-Still, if one were to-

In Remembrance of Text.

–makes me 

yearn to pour myself into a glass 

of sunlight blown 

into the shape of your contented spirit

which spills pure splashes in holy sparkle like 

pulverized marbles upon my unruly mop

so fine i forget

it really is 

the fairest day

of the year.

the protestant archangel Speed

free as a Merlin though bled,

as a punctured

fuselage

leaks holy pressure thereby

denying our inclination to respire;

inevitable then, the raw birth

of the blind laws

of the heart land.

“i can’t breathe
i can’t breathe
it’s hard to inhale…”
— parquet courts

In Remembrance of Text.

i am having a drink,

i think.

the clawed cafe table

             wobbles.

frosted panes of glass,

talking heads,

sweat in swampy crooks,

coffee black, then

Maker’s / soda,

                     across from me

 Bulleit neat,

no idea

             what is      between.

i am having              a think,

glaring at feeble ink, repeat,

mute              what i wrote,

sixteen          mean          Mes       ago,

in            my black brain.

someone is coming,

i read,

very soon,        something 

is coming,

                                  i wait.

In Remembrance of Text.

she was the

night cloak clad

enemy

gross phony

after all.

In Remembrance of Text

image

–involved in 

          some cabal;

looking below

for          familiars.

i find a refrain

i forgot;

the first chord strikes

the loner match laughing:

dummy, true

believer, with a wick  /  a   

friction strip too brief

for light / hearts

love / sparks

search / parties

the joke is 

shadowed / 

shadowing me

and all

of course

largely misprescribed / 

fiction.

In Remembrance of Text.

the evening i reveal

me not-so-gentle

not so gently–

the dream’s first piercing–

encroaches with your every

batted

wink,

inevitable as the moon’s glide,

the dread of obese black clouds,

the moment my final purr

turns in my jaws with a hiss

to a coil, a wild, shaken growl.

In Remembrance of Text.

image

rewrote The Hollow Men this week kinda though bit of a laugh just kinda rewrote The Hollow Men this week meek jokey crank as refracted through the dingy unctuous New York Real Estate Industry Paradigm love them was fun for a sec now here we are spring soon version coming so soon so soon maybe forget it sipping ipas all day catch fleeting papers find newthing to do just kidding ipas? never.

“Tell that stupid mick he just made my list of things to do today.”

In Remembrance of Text.

flayed    filleted

frayed    fried

friday     afraid.

I heard from here pastel balladry

light bright beach-side citadel

of lucious los angeles

 scalding to touch, those speed-bright wires

threading oblivious seas,

suturing us and earth,

and everything,     coming

and humming a special little hymnal.

below all the lambs

clothe themselves in swathes of wry evening

amazed,

playing dress up.