Whittle down (to)
(the) zero (the)
bone (the) cap
illary nucleus

The plot line
on the story
board the rob
bers the bar
rons His Hol
Iness the Dope
the Dully Lamb
Da in an

Alpha-bet
A-dominated order

Who hoos?
The avuncular owl
in forests of love trysts.

Crow ded inton(atin
ghowls)o
whereby insurp
ass able opp
or tuni ties
collo cation of
fers norest ab
stract satisfac ti
on on ly
in format ions
‘ anal o(r)gies of imp
er manen
(o)cean inf in it eli
fespan god-
willing vitality

Blat ant sham
e less(100000000000000000000000
x0) hypo
crisy in dic(t
)ated super
fluously to workers for $
WHO(?)(‘)re
power
less (tha none)

Rule is that
way they say
apparently with
out thin King Ab(omi
Nation)out the words
ata ll
Pro here Con there
dua lit
ye(s!)x carn
ate not a sin
gles tr(y)i vance
to ward equili
brium it does
n’t ex
ist its
eems tho

Ugh the Rhet
oric in
stills be(ho(peal)ways)
lie vers pedant
icchi(()())ld
ren wit/h(im(possib
ilities))/ty ide
a Ti on
s: HOP(n)O N(ev
er)THEB(m)AN DWAG ON
(i)FORAB E(s)T TER(s)TOM
OR ROW

Perfect l(ie)y new
in sancti(moni(ed)ous)io
ned as(ex-)pect(-ations) s
LA be (l)led w(HO(?))l(y
)e label s pe(ak!) e ling

The path o(f) logic
al(mighty) cerTaint
y I’
mal way srig
h(ooooooooooooooo)t
(Ru((i-)n(-sofemp
ires)) Am OK
ele men/tal/ly(rig(i-)ge-d ele
c tio ns)

Hin*sight surgi
cally al
ter(ros(e)p
here) red e
yefor an(y)
eye
commerc(y!)ecor(poralill
ness) up
tinanoli
garch ical kin
g(dom(in
ated byty rants))
oft he Blind
(though the saw
(hews blood)

An emulation of Christ Who
steadfastly would not enter
the gates of heaven immediately
the right hand of God
at the end when He gazed
up where heaven ought to be
and after ruminating in chagrin
(and now, three days?) uttered
tearfully “My God! My God!”
How cravenly you let
your ministrants be
angels to your peoples!…
Wallowing in ungodly wastes of no perception
of beauty as cold and in front of their faces
as the ocean of the Northern Deep!…
In that tumultuous marl
where nonsensical systema are schematized
you expect these wrecks to float?
They should swim if they could but
distinguish the currents’ differentials!…
Their intestine webs of nerves though
are so convolutedly bloated and wracked
by numb ruptures, throbs and fadings of pain!…

Free water cools
his fevered entrails
the fire sparked core of original magma
and smoke settled dust of a billion carburetors.
An unbridled Spring of floods
stirs in a lunar concavity
late in the dawn of Autumn
to coat the whole terrarium
on up to and out through ethereality.
Its purple stain will linger millenia
post the prophesied apocalypse
graceless human demise which
is every time a murder
and upheaval of a moral
that none can sanely deny.

Up on the hill a stairwell descends
where cars could crash if driven
in the throes of violent mania
determined to destroy
the speeding machine
without contact killing
force may render to scattered
shards the glassy metal
yet register not the faintest quake/wake
in the most proximate undulation
on this shallow cement sea
whose water of rock is no
conduit to transmit such shudders
to and through the actual ground.

Misers hoard the keys of gold
that gondolas need to ferry
from island to mainland forbidden
city Asiatic asylum
complexly walled Shangri LA
in two sided mirrors ninety
degree symmetry worshipful beauty
to the reflective beholder
possessions to be shared
as if copies could not be made
with the real time fac-
simile technology they have
invented themselves stashed inside
of only hearts
gilded blood boxes
cherished more
than their vital contents
*
The upper rims of this bottom cup
dregs imbibed with breath augmented
by sight and sensation of walking through
feet and standing around a dizzy boned skeleton
move over rill and dale
out of supplest brims
through rivers overflowing with
ephemeral glints of gold dust.

Stumble through the intermists
that fill the distances with
ferocious will ruthless ambition
to illuminate the clefts rent
by custom into obscurity and
by time to forgotten mystery
*
Mantric prayer
bead to bead
rosary rust
finger scraped
fervent friction to get to the next
beatific beginning
empty hymn of praise to Za
temporal target in the art of Zen
sunk in every aim of isolation
of any perceived hindrance to
the incessant passage of change
repeated jabs at rapture
which come patiently a round
million mantra later

My prayer/poem will have the stature
of magic spells that work ways
down paths the muses sniff out
like bitches on my leashes
barking through night’s silence
further in the illustrious hunt
and I am whipping lividly
the hide of my harrowed mare
urging her ever more rapidly on
bootheels in her ribs
to climax the suicide ride
of pitch dark past which not even I
can see past ahead to where
the megamouth abyss is screaming
Sirens for me to leap
in ascend and inevitably plunge
breathless the both of us
as we together stare and fall
*
Unending novenas cubed Hail!
the holy queen hot horny lady
bearing witness to our nine
mooned generation’s epoch
a global warming climate rife
with overpopulation and
loomed with the threat of nuclear
obliteration on such a scale
as would disrupt even the equa-
nimity of the benevolent divine
zoned out and stoned on bliss

Change has shifted these surroundings
from out of what they were
when each time a part of
a me of which I am no more
master of airiest depths
and wettest breaths through gills
learned to convey a lesson
on surpassing challenges
and adapting to the breeze of liberation
through the stream of consciousness.
I a dog have sniffed and
shat wherever I squatted
marked my spot and left
legacies to the pure of spirit
of beneficence and good

But to the tortured agitators
who rule now out of fear
ghosts in every corner
stooping beneath some tabletop
or behind a Turkish curtain
mosaic of Vlad the Impaler
at his most bloodthirsty unflattering
shadows to keep out the cold
wafting through stone castle walls
to come alive in the after-
math of the extinguishment
the final flaming candle
dreams of feather-down flight
omens which the soothsayers
are too few to internalize
and attend to every one
of the sovereign’s minions
the ideal happiness in culture
amendment to society
*
While the march of percussion
anthems terror patriotizes ego
I have at the same time heard
flutings in a high-pitched tone
which no matter where I
direct my ears cannot locate
whistles in their inner silences
and succeeding nights dreamed
the consequence of following day
mimetic reaction to wanting
to shine as well as to hide
with self delusive resolve
to withstand the paranoia
inherent in all novelty
untrusted to the death
which only martyrs
samurai and poets in their bloom
have gone like babies
into the arms of loving mother
the sex of fucking lover
and emerged rejuvenated
younger again Amen

and when I can
push no more

I succumb
to fear

the mes out
there are coming

though there
impels nothing

as far ahead as
I have pushed

and am

lost in a well
known way.

that I do. “He touches me,”

she whispers, shivers.

***

Gorges of swallows

Hunger suckling worms out their

Slimy mother’s mouth

***

A bird alights on

the dip of a gust of wind

perches and settles.

***

Long blinks follow the

images that the eyes cut

to conclusions dreamed.

***

Sleek kneed Johnny Needs

mo o the sof stuff ta git

n lay down the funk.

***

Metrical scansion

Poetic binary code

Dots a music scale

***

Future transmissions

referenced to the past predict

mnemonic device.

***

Instantaneous

message: Get away before

even happening.