Feb 14-23

Lend me your loins, hand me your glands
barf kiss & bees wax
the flush receipt

"he's in the psych ward"
"nobody home?"
"no, he answers his phone"

tylenol & pliers
his piercing iris
with a nail

irony gets all the attention

*

A ruralish squirrel
"Those dishes are not for eating"
Chinese antiquities, you know, Tai Chi
And then ... and then ...
A prophet's work is never done
He spoke to no one, wrote with his feet
I have a massive desire to become a flower
and when winter comes, buh-bye
Bon Giorno, the desire becomes lighter
with the sky

*

The day is long & the night is gone
"The stars between the numbers"
grumbles a fat gremlin
"that thought in my pants"
the untold riches of the upstairs apartment
x-ray specs & a two-skin vest

*

A sudden spurt of rope in the armpits
toes numb on the ungroomed street
we go down the throat
it is all throat, small clinging creatures resist our passage
but the barnacle penis, though long
can't support a rusted golden
2001 Dodge Caravan
We have our camping stove
and heat some chili
rolling down the throat
& the windows until the
barnacle penises snake in &
then it's up with the windows ...
Gobs of goofy gumdrops. If you told me
how far up you your fingers were, I
could tell you how political

These ropes we can climb up, it's a kind of
  orphan romance, and slicing
the cheese. For our enemies in
their putrid ponchos and gallant hats
we sneeze.
Unrealities
& work & work & work, for money

*

silos still stalks sun sky
skin scuffed sunday snow suppertime

*

smell like sweat. dried soup. brown paste
fever all day
"how high?"
how high can a sparrow fly
strapped to a nuclear missile?

Thank you for the tuberculosis.
In my next life, I'll come back as an Ebola virus.

Head full of goat's milk
salty and warm

Mouth gatekeeper
committee of abstract reassurances

meat in queue

when people get tired of being people they should
go jump in
the recycling bin

*

insomniac tonite     could be    is
major setback

a cervix kiss
o god o god
how much longer will I be able to inhabit
my fleabag motel?

"sometimes we sleep naked, eight of us
& we feel Him all around us"

I am afraid my penis loves you
more than I. No
not true. More often.
These days, True Neither. See
   nothing to worry about.

*

Train poem
should've done one then
2 years ago
dark train to Ukraine
dumb idea, traveller machismo
lights took out & only onions
all night to Krackup, next day
didn't sleep much
sounds of giant machines fucking
needed somewhere to go
onionskin on the floor
tracksuit yobbos
miraculous meeting of the spies
best friends for the stay
secretly defecting to chef school
this is all true
nobody hurt us
I wonder where the food came from
in the Gorgeous Hotel George
where we watched TV
peed in the sink
& didn't talk to no one
and drank till we could go home
and never talk no more
about the old days

arcades
everything behind the counter
& you could point "chocolate"
"dead jews" "mushrooms"
beautiful cemetery, excellent veterinary
table service
& chinoiserie

there was a tower
over city hall
took your money in the basement & the boy
led you through parishioners    petitioners
the mayor's office
his secretary
the dark closet
stairwell cold
slippery birdshit
then open air
bell weather    the whole city
light as a feather

Shevchenko glowered
Mickiewitz bolted
yellow break blue wheat train sky

*

coughed up a baby
sputum spud
joy of creation
orange juice
ovoid meaning!

berth / birth

brain is a mango milkshake
brain is bean gum buggery
skullduggery

a story written on a door-socket
or a bowl

"I told you everything I knew five-thousand years ago"

runaway in the rain

Sargon sat & smoked sardonically cigars

the time to tintabulate terror

haven't slept since the air was
your hair