6 poems 

FAT-LIPPED

God the mantis flares

Black deer belly,

Errs the god

Soda spans

Eyes of animals spring,

Don't grass

God the porno

Eyes moan makers

Separated by weird

Flash-lit bots;

Fried pools, unshapen feed,

Instinct-crusted roads

One God: the Eye that lives on

Perfect parking machines

World-wears out

Animals flashing lights in their off

IN THE TONGUE ON BALLS

Windows clone

Soft, sunset bats

Then empty of fly.

A fog whispers

Saucy

Opal raisin sog.

Anywhere sprinklers

Stick right out of tits

I zoom

And point to the moon

Tracing a finger

My head escaped.

RECTANGLE

From voracious jaws

A cross carries Christ

Shooting spooge at ceilings pre-recording

The Mystery

When I push its panties aside

Has a jungle and

I forget my saliva

In American

STRUGGLE UNDER THE BUN

stones, wind

thrown where

another days wind

throws

same stones to

all the same

disintegration

wind, stones

belong where

another wind throws

same day to stones;

all is

wind my

disintegration intends

SHORT LIFE

Voices form a bucket

Night-moths warn 

Voices form the moth

Buckets swarm

Gurgling tonsils adorn 

Hollow grins from black

Moths harvesting the bucket

Night-voices core

ATTACHED TO THE LIGHT

 

Asshole clouds with minds like bridges blown up

Achieve the huge mass of birth in my eye

In my cock

There's small airplanes crashed into grammar schools and

That natural bison range is a kindly bumpkin, just

Some middle-of-the-road rain of bodies

Consuming billions of blindfolded computers

Wet from boiling overnight

Assholes

Collide and the distance

In my eye damns my cock

Birthing huge blindfolds for minds

jirts

BEST BUY/ babies die

4 collages

3 collages

2 poems

BEING/GOING GANGS 

Plan lives within microbes

Not certain why I begin.

To reserve the best numbers possible,

My imagination plays coffin-maker

And composes fast a population

Watching the storm while the storm loses interest.

Life is falling into the sea in flames.

But the just born went an opposite direction

To guarantee they'd be modeling a type of

Ready-to-eat meat before seer-season ends.

By flying glass, I write swallowed groundwater.

Microbes have no memory of that.

MISTAKEN FOR JENNIFER ANISTON

I find myself stunned by news sitting in cars.

Every engine's running, daring some daylight

Of demons melting backwards.

I am afraid of shaking all over.

I ask who said nothing and save myself.

The street is oily furniture made from plant beds.

My stomach's lost its legs, the smell

Has no head.

I find my skin and a few wings for the baldness.

It's been a hard decision trying to survive.

The poor people have Internet

Made of water the size of boulders.

It's in a dark well in my neighbor

That my wife and I are provided shelter.

With bags of rice we wash the snowball fight

God continuously shakes.