An orange powdered face
Beneath crescent eyelids
Gently quivers
Above pushed words

Dun tresses in a blue cap
Tickets please
Sliding into her fingertips
Snip snip.

Rainbow wood: creeping yellow
Mold and white nets of mildew;
Soft thin pliant brown-white
Striped ears of flesh poking out

A world of grayblue
Yoked to the window,

Stained glass wall
Hee hee hih hee
Sissss tangtang tang


Blink of eyes: liquid hot
Drop of eyes.

Elbow kicks back
Elbow back in place
Nice tight black sweater on.


Warped and coiled
See them all
I am smeared across this
Line of air.

Things things things
Unwattled facts.

Knocking and tumbling
In the blue of my pupil
All there

Almost bunned,
Pushing down the top
Kneading through
Tight hair.


Fading, gone
Ocean breezes, along
Winding road, crooked, free
Branches on the trees

Hello face,
Hello eyes
Hello space
Hello time.

World past
A face in the mirror.


Fragment. Walk .3 miles
Ring 3L or call the
Captain. Find bar. Kill time.
Man hunched over rubs his temple.


Tenders voice rolling and falling
Knuckles on glass and easy spirit
Dim ruby glow from the back
Petals dark. Jacaranda, hyacinth.

Gleaming eyes
A picture
An eight page essay.


Vivid hallucinations
Preceding sleep
Andrew red eye blinking
Voyager listening.

Dark projected stars
On the wall
Dry languages
Of the world: limp race.

Outer space words
Your heart is a universe
Into a locked loft.


Wavering in and out
And wavering out and in
LI: slow, deliberate
Fresh, thumped up, books.


h. h. h. h. h. h.

She is one
For me
Work alone
Crack sordid past.

Agenbyte, inwit

Moorin Poems

Rising nineteen different ways in nineteen different countries
With my feet towards the sun of Aurora borealis
With my heart aligned with my brain and
Lymph circulating throughout my chest

Today is going to be a good day in Africa
in China
in Paris
in the United States

I heard all about it on the tv news
How Elvis sang the blues
And we ripped up newspapers
Using them to start fires

The acrid smoke wafted down the
Street we rand down:
Teal Lane, Oviparous, Venereal disease
And bits and flecks of summer cooling

Blame it all on the
Mushroom cloud
Rising up
To heaven..,

Continued in Birdland


La la la – la la la
Doop boo bop doop dee     flah
So long now
In tire five

You raw lines you pink bones
Each a home
All alone
Tell a gnome

I’m in the zone like Nina Simone
Doop doop da: like the moon on her throne
In the lake
On fire

We just croak and let days go by
We don’t care about the robot
We just smoke and let days roll by
We don’t care about Facebook

Open your eyes on a dim hot soul
Lounging in fire in earth are my bones
Writing past the grave emptily
Showing 2 figures with Humpty Dumpty
La la la  la la la la MUISicNote

The Mycelium of Dawn

Arising from nothing
With a sour taste in my mouth
And pale squares of light on the wall
The clock in the kitchen ticking
Snoring from the couch
And a whisker in the cakey powder of pancake mix.

Snatches of dreams flit back like birds.

Time’s wan ghosts: numbers of the digital clock
The heater crinkling alive
Flood of lamplight
A yard glowing in the wooded dark.

Senses sharpened: the brain of night slowly flickering out,

Glass rose, glass vase.

Strange world of dreams, appear!

Brakelights streak through the dark.

Linear time: record viewing party: that is assuming: bursts of unfocused thought.

His burly arms are crossed in sleep
A morning walk to awaken the senses
Yogurt finished: candy-sweet, gunk.

A dream returns: a classroom dispute, watching as spikes of red and black water ooze out the base of a windmill:

“I object. I would sooner call this effluvia than runoff. The latter implies natural means working towards natural ends. But here we see the water is sliced, polluted, and discarded.”

Silent affirmation of point.

Morning glowing planet: Venus?
The glitter of frost on the grass
Light pouring out a house
Rumble of train
A spotlight on a tree

The cold air prancing
Two middens of dirt stacked in a backyard
She jogs the garbage pail to the road, jogs back through the cold swinging her hands Two birds wing through the gradually glowing sky
A bus glides to the end of the road, stopping, slowly turning right.