cruise-ship-bow

Beasts of prey inside a gurning poem
into the last vision of hope at 8am, burning, burning, burning
numb rays of sharp suits and flirts with summer
and the British war of melancholic beers and banter
half the world’s words written sober
the rest ripped off by flesh & bomb junkies

Each fox creates a religion in the gutter
each couple eloping from fear best set to thrive
the hologramatic shivers of porcelain rain
bust open the rib-cage showing a heart to the storm
the castaway glance of a smiling dog
more than the lie of any news report

The line between summer and winter is tonight
its separate grace enough to charm lightening
the empty blue streets are not warm or cold
and dusk is elsewhere in time, melting limb by limb
hanging against a wall and dancing
rose, scythe, peace, and water

Names in the mist forgetting themselves
swaying in baths of calm organic storm
beyond and by, still and somber soil, where hell has no bones
better than ours waking, to savage a toothless broadcast
like an Autumn binge that remembers its blood
saying farewell to dullard calls

Saying, let each season binge, let each carrion smile
sway in the opera of sweat, and nothing flies without fire
that lunatic grace below the river
that only place beyond our eyes made from life
that reflects in yours as it does mine
that lucid shatter of time

Keep on lighting the shadows
Keep on dancing with gravity
Keep on sleeping it off
Keep on naming each animal
Keep on exclaiming comatose:
we are not here at all, if not occasionally savage

I would rather hear the music
than the wailing corpse of sermons
show me the courtiers slur against the night
and the sun cracking its knuckles
each pop an orchid in the dust
as simple as the street turning over, throwing neon back to Pluto

Rising then flooring bouts of cat calls write
lusty faces on a flat script act
the other gallows are picked up later
Dante falls into a book of thighs
each destination burnt and growing
heading home head down and howling!

By and by a city of poems
our several hearts enough for the universe to roll
each brick covered by flesh
and each of our mouths unsettling tomorrow & before
wandering down to the silence of rhythm
our scents unite the present

There’s a Vitruvian lad laughing
There’s a Vitruvian lass laughing too
and sometimes when the day isn’t moving
i ask them when their strings were cut
they never answer, just laugh at my sweat
half a second before, a blade cuts mine

Decadence screams with poppy eyes
scattered among the fields of fate
the embassies of glassy, boozy, fearing, loving, and welcoming
fractions, of life in the rain collecting
back to the populace in bits
last days of a winter month, and cicadas made from tsunami

A black waiter, my face in the sun
a silver tray made from sand and work
and the forgotten need for reflection
since my brother is untamed
my sister is lewd
and only we have the manners of a waltz

There’s an open sky of trails
it’s up to us if we want to see concords leading birds
or slow balloons with figures like drunk models
in the end, each moment is a passage
the doors are steely to most, chaos even…
then other days, Geiger, Bowie, and Dali, all take a Roman bath together

Unlike the notes of an unemployed hand
under a tree, at a park bench, 12, 1am, all of them
by a black river that sings like communion
pen moving with a rorschach belch, raining heavy
a car with pissed light beckoning me over in the car park
some girl taking joy from two in masks, i decide to leave…

And in the walk back from tomorrow, my right calf goes
i’ve been hitting the rope in the evening
just love the sound of the thing, it becomes so fast, you
cross your arms, dance in a bad lit garage, whip from left to right
whip whip whip, all of your pours, poems, bursting
left calf goes, my body says: day off brother

Single eyed felidae staring in
the morning, glassy pale yellow heart
maybe one year old or so without a collar and
my Grandma says, through the window: yes
we’ve spoken, she can’t be more than a year
old, hope, she’s fixed up

We go to work with fresh mystery in our minds
until we arrive, and hope there’s a nightmare to reverse life
any will do, an attack from God to make us dream again
our manager singing drunk reminiscing later
then the life in-between, stealing the chariot
or shaking you loose from delirium saying: burn the decay lover

After the warmth of art comes morning
my girl only knows thirty degree winters
so, i listen to only those, when the mornings here cut my throat
and my memories are blunt razors
halloween inside a christmas applause
and the only truth is us

The mausoleums end when the sky pours the wine of our days won
and in the dimming chorus of my second best job, I catch fire, and go!
then walking by another station under a bridge, dozens of workers, buried
no better off than i and reverse, so i do it: walk in reverse that is…
whilst it rains… can’t resist it… the beggars the fleas the kings
thy rapture in thy truly grail of holy light, we’ve all signed a shadow with steam before

I don’t know what’s caught my limbs today, perhaps a way
to repel the ugliness, and dance, and call you, and say hey: see you soon love
see you when i am not an ape, see you when i am not here and
you look better than a steak in a hangman’s dream
and only the ghost of my civility remains, and then there
you will not know me, anymore

Half of my head slips down some iron stairs
came back early and decided my next door’s vodka appeals
more to the snakes in my tattoos, more to the music than rent
and then years on i decipher the flesh, split open a stella by another moon
feel my face, feel this scar and that
and see that my empty flat is filling

I toast a last one a few years ahead, and ask the night:
where shall we go on this fuel? And find the slightest jest
in the slightest shadow
the train makes my bed ricochet in darkness
my blood makes my blood laugh
and in the early day, my calf is still playing up, so I say, come on fella:

Time for training old man
break all echoes
wrap sea around your knuckles
dismiss all shadow
bring on all storm
one more dance forever, until the day you depart.

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