames.
I require happiness
To breathe my last breath
But this is the culture
Of hinges
Where the tree chops
Down the man
A broken chandelier
Re-assembles at the
Center of a mansion
I watch myself from
A child, raking leaves
Behind the abandoned house
I am seeing apparitions
And fish at night, when I walk
The streets.
4/
We drove through a lake
And turned around to shore. * ( 1)
6/
I am starting to doubt if I’m even alive at this juncture aka big heaping piles of shit.
8/ My Mind was twisted into knots like a rollercoaster, that some child folded up, and crumpled, and set in the corner, finished playing with it, broken.
I cry bottles of pinot noir from above this town, glass beads rain down into toy radios at the harbor.
Adrift with ghosts, I look, and walk old rooms, cannot find a start
I’m going to stop you, killing animals at dark roads. If you exist, you exist, with feeling, nervously
A castle on this horizon swims, humpbacks cross doors, a castle rolls up before my bed, in the sea.
I listen to the groans that echo.
The sky is full of lymph nodes and cherry trees, Our planet is strange In ghoul and cistern, Oblivion from that Sweating mirror, We should be careful
The golden stones merge to gather us all together, Under the angels galion, a withered white lace, And dark wool. My hair tries running for the Wolves, it can only escape through the window.
A pile of clothes becomes a family of leaves.
The rain is unrelenting, it is like the tears of God.
Back of a brain maze
Love you, need sleep
Is it okay, I try to sleep, I love you and I want to talk tomorrow.
These people think in string
Weaving pathways through the yard
With motors
Their minds are full of roads and houses
This is supposed to be just random
But I cry cherries and diamonds.
PART ZERO
With Lyona Sangiuliano
I go back to bed, I’m going to float around in my bed in the clouds, and the care bears will be there. Jump around in the leaf piles, stand and stare at the sky, I’m going to wait for some orange juice.
Safety comes out from the computer and out from the soil, in the computer inside the plants, comes a nice warm bathtub. Spoken from within the cables of the water is me in my body of filth looking through the stars that I’m riding through in this bathtub ` The jars of plants are rotating and spilling from the jars baby coy fish notes like songs around the tub.
Candles Light.
Ornothology relating to birds
Orphanage
Clearing
Coffin
Big bottles of black cherries, circle with numbers, big bottles of black paint, black cherries with some watery chairs, name tags, note tags, and price tags snow-flake and balloons
44.7 DNA
Radio static plays, and this loser I know digs out cigarette butts from an ashtray, holds forks everywhere he goes, sometimes he puts socks on his hands and hangs out in the park, playing hand puppets for children or he plays dice on the sidewalk with children, or alone, or he paints his hands and his feet all red, or all white. People say he has a face mask that he wears and he digs through the trash with it on. Everything he dumpster dives he pushes around in a shopping cart, and drinks beer, smoking cigarettes. He doesn’t say much.
106.5 Sweet Oldies
I see bicycles on the side of the mountain, pants falling down off some shoes, bird feather pennies dropping off some toilets. Chicken scratch all over the ceiling. Shirts, riding some toilets, when turtles give each other hugs, eyes are in some pockets, the elevator is going up. There inside of the elevator turkeys eating some chickens, no, chickens eating some chickens, now they are climbing their souls into the attic with a pen in claw, A arm finds a clock, a christmas bow, in the attic, A christmas tree.
107.3 the edge!
I am seeing apparitions and fish at night when I walk the streets.
*(1)WE DROVE THROUGH A LAKE AND TURNED AROUND TO SHORE
_______________________________________________
Life is like a waterfall with clown cars,
And ostrich’s flowing over the edge,
And skeleton costumes and table cloth in a
Junk boat, and turnips and folded clothes.
The sky is full of lymph nodes and cherry trees
Our planet is strange In ghoul and cistern
Oblivion from that Sweating mirror
We should be careful
The golden stones merge to gather us all together
Under the angels galion, a withered white lace
And dark wool. My hair tries running for the
Wolves, it can only escape through the window.
A pile of clothes becomes a family of leaves
Drapes to boxes and doors.