no destination

there is no destination
just infinite encasements
nested obscurations
there is no refutation

we have no proof of being
can't see for the seeing
are slow to know solutions
or see through the corruption

attempt your confiscation
lift the haze invading
choose your side cascading
out of definition

we're playing with a time bomb
pulling at its wires
call me out as terrorist
or slave to my ambition

I'll tell you one more thing
you do not want to hear
the man that stands before you
is not the one you fear

and you yourself aren't solid
an apparition vanished
in and out of being
where all the money goes

lines so sure

floating landscapes
mud-orange, radish-red
a hint of a splash of yellow hovering above
hills falling at each other’s feet
like swallows, flying in clusters
losing themselves in one another

lines so sure, so true
there is trust involved here
the artist may have been close to her mother,
a locus of self-assuredness

the jumble at the foreground
is a blood-purple march of spears – battle foliage and the sky, the ceiling – misty
regretful, like the heart of a girl on her way
to her first day at pre-school

Happy Dog

it's the throw-away
it's the sink-hole
it's the first night out
in a while,
the soul of the moon presiding

it's melancholy
how it feels and sounds
against my ear

lips of velour sadness
kiss and whisper
terrible things
that flatter me

"Peaceful Easy Feeling"
the lady sings,
sitting in with the band

and this tasty Gennessee Cream Ale,
crisp and conniving against my throat
so honorable for its cheapness

and tonight
I can be
gone for awhile here
wondering how
I've survived so long
being so fucking
correct

kin ECT Id

Badass Id and I
went to see a film
while in college
about a young man
who kept killing himself
in order to get a rise
out of his mother

soon after
(our first and last trip together)
I got religion and
severed my connection
to my family

so that I could get high
on God
without psychedelics

so that I could dig a grave for myself
and, discarding my body
be free

but what actually happened was
I hit gold

for much like the boy in the movie
who, in the end, renounced death
for banjo-picking in a white suit
with suspenders

I joined the Lithium club
and came to give up my aversion
to happiness

my horizon
now 360 degrees
one step at a time

paranoia in a cafe

I am made of plastic
I disgorge
a pear
a crater
a mouth
an ignoble emptiness
that I cannot find a drawer for

flies circle her head
but ignore mine

my nose cannot find its way back
out of the classifieds

this is my 11th plague
and me
not even Egyptian
but a Jew

serves me right
for my past lives
.as a womanizer.
.in the mob.
.in the Third Reich.