(visions)

 

[absence vision]

wherein
the white soup
of thought
that could not
sustain
the brainless
pilot
of paper
airplanes
was drawn
from my son’s
unheard
ear
might memory
attend
foresight
the church
of loss

[fasting vision]

to punish my brother
for no reason
I told him
I could see
his stomach’s
shadow
but because
my visions
never
work
I vomited
what my sister
ate

[city vision]

downloading
the horror movie
that shows
your penis
takes
a long time
in the city.

others
are a grief
I came alive
to miss.

[mob vision]

soon
is a baby
studied
by the scholars
of now
who
in their prime
predicted
that jesus
would be
in the scarecrow’s
future
the darkest
bird

[age vision]

as it had not been afforded the opportunity to go mad, we called it woman. its baby wasn’t getting any older. our plan was to use its house blindness to burn the oven but its baby got underfoot and its dog whistled our cat to a boil. my guess is we were trying to be men without blood. everything we hungered for began to taste the same.

[blown vision]

a sucker
for anything
can’t come back
to haunt her
my mother

(like a genie
rubbing
for no
luck
the arms
of my father’s
electric

chair) is aging

[wheelhouse vision]

the animals
out of earshot
come back
as phones.

you have a son
who like your father
holds a mirror
up

to some
nobody’s

paranoia, a daughter

who steps on crickets
as part
of god’s plan.

the wax baby
isn’t my thing
but appetite
is.

[acolyte vision]

the spider has seven legs no longer in the raccoon’s ear

–

god is from another planet

[king vision]

as intended
we do not
immediately
know
it’s a mock
resurrection.

our fathers do not suffer
magicians
lightly
and hoard
blindfolds
as if they are low
on photographs
of women.

our mascot pig
is a shitty elephant.

[sylvan vision]

nudes
from the circus
of harm
grab
the evolved
handle
of my father’s
apocalypse
and though
I call it easy
what I’ve gone
on the doll piss
I can’t help
but bride
up
a storm
giving oral
to a corncob
from fixation’s
honeymoon

[vision vision]

if man’s interpretation of god leads man to interpret man, we are lost. my neighbor is crying. that’s not her house.

I woke up in the tree again

the house itself
had left
run
once more
the crucifixion
on tv

father held the infant
its brain
concocting

slow motion
for widows

[quarrel vision]

I am not a warm person. different gods, none exist. did this really happen? the things I counted myself as a person passing were longer than I thought. someone kissed jesus on the ear before he could get from bad fish the poisoning that took your mother from hers. now is the act of stuffing a picnic blanket into a basket of doll grief and then is the fossil of suffering that bones invisibility for daring to redress the father of great avoidance about the loss of behavior in his boys of sudden things. what I do I don’t when gutting a stork.