We are still under the sky, In the guest room; Beast and cryptic. Everything crawls. A car flings us. I see one peeling The middle east. Down there, it’s still Exotic; an open sore, With a mule-cart Full of gold.
You might trace the eye-sockets of enemies settled in the folds; curious samples of feet – the duck or elephant tramping off the hem of the cliff. I loathe a modern home set to cream on cream; a sterile soap pinching corners; eyes have no place to comb. I like these […]
Exclusive Eyes The changes in the temperature when they walk into the room, my desires and my memories all hang upon a loom. Exclusive eyes they do not care for me, they see only beauty and it’s me they fail to see. their sepia gaze drawn down from a million nights as the […]
You exist in the poor length of my second toe, our lip and Irish eye that pinks upon the island air. I’m bored cleaning corpse from empirical floor. I pack jaws that don’t speak, at doors to centuries. Sing – give us wars that ring in your elbow, sting of injury, and porous […]
Will stay but not fight embarrassment in the lewd sun. Bring down infamous rain; the fingernail and the boot. I will sit here. Tender. But a still-life is a dead thing. I saw one sit and never breathe again. I paint corpses, apples and such, and the red ones […]