lost eyes for sleep

lost eyes for sleep(ing pills
& i should gauge appropriate
times, when i have enough).

my worse fear: if time doesn't
exist i'm wasting something else
(perhaps your time) read
my dull apologies for butchered
words and the excited space between
our selves. the thunder metronomy
claps maps back
to greenfields (alone, & not my
fear) but better when i waste
your time (not mine)

slap, slap

of everything
these are the
world
most important
ideas
the
better
world
of
everything
the
important
better

skin flaps like wings flap

the murderer was a skinny ghost of a man
& worse, he was already in their holding cell
as they sent sirens down city streets.

time poem

unsure about everything except

time poem

relax is easy

i've been dragging my feet for a few years

obviously

free refils

pencil machine operator

"in heaven, everything is fine.
you've got your good things, and i've got mine."

& like that the birds were ornaments

we plucked them from the sky like strawberries

skullz skullz skullz

Always forward.

My egg timer scalp
rattles loose hairs
over tax returns. I
pace poles, back & forth
hands flush

glam rocket

By chance, I’ve dialed any
number to nine.
Street phones disconnect
people over internal
services. I connect
backwards & here I am,
my birth, riding the white string,
my horse, my saturday;
I sprout the first steeple
from bloody hills.

The flash makes yellow
eyes, the doom child
grows only bone.

kp yr ys frwrd

(electromagnetic seesaws
rock
back & forth
over loose ground;
speed infinite waves
to larger stars:
react:
speed infinite waves
to primitive minds
& new fascinations
in hard stones
spread
science over wastelands)

take the bandages off

& take a look.

the return journey

1. all i know and don't know
is part of the problem.

2. wood grains climb my feet;
my antlers are here, stiff like powder kegs

3. i'm listening for the hooves

spin usidedown helicopter blades (cry the feast cuts & chase)te

my asthma moans credulity & i ride
the white string behind your stride, lungs easy

until you turn around.

(I've spent nights with sunflowers; my albino
eyes light clear paths through blackmold caves.)

parable 15

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beneath the fingernails of the world, sharp
claws swing violence. we hide in the dirt & some hide
for too long.

these days

fly high big guy

power crystals