Sunday, December 30, 2012

3 Poems


A naked drowning victim inhabits my radical utopia.
The wildest onslaught of evil forces
The usual wealth of secret signs and riddles.
A naked drifting spleen stalks Johanna and the devil
Surrounded by priests in cumshot.
Their semen-sermons usher in 
Rocket ships depositing experimental environments. 
I quit flies on the flypaper.
A utopian underworld contains prayer-books for the shoeless snowflake. 


I sink my fangs into a rubbery-male shortness of breath.
I pass unnoticed.
Goddamn a field of flowers.
Like an asshole on a hand
They do otherwise.
Waves in the imperceptible tar once your dad
Order the anxiety of nests.
Those baby hosts numb me as night middles. 
I love the sound of going nowhere.


Because of my hair
I throw away most things.
I believe in traveling light, like the kid
With no chest in my tooth when I think.
On the road back to a mountain monastery I drink
A grave, hear the wind, and look oak.
Two tomatoes howl into the fog.
Another fireball just fell out. 
I write my wife the stone here. 

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Monday, December 3, 2012

5 poems


I live to read about life going out.
Ornamental stingrays provide my empty starless night.
We do a porn tape and make a hot Mom gift.
I don't like life unless I don't get it.
There's sharks in churches, chickens with a sky.
Well, maybe we've got something to talk about.
There's not too much more of too much more.


I bike from an apple.
I model a painter's gasp when manhunting hikes in an apple.
The model's skin is a friend to the poor.
The poor arise and model an apple skin manhunting painting asps on a bike.
Some centipede walks on water.
Traffic collisions cunnilingus places where there is no pain of birth.
Why do people pay each other?


Temple marshes fart razorsharp utters.
No way to know if I'm alive.
The past, the present, what's the end of farts?
Screwing frozen ducks here and there.
Love is a total waste of time.
A partly finished ceiling pities me from appliances.
I hope to authenticate in jail someday.


I eat hot fields of cleaned squid.
I'm a cross of titty flesh.
Under several, one could be and grow. 
I am the unknown corpse on a bed.
Sorrow, secretion, extinction. 
Wonderful to the taste are bat nuts.
A flock of birds are nuts.


And thunder becomes bugs.
My elbows are garments on video linked black crosses.
The crows were leaving their gym earlier today when they bumped into my cock.
So happy is the animal anonymous to thinking!
In the end I start work on two heads.
The weather report tells me I rape one.
A random collection of dead animals is all the same.