Basta

One day I will walk the earth

Through the hills and countries

Wading features troubling

Watching creatures huddling

Praying afloat for fear 

My feet will be bare on the earth

And the slime and muck will come

To teach me the meaning of a story

In the morning of the world's journey

My hair will grow to connect the earth

To the lightning of presence

Branching barriers and then fleeting

Like a brain's electricity bleeding

I will watch the earth come to me

As warp fills us to the taste of metals

And life begins the eternity it meant

Dearly beneath the soil steps have rent

Wreathed in my newer insanities

I'll try to trust my way to bleed the rest 

I'll try I guess

Here it snaps back

An ego a breath a toll a gun a shot

Blastpoundbangcracksnap snips

The reel short

It's real short

Forget the forgetting 

Run or be run

And then make sure you have already begun 

Sing or be sung 

Ring or be rung

Drier then the cold death of the universe

Placid behind your eyes

And for fuck's sake

Cut that name from your life

Rosemary

Wear rosemary on a rainy day

Please thank you 

I'll take you in my arms 

And crumple into the closest, oldest, primal comforts

Or should we consider the heavier ones:

Birch pine cedar

Burn them perhaps

Pyre away that surface involvement

Be the single radiance

And cuddle In wolf pelts

And those looks that ask everything 

Of the small furnace inside us

Bos of pictures

You made up a box of pictures

You made them up for me

Whether I was worthy, willing, wanting

You drew them tenderly

And I have nothing else to give

And I had nothing left to say

From the moment moving, moaning, making

And I was nothing, given away

To mistresses woven like walls

To manhandlers who can only berate

While you were waiting, wondering, wanting 

To draw me through my given fate

And draw me through till I was made

And draw me through with lines and patterns

Which no matter how I use them now

Are just a box of pictures 

And I'm not a hero 

And I'm not a villain

I'm just tatters

How's all that space

winds on the flowers
pacing across axeblade petals
Poisoned curves
The metal stretch
of an indecisive creature
falling into it's own clouds

When so many strides
imagine themselves
into nothing

When so many straights
remind me of something
the sun like a runny egg
the rock like a broken plate

When the rockets all know
where heaven meant to be

Now up and up and up
Now racing spinning
Holding it all
In the very lack of matter
The dropoff of those things
That never mattered
It doesn't matter
flowers in her hair
The air
It's crisp
fit to leave the surface of the earth
Just right
to take distance
all I need is lift

Drivers on a storm

Boatswain
Blowing on his own chain
Rubbed red hot against his own skin
Pinging to him
In a language he no longer remembers
a language without halt or name
He catches some chatter in a drift
He carries the glide of the ship
Off along the thunderheads

Giving up on giving up

I took an evening

A book of inquiry

Delectable

A respiry 

And floated over nausea 

Spit from meditation

Pushing out the crusts

And last traces

Of sensation

Set them all to running

Running to my skin

Bleeding through 

What's left of my questions

Into a bowl 

Of sanguine elation

I am safe 

To vomit every last word

Every last organ

Every lasting pin

Placing me in space And time