the image
crucified
for its lack
of focus.
the loud music
over which
you hear
make
your blood.
the weakest
electric chair
this side
of moth.
father’s grip on a rolled-up magazine.
crow laundry.
an out-of-shape
coat hanger. & (and)
the news
that my nakedness
has died.
i.
chew toy
abandoned
at the throne
of old man
scissorlegs
ii.
a claw
from the lottery
of hands
the girl wearing a scuba mask is not on a skateboard. this, after all, is church. I see what you see- the writing suffer. I’ll wash, later, a pair of black socks from the minefields of the one we call birdbeak and you can be the puppet with a needle in its arm.
he cracks the motel room door from inside and pisses from wasp to spider to spared cricket. he can smell the baby’s back as it begins to burn a hole in the pocket of a bag-headed hitchhiker. the earth is 42 years old. a car in the lot below moves over a body and stops. the woman in the car is sucking a tooth through a cigarette. whatever god put in her cake is almost gone.
heaven is art and hell the artist. regret matters only to the creator of regret. brother hops around like a drugged rabbit. headcount is the nickname given by sisters to the outhouse built on a sandbox. an ambulance from dogcatcher’s dream puts the hurt on a flickering cornfield. our cellar is a mirror where thunder goes deaf.
eat loudly, mouse, for still I have my baby blood. loudly else you become a fish. else I jaw ear
from the character actor’s god.
I’ve held dogs as they die. vet’s office, 1993. a bad dream is a nightmare and a good dream is nothing. is a dog’s rib. I get an idea, here and there. design the same bathtub.
I catch them
these pairs
of common
beasts
that I might
separate them
one in the house
one free
and I live
outside
with my brother
and the nothing
between us
my hate
of all things
ocean
his love
for god
in a wordless dream I’m nowhere near anyone I can’t be. my dad’s mirror passes out.
kingsoftrain 