2 Poems

DEAD ART SHOW

This morning the messiah was resurrected then forgotten
Like a bathtub.
All of time is a black factory and birth
Music is disgusting.
Help me roll away inside a wall.

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 is pregnant with horses bashed by cinder blocks.
I faked them during the witches sabbath.
The avalanche bellybuttons landscapes titled in left fingers.
Sun-myths cockblock a very old staircase
Following the soul's contradiction.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF

I pay my art so well, it massacres fill-ins.
Yeah, all you twenty-something hotties comprehend
Deaths of notable animals is esophageal cancer.

From Leopardi comes a remedial no man's land.
From Peret comes mayonnaise ice ages.
Biological lifeforms wage sages too slow to load.

I swell my roots to reveal the twin beneath my skull:
Bohemia and bad sex and worse TV.
He bowls half a porcupine lip in my half-grave.

About me, there's not much to say.
I move through the world with an unearthly freedom from attachment
While belonging to the profound process of change.