RANDOM ACTORS, POISONOUS SPIDERS
Shrivel icicles to a city ablaze.
Cast down sea waste of the virgin in riptides,
Oozing small defibrillators tangled around the fins of otters.
Unfrozen devil, my unmade feet dream of your parachute.
The dream recognizes itself as urgent, mist-gray.
Streets break into a thousand sheep.
A stream of fire on their heads instead of rain.
Boils, fields, bones, pails
Pity most the lewdness of the grain.
THE BODY DOES NOT HELP THAT
I die before
what I am.
That I am
a river emptying its same things,
I die before I get this.
There's a world before
I am this.
Solitude and same things
empty all I understand.
The body does not help that.
AND AT IT
There is blood everywhere.
Between rich and poor are fleas and lice
Having their silent piss.
Five violent seas dig it.
Five violent days
In space; all I've thought is
Unproven blood in my past.
I just want to walk
With a belly full of living things
Wanting to live.