Archive for March, 2011

Perspective Cracks

Goat sneaks back through the glass its been grazing on paint on billygoat beard and camera film and picasso’s arm can’t stop dancing. *** “How long’s it been?” “5 hours” Renoir cinematographs “You’re doing great.” *** At the brushtip the bull always wins, the blood can’t be painted, but is, and before it’s genius, it’s [ READ MORE ]

States of Wear

His mind can’t speak to him wicker cage body broken in to, like a mineshaft collapsed– bird-free. The man is made of sticks, girl, blow, blow, blow smoke him holey-less. Eventually, recede into a dune of ground glass, a beach you’d drink to the bottom, if you were thirsty enough to drown yourself[ READ MORE ]

Paintings, Stacked

I don’t say anything when I speak to myself. Just stand still in between dreams–holding photos by the edges of fingers, notebook pages–crawled over by ink insects, leaving wing-prints. In dim, before spring, light lapping trees twirl up from the ground revealing themselves to be vines. Fingers reach out at a heaving sky but clouds [ READ MORE ]

Crib Death

You are dependent. An addict unfixed but still stuck, expectant. Obsessed with knowing yourself is so close to knowing. You think “As long as I have eyes, I can smile, face the world with open windows.” But beauty is not happiness– Try to see this. Think you can save yourself from high school? Tie your [ READ MORE ]

Rites of Richard Francis Burton

My wife held me. I cried, “My god I am a dead man!” The black camel outside my tent in the desert, outside my house in Trieste, finally saw me. God stood over me with forked beard and iron cane, said, “You owe for the flesh, not to mention the spirit.” He poked me in [ READ MORE ]

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