abstract untitled

etch away
a constant check--connect--disassemble
divide

looking for ---- ----(blank space) to live by


tied to a cross constructed of selection---choice--what song to sing today
lament and grow old--
a pair sitting in a tree too meek to see the space
sucking gasping rasping between (what is youth

distance not measured with words nor road but with silence -- understanding
and obscured sense

hotel window morning

paled in winter white sheets
some strum of affection gone astray --- weakness obeserved in low lit bars
where circles ring the eyes of strange selves

leveled into sleep lulled into deep cold
unraveling

and soon naked touch --- picked her up --- unfamiliar eye-dreams --
said without schemes its only a small cut --not much blood but in breath and bed

erase-- identify momentary thief --recede concede giving all to shallow grounds on bent knees

and pray

that it'll happen again

damning memory to hell fire brim knowing it is that "I" that everyone speaks about
revered by scorching tongue backlash and sink into curtains
knowing influence finite pain unidentified
only to forget

a city exists built by hands and sweat and fame is only around the corner next to anonymity
broken church bells and frayed flags ring courtships cut lawns and songs
we the people move grim notions around exchange current-sea for land
the debts unknown too much for too little in short lives lived hard and fast

sudden breath
shielded by foreign sweat while the sun rise brings new sides to dream
while this tide is to low back gone -- a fresh sin
never saw her like that again --- on the corner --- her breath borrowed and visible
and in that moment ----- isolation

------------------------------------ - again a good friend

DC: tired impression

tethered windows
eye socket jam(med packed with movement sins--pilled out on glass buildings and trains

spotting saviorlord in homeless reflections--
a token pass to blindness and faith
point to point ---------- i think Moholy Nagy would like this place--- though it's industry is hardly a place of safe


betting

collaboration

smeared across crooked frames

--------- left --------------- - -- in dust to dust fever

good fortune gone askew --- -- with no more words for the merry

2:30

scraping the day from my skin
a testament to how slow progress is (or passion

digging palms white into eyes red
picking out ruined voice -- vocal chords tense dark strings of given-up sound

those earlier screams are lost in broken playgrounds --- broken lines and tense presentation

braided into the day is an overlapping sense of filtered reality ------- mouth inside-
out---of the body springs a well
largely held by a flow of remorse
gathered in a bundle of throw away--

drinking process - pure movement of purpose delayed

(tar jerked and feathered in the street)
waters are level with the ground and rising

life now holds a mandatory tithing (10% of your time of your thoughts of your crimes of your sound reserved for kiss) bent
on only the best exchange
salvation made with full-length mirror vanity and veins (circulating towards another day

weakened by present resentment untold victory of isolation
pursed lips and sullied sentiment

see you on the flip side

look--
darkly scanning roadsides as to why --- this predatory disposition
illuminated by predilections -- thinking the flow won't go too far out of reach
well hell- our seldom keeping secrets is admirable made by distance

(time machines backandforthbackandforth)

sticking fists forth into the air and demanding clarity standstill brevity

grieve sieve and sift through the behavioral calamity
shams blanket anonymity ---------- and we our without our vises stooped over
mass graves written on papered expectations

flushed skin blushed organs --- where is sex in all this mess --------- scratch that

--------- where is love --bending backwards on the wayside a mutual agreement met
for in house service and partnership ------- --- who cares about roaming eyes -the bump and grind of daylight savings time

our ship is sinking fast and death doesn't wait
for green lights but teeters on the withered yellowed branches of weeping trees sunken in the sides of dry urban legends lost in gritty bars---a constellation of stars complex against the stage where noise stands and the decision of sound lives up to it's many names

my muse


where are you walking now - - - - -- - - - - - - - -- - what is this cruel city that tangles my feet in roots buried below the paved broken streets

what is this place i recognize so well against dark nature?
(great eternal couch)---
even published thoughts perish in the deep recesses of sleep

so full of shot (the body's mind rot)

this thing
this back is stitched up---

kneeling

d
o
w
now - - look

- - - we are space

held loose(ly to-get-her -gathered in the arms of another invisible
un-divisible force



- - - six feet under grounds

- - - -cold right down to skeletal mounds



do you hear fossils forming