Interior ransack
I did so in hell
Ground down to mocking
I opened the hamburger file
I sd 7 minutes
Backwards revealing a position
I took over
The lab
Making language
A beaker
A carpet of virtue spilled over
The edge, s of
A stilt walker
Over which a radio
I seem to have lost the thread
I was thinking I had a ball
At the last house on her street
I scattered the petals
Of rose budded poems
The wooden floor
The deep Oakland dead
At my feet
I stood lost
But somewhere near Candlestick
A big west
Has a deep ruin
I sample it
Like Cherry Garcia
The east is a lesson
Of meat rushing past
Its sell by date
This time a miracle
I'm schnockered on Coors
My terrible breath
Is halfway to Pompano
& more than grotesque
I shill for the juice crowd
Maybe a Sunday
Of church bells
Is drunk like an uncle
The past is a view
An alternate existence controls
The remote
The river's all ice
Yet clothes in a glass're the
Ripples of dead
& little grass corpses
Hold us together
I look all about me
I don't feel that
Ice is a felony
I look at my soul
Of brown autumn hillsides
The words, much of them hewn
Serve out a sentence
In order to live
The birds have white flecks
A subtext
All out of context
Usurps the subhuman
Meaning a foot
At a time bomb
Has crowded us out
Of a dirty white
Rat hole
In purring Subterranea
What is a bath tub
Bootlegged as history
If it sings out of key?
Someone sd
My papers are pending
We delve like a knife
In the all-tchotchke Crimea
The masses
Are bending a pipe up my nose
& fitting a noise
The go-getters revel
Into purple
Salvation
This time I have notes
I am tumbling towards waves
On a white grand piano
From the back
Of my mouth
I drive six bloody teeth
The sweet tears of oasis
Are slipping away
Into Impinging Ellipsis
The door of all Matter
Gives hope to a changeling
I am holding a candle
My voice is in tow
The town up in smoke
Going Yeah! Baby! Yeah!
But things are an olive
To begin with
A branch
A brkn down dial
Dear dad, the dean of my poems
Is a prefab
Pagoda
A frog that's surreal
As you are, dada
The origins I'm thinking
Are deep as a root
Oblivion's technique
& yes, I am light
& I am dread
The sophist of telekinesis
I pluck perfect items
From the shop's dusty
Shelving
The side show of a
Traffic jam
Paints on a smile
For everyday is a news day
The particulars
Are remnants
I send off a letter
Talking to heads
Sniffing out clues
O plastic plastic mannequins!
Spawned by machines
& pure elasticity
You nourish
Specifics
Each hard boiled stat
Shelters
Advantage
That house without
Paint
Stands nude as a bride
Its windows
Its doors
Its wide steps & porch
A face
That is plain
