ORINOCO BLOWS

he took the animal running to the edge / saw it start again / and had nostalgia turn into parameter recordable for eyes / all those bugs to eat / never inquire who else had eyes and glanced back / drifting to cross over / humdrum characters reinvented, pretty figurines on skeletal fireplace / heads, half belonging to bodies lugged or lugging / breaks, chewing gum / remembering books during conversation, reestablishing need of words so as to welcome the death of the medium, me-to-you kinda thing / what else: density of unspoken bodies, this guy or the next travelling your (mine) borderless plains / headhunters of the real, the verisimilarity [UFO to shameless past leaving in 8 minutes, teeth] of left chicken houses, right? / this plane or the next, when will you finally touch me, and have touch in return, like guarantee / hand me down the instruments of a cleaner chaos, like birds making love in this one, or the next one of someones ultimately best or worst poem? crime, they must write, because they think of laws. 

HEAD ON NORTH OF THE COMPASS

trending the obvious, bow and arrow

odysseus' ship hashtagged, tornadoes of meaning

comfy, this television set where everything is

said, and belongs to reality too, my

opinions; sad waffles

hurried

through the afterlife

so that i could share with you the comfortable nothing of which i know

new hemispheres now

and all them jesuses

still chewing on umbilical chords

MEMWARS

that monstrosity of a gameshow: hidden prizes, jewels - geometrically flawed - in inner television terrariums

jet streams of blood upsetting your cranky fuselage

hedonism, no actors: "here be normality"

onslaught of sweets and cuddly cozy, your back against a piece of bread, smear

liquify the experience, holy tombstone, lucretia borgia smörgåsbord

give phantom head just

as poussin senses bacon's longing for the best cry in the history of painting

and paints the best cry in the history of painting

and eisenstein too

then bacon

continuing the development of that already perfectly ornate carnage

by painting the best cry in the history of painting

and then the photographs, and some more holy onlooking, and your parapet gaze, valet parked in the unread book of surprise

hoodlumed into submission, keys rattling in your very large pocket

before astonishment

and that thing opposite of oblivion 

TREATHES

who kills nightmares

god kills nightmares

god is alcohol

who lives by the river

god lives by the river

god is destruction

who inherits the mountains

god inherits the mountains

god is taxation

god takes care of you

who wrote the bible

god is l ron hubbard

god smells fear

who eats chicken

god is the makeshift avantgarde

god provides those services

god is the fixer

who knows not of himself

god is continuous peace

god is emblazoned as both snake and city

god is history's total lack of irony