A Barrage Now

On Later Falling Apart

In one apartment light streams

warm and blue, through a moon.

Lapis smoke swirls and spreads

like the memory of a distant sound

while the TV picks up the lost pieces.

Outside, a galaxy sizzles like a fried egg

picked out the emptiness

before chewing its nebulous albumin.

I would like to fall deep into

its gaseous lips, silky oil slick

blooming hot and thick.

On what did Atlas stand, then,

when the dust sparkled to stars

and oaks shot up through cracks

in reasoning and eggshells.

Route 41

The bus is hissing like a flat tire

“What?” an old beaver man.

“Not this route, sir.”

Vibrating lights, backseat like horror

story of two lovers

miles apart.

Lurches ahead, this great beast

the liquors left over in my gut

lurch, launching me forward

into a hollow time—

Only ten minutes passed

since the empty bus is popped

into a loony bin.

Windows like picture frames

holding the strangest family portrait

of strangers who drop fly-like

along.

the sensitivity in everyone's eyes!

In Silver Yarn (Mash up of Camille Guthrie's "In Captivity")

I drifted along past buildings

like a blank piece of paper

knees swallowed up by scenery

snouts disappear into wild grasses.

We see hanged faces and ravaged dolls

everyone thinks of a different radiant.

Raven catches a shiny fleck

yellow white red blue squares.

Be careful. This is very heavy.

Action of a bird landing

Action of light on a hat

Spikelet of laziness and love.

Fix here you expectant spheres!

With ears like a full bathtub,

the why stuck like sequins about your face,

hair like a cloudy day.

See here my heart,

he smells like a virgin—

with a bellybutton like a luminescent watch

and blood like melted crayons.