45*21

hammers on delta
crammed into space
only not expected
something going wrong
wind tilted backward
into oval space
snapperhead in can
blown up dollar
they collar you
looks like vice
try to hang
made in Tianjin
boiled up supper
got the grip
banjo playin fool
grabbed my balls
hard to find
called the police
need a job
cry on command
ease into it

45*21

blue moon and this house with the leather window
mirrors my mom outside with a rake
my dad sneezes "oh shit!"
the old garage catches fire & the chief of police
he smokes a big cigar
my neighbors are millionaires but they drive
small cars. There is a heart beat
but it doesn't know its own, thinks it's gray
that is why the moon just is
not a cursory thought as leather is laced
the strychnine nightmares of a gambler
who's got nothing to lose but loss itself
a character on some shelf of life
never gets written into its novel
how many its does it take to screw in a libel
I bring myself to the brink the channel energy
elsewhere where I might know it goes
eyeballs wander in three directions
and your pulse is taken by the night nurse
that is always your curse
and it belongs in the cabin of stove stokers

45*21

these buildings and their lollipops
rearrange your desires and destinations
in this fire engine time is a flame thrower
the divine belly in a glass blown dream
cranked from the tractor oil night sky
I give you my hand as the substance wanders
he stood above and sprayed and dripped
the dragons appeared a gray, blue, aliseran crimson
the spray of warmth like steam on the face
this window of black leather that separates
us all by mirrors of mistrust is what we ask
when we ask the dust
the fuzz under chin in my mansion of time
is like a ghetto, err toward happy
the punk walked down the street with green
halo mohawk singing so loud it echoed on the houses
John Wayne was a fag as if it meant something
to sleeping angels in desolate holes
you cram it all in a bag and it retires in a frowz
the Nashua clicks with its heated lodgers
we put ice on our wounds then it's morning

45*21

the apple falls from the tree
the tree is not far behind this time
the apple is blind to it's destiny
or is it they wonder staring up into something
they guess they gather some meaning of
it holds them in this mystery
and soon it fades as mystery
the closet of many unopened doors
the channel in which we tuned
the floating and swirling
of perfect nature scenes
the apple falls from its place
an unknown entity this time
a gross mistake we take for some idea
that we call ours but in truth is the glue
coming undone in the groaning upholstery
this chance appearance, the gross negligence
the tree is not knowing as much as it's known
it holds them wondering and those stars
it's captured are in nature a gross mistake
and that is when we have our second take

45*21

today I saw a miniature person
spoke a language half doctor half hen
owing to the fact that he often inhabits a Siberian gnome
killing cattle and causing bad habits
birthdays are celebrated for an indefinite period
the house is given a rigorous future
during which he dwells upon request
at midnight under the bride's promise
wolves all do their share
since no deaths are caused by illness
hollow birds know all
a pair of twins fallen victim to occasional horse rides
whistling loud messages a few uncomfortable nights
one of the favorite postures is cuddling
the Yugoslavian sort gossiping, drinking, eating
in the alcove with wool hair and beams
Superman lost his strength
flaxseed is the secret the wife spins on her loom
this means, of course, completely nothing
to supply small rodents with winter
goblins are small little dudes dressed in black

45*21

what a simple task
it never gets done
the earth it moves
the greatest to the weakest
in a moments touch
nothing for the fierce to understand
read your book and
forget some anger
it moves along in digits
and trails in numbers unknown
you p[ounce) the only trail
one left alone, one left aside
you must attend the gathering
it will be you to fire melt
a canker on some religion if not yours
on the ceiling hang the animals of your desire
the fire of the penticle
the knowing of the dying
outcast for the time it took
but the balance is in the mirror
and the cast of the sable cloak

45*21

crack god save me from the devil's stare
don't freeze my wind horse with your battle axe
I'm just luxuriating in my lazy ass ways
the guitar goes blingity bling bling bling
without arrogance my open heart became a light
which to read my wary fortune
I gave my boots a shine like the moon
rear guard country boy dumb enough to travel on
to overcome certainty is utterly fruitless
don't be cruel with the light behind me
it is nine cats to wonder and two to shun
I'm just a country boy and the lord is on my mind
feeling that certain ticking of a near wound down watch
the devil leaves on his own stage
a parrot whispers something as it locks me in its cage
let your wisdom connect the power lines
pee a stream of microbial wonder
the wheel of fortune is the wheel of doom
the road out of town is blocked by a bathtub
hmm! fireworks might have flavor
and it might be yellow like chicken