Sunday, July 14, 2013

4 Poems


Ghosts here pant
Love conquered by hate.
On my path
Death comes too small.
I go inward and rob a liquor store.

This beast wind is awfully typical.
Just blank seas and nothing else can grow.
Areas rich with nil are spelled alike.

The manatee has my thumbnail and drinks like that.
I hope for its nest by the lazy exit.
I hope for the longest water.

I've looked far without seeing.
And now it's over.
Natural causes, no explanation.

Wind from warm nests
Spell what else to grow.
Contrary ways drop and I'm drinking thumbnails.
The leopard skin on me clouds frost spasms.
In a mountain cave I am the master of myself.


The demon sits in meditation,
Drinking or not drinking a cup of ears.
The hot tub becomes
An oil spill on
The shopping bags stuffed with shopping bags.

Car bomb.
My mother was an unidentified white male.
Tearing at
A lack of sunlight in the faucet
Is where sex with her comes in.

Drone, fuzz.
A sack full of 
Barely risen feet
Leave my bones.
Portable refrigerators emerge from dark otters.

They're cute and coked up.
They're comic, like employment.
My shoe goes to the bathroom.
There can be laughter when the whole world is burning.
My life is the creation of my mind.


I was born but I need not to have been born.
That's my choice to let the shadows get me.
The only time I'm not tired is when evil smells.
You know I know me from long ago.
Help roll away the stone.

The landscape impregnates horses bashed by cinder blocks.
The avalanche bellybuttons landscapes titled in left fingers.
Sun-myths cockblock a very old staircase
Adorning the soul's contradiction.
Help me roll away inside a wall.

I pay my art so well, it massacres fill-ins.
From Leopardi comes a remedial unfathomable hush. 
From Kharms comes a mayonnaise minute thunk.
Biological lifeforms wage sages too slow to load.
I bow, then bow again, maimed.

I swell my roots to reveal the triplets beneath my skull:
Bohemia and bad sex and worse TV.
They bowl half a porcupine lip in my faint grave.
Peace is a billion years of unearthly freedom from attachment
While belonging to the profound process of change.


A stream of fire on my head instead of hair. Lewd shadow theater on a frozen turkey. To rub it against my lap between scenes is sweet ethnic rioting. Pass the phone around to snap the desert turning to slimy cables. A frozen turkey tests its darkness. 

Dryer vent, that's one hot grapefruit. Isn't that how shadows say tangerine air conditioners make it so babies hug like orangeade?

And the tree and the grass and the flower and the leaf test my darkness, oil me. Things usually end on a blindfold labeled "calming spray."

Soon it's midday and my wife returns to pray. Somehow my rectum comes out of her mouth. So we furnish eternal laws in a tube of toothpaste. Our sofa brand names piles of short breaths that cannot be solved.

Raw meat secrets from blindfolded fangs. Amphibious androids protect well-endowed pollution. The virginity of sheep bludgeon the streets. The sunset is ill.

I hike full-circles in a vat. A frozen tree. A rioting grass. Vacuum sealed packs of semiautomatic killing sprees fuck my wife's tits. A bed of julienned pain jumpstarts that anal angel. Showtime. My heart is chincy. My mind struggles to free itself from the power of death. 

1 comment:

Tyson Bley said...

these poems and artworks rule, Miller.
one can dream about that droning fuzz of sex with her forever