Endgame



Each of these stones
is a neck


chain, is a blood
bowl.  Each


of these spider
bites


is retroactive. Is
radio


static.  Each
individual lion


is a limb,
including the head.


The head is where
everything goes


wrong.  Each
time I try, I fall


further into the pit
of me, the epitome


is apostasy.  
Let there be


nothing
& nobody


gets hurt each
time I think


this is it
there’s another


need for
something outside


of me made
better


by half a wit’s
endless brevity


anomie, lethargy
moving in


with their
parents


for some time
off time


to go time
to say hello


Hell--O
goodbye.

Formula



    Don’t distaste
my phrase & fray me
these ways. Don’t groan me
the fire code while I’m
broken from toe
holds. Don’t nod
at my desktop
& tell me I’ll
jaywalk. Don’t
soak up my limestone while
you sell me a snow
cone. Don’t spit on my quips while
you’re nipping my grip.  Don’t cup
my thrupple while calling us
supple.  Don’t grind
my rind while we’re brining our
swine.  Don’t
tread on yourself.  Don’t
not say you say it don’t
spray the shark repellant
at the anti-life
equation which doesn’t add up
to anything being said
without doing the do
not the did or the was isn’t
is the do-over that
never did nothing
but veer.

The Reflex


The politics
of doxxing. The atomic
option for the lucky clover.  The
lonely bruise you try not to lose.  The rag as it covers
your brittling bones.  The right to loan

whatever’s left
to you, dear reader.  The fleeting firsts for the forking
of the tongues.  The love of the clubs
when there’s dubbed
manifestos.  Isn’t that Bizzaro
on the masthead?  Every little thing
you do is law magic.  Question mark
over by the empty park.  
Rubber mallets for your knees
please don’t hide cards
in my shoes i need them to burn full
velvet, silk, &
satin.  It burns a monosyllabic
path through my vocabulary
quiz written as a multiple-choice choose-
your-own downfall windfall against
opportunity.  Neither brawn
nor brain, I’ve got a partner
in nobody & nobody’s ever
thought to wonder
why I wander
when I meant
to make amends.

Powehi



Your face shatters
in a puddle.  A bubble
balancing on a blade
of grass like
a question.  Never
say ever but don’t
sever the connection
betwixt the soul
& the body of water
that will drown
the body.  The mind
body problem is only
a problem if you have
a body.  Why the long
faceplant?  Facets
of disco balls
making constellations
in a party you never
attended in
1977 like time’s arrow
buried under a Forever
21.  Last night
on earth
a few people
fell asleep on the train
& woke up in a station
buried at the
bottom of a tar
pit just outside
of Los Angeles.  Here
there was
a Tower Records.
Here hair metal
went meta & became
a communal piece
of property.  Put
this sidewalk sofa
under the ultraviolet
light & you’ll
see some things
that defy scientific
explanation:
ride the sofa
into the middle
distance--home
sweet home where
candles melt into stubs
on jewel cases
& the sheets haven’t been washed

ever.

I Am Am Alone





Without a paddle or even
a conception of what paddle is


Where is friend?  Where is
anybody?  Everything that was


& will be in my book
until I am woke


by drum-sounds in the early
hours


The duck isn’t real
nor the water but


a water of the mind
To the sea


with me  Where is
wind?  I’m am


a plant a cone
in the shrink


crinkling candy wrappers
as the ships


are listed & your
canoe is not


among them because
you ate


the paperwork
Where is lamp?


I love
dark & night


is when I sleep
without a friend


without a skeleton
with just


snoozing &
snore  Where is


sleeping
cap?  Gas


mask?  Who
these crumbs


adumbrate.
Get sleepy.


Get sleep
perchance


to float all the way
to the octopus’s


hydrothermal electric plant
powering a nation

of cracked phones

God is 7



A raven who pecked
Johnny’s nose hid
in the honeycomb
when the milk
was skimmed.  He was
fortified with iron
& eight essential
oils--motor, canola,
olive, snake, bear,
crude, elegant &
coconut to facilitate
the trotting of the
destriers as they
scour the land for the one
who can untie the plait
in your topknot
like a freak with a fetish
for rubbing bald
heads with jojoba
until they glisten beneath
these geoengineered
weather balloons
built to save us
from our worst
impulses.  Your superpower
is pretending
to be dead
which is more useful
than it would seem,
especially
in this economy.  
There has never been
a bass player
or an atheist
for president but at least
every bursar has
within themselves a secret
birdcage filled
with parakeet excrement
& a copy of the locket
you gave to your
first girlfriend,
its hinges rusted shut
against your enclosed
school photo
from back when your hair
was so lush & majestically
feathered.

Lollygag



He is a loaf
aloof.  Forsooth,
I say ways &
means

mean men’s
amends never
veer when wending
nearer.  

Fools
spool looping
useless
unless usury
proves to be
a useful
idiot.

Stay gold
old man, new man
over matter
& overwritten like
a breakout
new novel
or a nine-part
series on the state
of Seapunk
message boards.
Oars
out.  Clout comes
from silver
tonguing slithering
creatures
down by the
sea
wall.  Law abiding
denizens wish Zen’s
splendor
when wading
into infestations of sharks
who harken surfers
farther from
the seen shore.

Endgame

Each of these stones is a neck chain, is a blood bowl.  Each of these spider bites is retroactive. Is radio s...