temperatures

Tides of broken exchanges, On the lamb and over the wire, They tell me all my words are overcast with uncertainty, But it is they, who don’t know how many days I’ve been on fire, Catalysed by dragon fly wings and lizards feet, I walk the middle arroyo Where the edges of the fractured and starless insecurities gather, The unanchored migration of eroded earth, Forgotten by the stable and unified, I grow a fortune of piercing mementos, Deep in these arroyo walls, A tale of tomorrow, To come into my open hands, That can only touch the floor, Tides of the trapeze circus clown Holes in the safety net Stolen years ago, By friends organic methods he never knew Recover the oil medium He has forgotten it was once his source of this slippery floor He sings to his audience “I want your dead alliances, your misplaced anecdotes,” They are my only hope for freedom now, Tides of the married and medicated leave my answers behind, No longer bound by the survival code, I am the water logged bottom feeder, The boogie man who shouts louder than the whole town, And they’re precautions pervade, Above the missing muzzle loader, And my innocence fades in the tides, As the rip cords tighten around what’s left of a day, Tides in the eye of a needle, Dancing though the cave, Invisible threads meet all my teeth miss aligned Shadows within shadows Gratuitous complications Corruption leaks The creeper promises to return Under the cover of deep holes, Under the seed caught in the red river of my hearts fatigue, Tides of the alien deep in my mind, Green beginnings in the soles of my feet, Grinds the black and white to dust, He is of the broken age, Can’t remember where he’s been from day to day, The song of death sets in my heart, Death itself is reborn, The myth of immortality and everlasting life is actualized in the cage, Where I hide things I don’t want the alien to see, Tides of the chrysalis’ wet wings, The return of lost and estranged friends, Pinches from the shore, Clouds spring from the expanse, Crawling clay vessels, Pass transit check points, Watchtowers that fade in and out, Transistor signal identifiers, Weigh porcelain bones of lava filled marrow,

knees

Painful separations and I just want to keep running Can’t find my way back from the loaded gun, Painful encounters and I just want to keep holding on, Can’t find myself in the water fairy skullcup, I feel trapped, I feel I’m standing on one leg, and half my words are gone, Chatter turned to falling stars, Gravities freewheels keep erasing my corners Keep bringing in all my insurgents My insignia never dawns, I climb on interpretations, And I’m stranded out on the edge of a secret Let me go let me fly let me sing, Vaporize me in the tube train, To the end of insesecurity Is there another way to get through? Can I find clean waters in this shaking obscenity? In this right of the hunting ground, flight of hunger, risk of delight, height of incubating wonder in the distance of a deep sea bubble, I’ve been captured by the evening By the heavy weight satellite, A place no one can see, On a leash in the feathered breeze Can’t touch the loose piece of fur frenzy Buzzing through my sheets Outcast on dark nets Caught like a frightened seal, In the sites of a guided missile of a random mad assassin, Cradled in the chrysalis of a broken heart, All alone in the melting point, Salt conjured for the pleasure of escaping into another state, Screams couldn’t reach past the breaking point, Pledge of the forgotten chasm, Scenes spreading and receding, To get back to the message that was once held in the sleepy wonder of awakening, In a battle of sweet din, Breathing closer to the window, Vaporize me with other voices Pass me over other courses Curses inside the flowing flight of birds, The way the sky touches the wounded core through the wind, Spilling time out of the scratched mirror My hands just can’t hold onto the perimeter All my distances spin in the compass, Eardrums sound the alarm, My breath like a desert squall There’s no freedom from the shadow stuffer

This web of Easter fractions, My desperate suspicions, Feverish dancing phantoms in the fields of agelessness, (In the vacuum of cold pressed obliterations,) This thicket of unformed words, Informed by celestial spore tracers, Markers of the quiet alarm, I’m purified in all a test, Towards the truth meter, (Rules,) The edges of café windows, In hanging gardens, Bright with promise, I meet my saviour again, (Pick and fly,) In golden aerial rooms, I’m reborn the snake waiting in the sirens pool, The bait, the tension, the flight capsule, the ambitious miracle, Tempered by a silhouette exposure, On the wrong side of the cave wall, Looking for the direction that narrow band of a smile points towards, In the dilation of the dust blown catastrophe, My eyes resurfaced, I lost my protection, (My favourite lie,) Prophesy blues, The radiance of a distant star, Someone on the edge of liminal heat, Far down the street, She hides her feet, She sleeps in the birthday cake, Her wishes still get to me, In empty pools, In love with nights final curtain, Swallowed by all the names of the lost, Destabilizing premonitions, Reassemble themselves on the other side of the sky, In the hands with little white gloves, My eyes will never forget, how those anatomies work, Someone of softer exposure, Can get through the garden wall, Deep melting never spread so far, Through the boundless pool, Their estimations ripple, Two layers I must touch, One of surfaces, one of between, A secret isle, Signature birds, My eyes restored, Seeing out through the eyes of those I love,

