BORED GAME

those teeth they keep

in there

seem so important

they must be saddened

by the abundance of smiles

forgotten

all the meals

chewed

without real hunger

*

everybody finds corruption

deplorable

before they have a go at it

the call for solidarity

is a circus act

followed

by selflessness

and dying promises

*

they speak of the mungoose

and the cobra

but not for long

somewhere in the oceans

now

a plastic bag

is patiently subduing

a manta ray

FIRST NIGHT OF THE EARTH POEM

ashamed i am to approach you like this / this my moon courting you to create a crater / 

i seem to have no choice / but to begin in that crater / to spell out desire in dusty window 

panes of cars i fight not to imagine / in the beginning there were no riots / societies wisely

not figured out yet / not so by choice / distance determined our calm / i do not know when

i began longing for you / it could be now / when we have begun / as more than thought

and you as mine / this for real / must be lava / never / bargain continents / and shuffled like 

bodies in dissipating orgies / towards the exits / towards lusts to cancel out lust / and sleep

devoid of mystery / and sleep at all / landscapes and oceans tooth paste-covered / and kissing /

with joined fists / lips of original dust /

HATE MAKES ME CRY

you pull me out the forest      but i am not dead     i am not dead      just lonely 

when you hold me      because i remember how i must try      to be alone

again

and bodies      they are not mine     i return to them as if they were     as if

we had sagas      unwritten     between these sheets     of temporary doom

and holy hallways 

of what could have been bibles      and toras      if our disciples

were paying attention      and would remember
how living a good life      is the best revenge of all      (although watching
someone you hate      bleed from the ass     is a good number two)
and stayed away from      everyone      who would ask them
to stay away from things      because they fear that love     is a commodity
that will be driven out of the ground     like oil     until it is gone     instead
of seeing      it as a bunch of trinkets      sold in your life     the cheap
antique store      where they are devalued     over the years

HUMBUGGERY OF INTENT

it is how

everything will be won in the end

a steel worm

rising like a trained socialite

to conquer all parties

and never abdicate

bloodshed yes, of course

but not the murderous kind

the end of scams

miss spaceage caveboy: too good for blowjobs and mystery

billboards interpreted by wanting-to-be-disappointed masses

closing in on loss, words

handshakes and namesakes, fame claimed

c-prints rotting in digital tombs