APPLIANCE IN THE BALONEY SHIELD
SEANCE IN THE BALONEY SHIELD
APPLIANCE IN THE PHONY SHIELD
The camouflage is moving
All the people not there.
Tomb store.
I need money because of the cattle.
I need money because I don't feel
The tree I walk around.
It is a tree my body cannot believe.
Sick heaven of brown now.
To last is so cold plate.
MEASURE
I am past riding in my car.
A slow bubble out of a telephone pole.
I call nothing all.
Decapitation then Cheerios.
And one by one a picked be
Makes me talk as if with some heart.
Private deathbeds full of pleasure
Are what I see when I hear my thoughts.
I am more along than ever.
RETURN TO THE STARTING DAY
It is a windy grass
The moon has used.
It is the hour I remember old grass.
Clouds working and laughing and sticking it to me.
And halls of sea.
And explosions of backs.
And friends exchange ass cracks.
Friends change houses.
I think a sea of death is the greatest fun.
I am diving into death with new leaves.
And halls of my back blacken.
I hate my family.
WAKING WHERE WAKING DOESN'T STINK, WAKING
Where wheels don't stink.
Where I feel tiny insides of the dawn.
There she is starting up the stairs.
Material, I love you.
And then there's the whole country.
And then there's breakfast.
Heavy books for a kitchen floor.
The knock of the sunlight insists it's right.
I am a good man and a bad man.
An orchid covered with didn't skins.
My hands covered with veiny batteries.
I hate the white man.
20 years or so go past.
She is sneezing books of salty tracings.
I love being left to decay.
I rise from bed for days.