flower

Wispy glow of predawn clouds, A few high hanging winter leaves catch traces of the beginnings of a morning breeze, City lights float in a hazy sunken city, In the riddles of rolling in tall wet grass, smooth familiarity of eleven missing dwarves, The red moon chakra of the seventh goddess, Takes me to the lost echo that will not accept its’ boundary The caesium touch locked up in some lacy veil, The dual valved yellow fever rolling on the floor Misty edged cooing chakra Windows of quiet dedications, awakened bitchenostrophy, High ranking queen of the cherished saturation procession Shadow echo, Two pronged tongue child with edgeless eyes of the sky, The walls that once gave identities and references now open windows, For the wounded echo sensitized to their underpinnings Sees them turning back into night, (another trick of their slinky feet,) Sees their surfaces turn to sand, Lonely lost echo no longer hurries through the Lady’s’ alien shore Looking for some heat hunches to escape a whitewash whirl, Endless echo settles into the seasoning of polarized winds, Bottomless echo breaks the silence of stains on the walls, In another room a mismatched twin in bitter melon envelopment, Film making with empty ghosts that have many names Finds a million lenses to take their sulphur bodies into the sunrise, Ashes to ashes The walls of existence fall away in elastic stitches A touch of the balloon of all directions, my favourite star, Melting lenses All are companions joined in sewn up sing a-longs, For every sensitized little amplification, In the contagious molecules of the flickering lights fragmented overdrive, Plugging into little clover circles Seventh wing saved from the hopefulness of the fishing net, Lamplight lover tastes the dawns’ subtle illumination A thirst that becomes a guide of subtle nuances, Broken open echo, edgeless echo breaks the code of misappropriated beginnings, Knows holes in the nature of being ness the shape of hearts and wings, Each breath a step into wound transducers, Gravity and all the keys to kneeling So many invitations the echo begins to pass through the birth cervix, Found in sweet consummation of my fingertips

folding

Every night I grasp in seizures of thirst, Chasing at the empty wanton speed of collapsing neutrino blues, Trying to preserve my beaches from the sea, With my thunder nut double dabble knot, My second cousins third eye school scout, But the darkness itself is another eye watching me, And I touch the boundaryless eye, I feed it my deepest peace, Trying to preserve the breathless from the sky (Call it the pain hotel with rooms for everybody,) I touched every colour of blood, And the sound of the darkness came out of every rose, The first one down and the last one to cry, Learning to sing my own name, Use myself up saving little hot snakes with broken searchlights, I touched every corner where I appear and disappear, In the record keepers eyeglass, Where there are no traces of the subways sailors, Just density shifts in the mirror mask, And rumours of free delivery, In these corners of vacant cats eyes, Towers of torrefickla glimmer, I was the first to test the shiny surface, The last to find it was a transparency, So I asked the dove as she dove into the crater, Did we make some new blood dancing on broken smiles? She gave me the news and it didn’t even sound strange, “No, we stole it from the blind without them ever knowing it” The story was so soft, I couldn’t take my eyes off her fault lines, Where the darkness whispers marriage vows between us, And we take each other drowning in prairies of cryptic criotic cube principles, Where I can have the riddle all to myself, And milliseconds no one will notice us forging our initials into the crashing waves, Our only touchstone of trust, while we dream of the shore, Proof of each others existence, Secret keepers of each others shadow, Import some skylines from the contours of each others hips, Fragile folding edges of fault lines, salt time themes, Did we get some new names in the secret sea of worm holes? Some new balloons singing to the stars? Some new streets watching the open sky with its promise of redemption in solar winds? Some new relations falling through the lacunae of slippery similarities of lips?

OUT OF SIGHT

Ride in wet shadows through loop handles in between truth and proof, Between the jewel pump and the mood sample button, In my teeth a sole fisherman remains, The light dries on my navel, High gauss harvesting, between time and a record, tied together in the valleys of moribunds’ long slippery venomous green flight, Blood tide in a wet salivating hero, The sweat never clears, The vapour forever permeates between star dust and the oblivion born, In the swollen windmill distinction of “I”, Three days of raining for the water diver on the edge of wet currency, I forget my eyes looking for that little collapsing star, The light dries to hold all the letters together, Did they ever wish you well? In those threads of round succour. Star diver, on the edge of spare change sentiments, The ample hands that spill their old hues on the floor, Holding a frame to trust and the triggers heady thrust, A folding antelope gliding flash, Subtle dross connectivity, The wet and the weaving in the curtains of the heart machine, Someplace soft for my head, Someplace warm for my empty streets, I forget about my fingertips, The sweat never clears from the news they sell. Break down in the fuzzy dawn of my quiet needs, Outseeded my brain like a mushroom cloud, In the stutter prize of lost voices, Yesterday’s floorboards chipping away, Little burnt offerings of slip skin, Reborn for the last supper, The thinnest intrusions, The light dries, on the shore, but out of bounds, Beneath blanket floors, My little collapsing star, did the ever wish upon you? On your wet slippery sidewalks, Or between meteor webs and the silhouettes of a million watching eyes, Everyone just bets on the forefront, Until crowns of corruption usurp the saviours pause, Where algorithms endless sheen drown themselves, Star dust in a wet tailspin, The end of sight in the double mind, Looking induced through a few basic sketches, Uncanny hinges attempt to sever the rhythms, Induction lines and second sight, The stranger dries nonetheless, even less, In the fragile festival in the boarders of magica, Working the sandcastles elaborate mirrors, Attempts to retrace the curse of continuity, Resetting the three days of wayward wishful viewing, holding the wrapping dissolution, on the edge of the tide, the quiet flow tried on my deepest fears, The person to person limits, super summations, Break out of the ground of deaths intimacy, Take refuge in the generator of pictures of the storm, In the control orbs features of mismatched dividends and suspects, Orders of complication from forgotten lores probe the restful core, Bounce back the end of flight, all the edges reconverge, Eyes too thinned by stories beneath the skin, Fragile footprint wells and faces in the windows turn right into my house, Nuclear warmth in a perfect memory, poised, What does it sell for now? As the flowers fall and make the news, Wistful instigators inside the sea salt eruptions, The light dries again.