Let the Words

Sleep's an insomniac lover reading ancient odes, fiery dirge and death, voice laden with violence, sex and honey Dreams are a repetitious chaos chanting that pulsates somberly like electricity This is a rock This is a rock in a park This is a park with a rock where green grass grows. There is a tree with a shadow near the rock in the park where the green grass grows Again. Over and over, silent images of a screaming rock. Again. Over and over. I cannot stop. Frantic replay. This is a rock that bends time and space in a park that exists only in my mind where the green grass grows and a tree casts a sad shadow to remind the light that there is always darkness, that speed is relative to its existence, that one with out the other means nothing I want to beg the rock to speak, cut the tree down, and turn green green grass that grows into ashes "I am not Moab! My father is simply my brother and my sister's only my mother when all else is dead." There is this rock in a park ...

step-father's marrow is a white man's, that's steadily killing him Cassandra (Mother) says graft versus host disease is a war he'll certainly lose Snakes have licked the ears of hers and mine, the fall of Troy is charted by doctors with monotone voices and weary stares Body stripped bare, he's already burned upon the pyre, Chemotherapy Ultraviolet scorching, patches of crusty flesh In dreams he plays a giant mystical organ with me, keys made of book bindings and slabs of gold, that slid beneath my fingers to a melody not my own He smiles, sways to the chaotic notes and when all's gone silent and still he stares at me; "The battles we lose inside ourselves will always kill us in the end." I beg Apollo to blindfold us until the fall.

i've plugged in the television turned it to channel snow with its steady raspy whisper snow is cold it comes during winter like wet salt or cotton balls its getting to be spring now birds are starting to scream and the air is damp and warm channel snow will keep the smell down, cover these bodies in my kitchen with dusts of ice you can get an orange extension cord 120 feet long for thirteen dollars at home depot, a small pulley and two bolts for eleven eighty five every wednesday they'd stop by the light, the word, some salvation i'd asked them politely four weeks in a row. four weeks. not to come given the weight of the television and the force it takes to separate the metal prongs from the plug-in i had to buy three zip ties thought of it late so i stopped at the drug store mellisa has almond eyes and large breasts a gold crucifix precariously tittering on the verge of suicide canyon since she turned nineteen i've joked about her cross to bear and every friday night a...

No longer let our voices fall to a whispering march of death. Jam your baritones and inflections through songs for a god gone dead Make the earth shudder under your footsteps as you let the wind take the pages like a flickering flame Make your presence known through the howling sleet and rain - scream in the faces of distorted kings, spit on their robes and shit in their eyes Cast your fury like the waves and witness the smoke of god vanish in the shadow of a cat, feast upon the words that wither like the grass Smear the self indulgent prophets in sweat and mud, drown the child of the Euphrates and piss on his holy stone Go horse in your burning wrath, sodomize wretched Isaiah, suffocate him in the wallowing tears of Job, let the blood of your hatred flow like wine Drink of your consummate supplication steeped in rage and disgust. Let it sustain you to shake the pillars and columns of his temple to the ground Dictate your commands and bask in the boundless power your existence brings t...

old translucent green pop bottles litter everywhere filled with flesh and tears and hate and love and guilt and joy and rage and pity and remorse hurling black rusted tire irons and crow bars green bottles scream and weep and laugh and vomit and defecate shattered shit frantically shards of green in the lawn on rainy days a naked body haphazardly lays bomb it all, break it all a frenzy of life lived is a garden of glass that cuts you deep it is never greener so lay and roll and bleed bleed deep

My roommate was nearly killed by a rusty muffler. My rusty muffler. It tumbled, and ricocheted off wet pavement right at her She laughed. Brought the broken pieces by hand, said I'd fix it someday Radio's never worked, orange lights illuminate buttons that have no use, they're pretty in the night reflections Broken knobs flick them on and off on and off on and off on and off Before my muffler's attempted murder a chorus of tired pistons, rubber belts, fluid cylinders, mechanical leavers and stuttering window wipers occupied the cabin hall Now there's only a rumbling to be heard beneath my feet, loudest in every gear rattling organs under thin layers of fat It chokes the need for talk We are taken by the roar from place to place, I flick the orange button lights on and off on and off on and off there's need to yell at times "stop it..." I follow the white lines with my eyes until home, the howling dies, our voices are left to fill the void We listen to ...

heavy legs, empty mind an incandescent bulb burns quietly three books open at random hundreds of pages unread already written rain, ice slush, days overlapping, gray sheets wrapping every awakening a life that's been emulsified thick and bland let the routine of breath begin again