The sport of Winter

horizon is frozen
and the forward sweep of
swirling, leaping snow
dusts the wind in a
hazy Broadway lit canopy
following the smooth curves
of the hips and hills
lips
pills
shallower the ditches and bent
grass, crisp with frost
pulls in cryptic lines
teased by electromagnetic
forces
heartbeats
and humming transformers dripping
ice daggers poised
to leap into the void
as if hoping to float
like soft petals of
spring
smash
into crystal bones on
the glazed blacktop

conversation with the unborn

in the desert
painted or otherwise
the rusted hoop of a shod
wagon wheel

a wagon
a wooden box that was pulled
by domesticated bovine?
yes wagon

turns over as strong silica
born on rattlesnake trails whips
passed leaving one thin valley

for the love of...
its a reptile, hissing and venomous
tail like a rusty hinge?

a cactus standing proud
in what emerald and leather finery
can be had in arid

its a plant
yes that's right, covered in spines
a reservoir for the deserts tears

wasteland desolation looks
on as the silent visitor glides by
in its own shallow rut

frozen

galaxies put beneath you
in one fluid motion turning
from me with helium
the base elements

floating free
arms wraped in black like
the coldest
cellophane
perfectly protected and unspoiled
and so i orbit

in spiral paralax
my gravity and yours a tether
swinging us like bolos

air hissing from my lungs and
the bulge of the sphere of my
eye reflects sunlight and dazzles
tears in perfect crystal

longing to speak love
my tongue pushes hard against
the roof of my mouth and
the bottom also

A presentation

buildings rise
mustier each roofline
pushes like rotten
stalks above the
treeline
housing these
damned whose hollow shuffles
push sheets
columns
in this they
are not unlike
thorns
or pastel bowling shoes
drooping ends of coarse
mustachio
and portents of gang rivalry
presented to innocence
in lines for
wax sticks to fill
for birds in mid flight
to suddenly find themselves
violently halted
a loud thunk
on otherwise soulless eyes
as he turns back to his
cubicle
or lack there of

the creak of the steps
in between heartbeats off tempo
syncapated
while coarse
hands like leathery spiders
crawl down my wretching throat
i push past and mumble in
broken english
my first and last language
stolen sweetly with caresses as welcome
as a pineapple to soft
supple...
madness ensues and the rickety ladder
victorian staircase slides serpent like up
three stories of ancient fears
piled one on top of the other
old bones
marrow like wind blown
sand

The intermitent clicking of the
of old relays their
magnets charged and
humming softly tunes
like quasars and summer
before the rapid decline of the butter markets

a thistle whips around catching
between flaking barbed wire like
dueling swordsman with crumbling
rapiers
stumble and slip on wet
granite

"so precious" she strokes my
hair like a 1500 dollar rare breed
although i'm sure
my papers arnt in nearly so
neat an order nor
am i groomed with pedigree
but as the stockholders have proven
i can beg and roll
over

look i'm capitualting to your
will imposed on me as a rock left
between the door and its jam
the solid outline its shadow makes
as i slide my Doc Martins through
the grit your powdery dead wood
has left on my entryway

i can see the molded blue
light and hear the fuzz of
kilowat hours ticking off the
gigahertz
plunging my hand into mounds
of circuit boards made obsolete
by genius

rough solder points raise
puffy white histamine born
welts along the back of my hands
and for an instant
i am the machine

spitting the last vestige of my sanity like punched tape
onto my hardwood floor
coils lying like ghost white
entrails in a ratty pile

GIGO
how clever of your slender fingers
tapping out my rythem for
the cheap thrills of your peers

Galavanting with Genius

settling in among
broken contraptions
of a dubious nature all
forward pointing antennas's
and draped in black
silk
so dark like a curl of
molasses rolling
a gliding reef shark
smooth to the touch
this up turned freeform
night mist
where keystrokes meet little
hiccups of thought
so black and
down the street
a tree shivers