STAINED GLASS FROST ON PIERS OF MOORED LIPS,
their secrets in suspense.
The sun is scuttled into pocket crevices,
locus of the moltings of the void
solstices weaned of memories
fanatics searching for transitory prophecies
A sole cat at
the edge of time
crouches in wait for ruins.
At the edge of its rock
a ghost snaps up foam
immediately dissolved in its shroud.
Below the squalls,
all disappears, only raw heart drifts
the sand of lost tears
Ruins raging, jolted by dunes,
drift toward burning blizzards,
dismantlers of the void
perforated by memories.
plastered on the raised rejects of the sad
even loyal shadows abandon them.
Where to scoop up some ghastly deceitful
ghost sand in order to recover
our karmic ferrymen
dissolved in an unspeakable alchemy?
PAIN RIPS WATER OUT OF A TORRENT
emerged from a glacial ransom.
Scattered blooming moons thicken
the forever radiated corpse of a shadow.
Smelling of magnets a greenhouse skin
expands the void over the decoys.
Cries crisp the rock-work as soon split by
the hatchet breath of diving bats.
A tin sun laminates tears run wild
that gnomes waylay and nibble.
WINDOWS LOCKED INTO
the finitude of the soul.
Only the leap
before its time
flings forth the serene sigh of the fall.
Thick word walls clawed
out of praying bowels could not check
the executioner of doubt.
Below, on the concrete,
tepid brown rejected years spread out around
a bland mosaic of looks.
EARTH HOLLOWS OUT IN MY HANDS.
The buzzing of terminal moraines
by a sheer drop of anguish
soldered with sigh-weaned sap.
At the dawn of blood,
already plundered by the outbursts of fate,
between the projections of labial faults,
Artaud’s memoir of disjointed planets
by the insolent cats of the solar barge cats,
between the folding-doors of dusk
taunts the fevered horizon of
our pupils slogging on.
AZURE FRACTURES THE ASHEN BLOOD HONEY
in voracious bulbs.
The fruitless blooming of a rictus
draped in mist
clawed by hooded crows.
Rocks lie in wait
in mud silence
which vortices squeeze around.
Spiraling eyes struggle in
the breathless drought of flashes.
O demented amnesia of adoption’s chaos!
THE SUN STUMBLES AGAINST THE ANCHORED INK.
The page bursts into a fertile mire of continuing
Blackness springs back, detoured by tortured
Eyelids barricade themselves.
Red fury of the unseen
grave-dredger of memories
For Tristan Tzara
Translated by Clayton Eshleman
is not dead—only pretends to be, and on This
once more erect my eclipse.
remain the best mail slots for our fugues on
flood where Moses drifted
two buoyed nipples
the reeds of the Pharaoh,
of honeymoons and pickled egos.
repeats its palatial belch
the old hieroscratched code of heliotropic
sullen lickers of baby scarabs.
a few Dada wars ago
new gang of rich Romans attempting
the frog, trying to grow larger
bull’s-eye bull, suckled
udder and deified the milk.
wrong to identify the Bible as runny
cheese, it was in fact
Latin Empire, the cultured
of the Pax Romana!
returns to the stoned ignovimous doors
handleful of Europas out of their potless minds.
be ransomed by scalping ice caps
buttocks, especially since
double was caught red-handed in
bath disguised as Charlotte.
the last touch to her purist royal pear coulis.
two-faced mud of shut eyes
fish of the Rising Sun makes lies glitter
lies quickly turn green as withered
wings. A great wall of unicorns
and closes in on the belly
with each penetration,
noon? Encumbered with flies
down by mythology’s malefices,
forth its polar bear star, snorkeling under
black ice that our orbits furrow.
spiders have confessed their fetid sins to
and raucous seabass
from Don Juan’s certified neck.
Dunhuang caves the homeless broccoli
abandoned baby zucchini
raked into a Ryoan-ji
sighing fire, poached in Tzarist vapor.
is gone, without even leaving an abbess.
of checkered camels
by pycnogonidic cenobites,
beribboned with blighted tapir prayers.
along the stucco banks of our resentment,
of bearded captains with spongy
eyes are sodomizing buttered flies.