Visceral Phantasma

Neighbors of shit, death and hate

Playing with words like dirt

writing to a new place

swimming to a new place

through roadways filled with mud

and soft silent admonishment

from ghosts and mothers and drugs

(the moon rises over the dark hills)

Enthrallment from sharp cognitive sound

and a mordant abbreviation swirled with

internal televised selves

and spread over the tracks, spaced out over the vision

and opened to the velvet gloves of mimetic monsters

riding high in the limousines

pulling strings of lucre screaming

(the water flows and gurgles throughout the night)

Into the arms of Morpheus a smoky rain beckons

falling into the fresh and virginal locus unknown

a place disentangled from demon grid, stuporific & cut unkind

through and away from field and fences and the ego pushing tongue of vanity

gone away from the unwatched mind of myriad insignificant victims, raped by fat

(the wind blows leaves out of the tree)

The lord of the river purrs invisible shadow, a net of jeweled mirrors

while skull trucks and the wall of fear resist loves summon

all the while raging and poisoning and cutting

away, away the inevitable crackling roots &

the slow serpentine growth of her subtle immense persistence

victorious & eternal

(the red line of lava flows silently down the mountain)

Pathways enduring through heaven and hell

breaking down the self’s assuredness and conviction

faith and belief, like the melting snow

like the raw flesh held wounded with nails to wood

or a wheel in a war zone spinning after the bomb &

crying tears into a chalice floating in paint

(the sea moves and heaves and waves endlessly)

Oh pointless meaningless utterance I adore thee

like a vast conflagration of self gratification

you are untouchable and turning the graves

turning the burning pyres of the last wanton angels

into freedom & bliss & succor

and their inexorable grace becomes an intense salient evocation

of diamonds numbing the wordless spirit herein

(the rain falls onto the grass)

Passing through flesh

True absence and love and fallen

wings over the wind broken tumble

of this one thing unknown

Her hair golden and the crest

of passion before vast nature of

rivers deep & carved canyons

moving

running through life without

leaf or goal or future want

Seeing only the road spilled

before thee like blood

sand in the hand

never ending cistern

holy and empty of effort

Written in sky and thunder

written with the night eye

words of dust dirt and wonder

create me beautiful time

angels sing my song

each moment peeled and passing

and faded and gone

before the light and inside it was god

beyond thought

 Hymn to Allen Ginsberg

Weather the combs can balk or talk or fly back up and around this weak flesh going further into the desert flower star of late Junes speeding road delight or towards heavens final hour as the cocks blow and these days are now remembered by the bullet by the distant phone by the locked heart box of mothers shadow dipping her ladle of tears, spreading a milk of dream stars with powdered golden dust left out to sing like a gunshot spreading

And the thrill of speeding high spread tires shining across microcosmic gasps of ant canyons and mathematical values lost to mental word spins covering up the sum covering up the seed of divine infinite empyrean of electron sunsets slipping over the waves of color and limited boundaries of the flaming word the burning bush the sinning girl calling to your exposed free and open flesh shooting hot while time jams the nut of expression

Too work for it anyway without regard to the cliff the fall the drop and inevitable ending to your rush of blood like water blitzing away in the day in the center in the pole unmoving like a mandala awoken in the dream of an old man while everyone lives and gives in mundane vacant voids blank and staring rehashing the repeating government nozzle aimed at your brain neurons scamming the new satanic fate inescapable

Except it isn't wasn't won’t ever be but a page to pull away and crumple the ugly bags glowing and heaving and burning breath goggles under the ramp of dignified mud dignified dust recycled atoms of endless beautiful human interfaces expressing towards lean dazed and pain free molds holding over that hum they hear humming within a working script bleakly pining for its sweet immaterial paradise its clean bell shaped desert crescent

So in closing the bards and gods and sweet young innocent gays writing in time to me and I to you and out farther than either of us can crawl or throw or imagine like laughter and a thousand tears a trillion stars and souls watching unconditionally rolling down its silken cheeks to bare its radiant breast to radiate its white light and carve the words of gratitude in the stone in the endless neon pulse of eternal freedom is always free motherfucker

Driving winds

Spit into his own dust, he rang true    

not noticing anything, no longer noticing you

only the flow, until the awareness of it stop’s it cold

and the wanting back in it, the desire for it

keep’s it out

broken mountains, don’t need no stinking rules

jagged aloneness, mating the bad weather nobody braves

            but always plan to one of these days

crust of the wind and flesh of the melting sea

this merciless unnamed shadow       

this forgotten unthing

it laps the tissue of earth everyday, every damn day

from here I stand to back yesterday’s in a line so long, so crazy long

            we get sick in it, we die in it, and nothing need make sense

swirling about it, stringing it along

living  it living us down deep, down deep in the black of the crystal heat

the cammeleon beating the grass and dandelions to break the street,

            to crack the sidewalk, slowly, slowly

everyday while nobody is looking

beating the ice to crack the walls

beating the rot to eat the wood

slowly, slowly, while nobody sees

and it adds up the times to sand it

to lay sand on it, to fall, to fade

to whither and blow the dead end days full of sand on it

broken plastic and glass, bits of teeth

decay of the stars, blown like sand