Evidence of Things Unseen

substance of my godhead
among other worlds
of free elections
my paranormal investigator
usually comes up dry
finger deep in the ink of
pretend freedoms
where this much is true:
change is independent from all of us
whichever Lionel Ritchie song
you land on the airwaves
to the tune of my own secret
soul secure below eardrum
not listening to the news

A Great View of Her Freudian Slip

i don’t know why you
took your promises that far
when mathematics tells
us a perfect out
northern state with it’s posts
where are the children
with my heart attack
this brooklyn sanitarium
another millionaire’s tales
of old loans
i’d say it’s in the interview
but i’ve lost the chronology
to the broken wall between
me and the kool-aid man

In Jersey, There’s No Such Thing as a Left Turn

he went out to the jungle
where all the monkeys
drive with centrifugal navigation
my county road
takes me across the tracks
i want a dark room
to rock autistically
not a taqueria
and come to the X
my copilot another
spanish character all together
hooked on the pilgrimage
in medieval literature
toward the false cups

Choices

shrieks of cauldron
mouths of first born
avow correspondence
from the arts of men
or war of arts
first neurosis
best neurosis
wait in the tall grass
my battle is the finale
in dream of stone
this mummified city
captive of sands
from its struggle with time
still it smiles

Adaptation

all the good conjugations
have been taken
as rolling exposition.
& decayed british matters
i read furniture
with silver era greek orthodoxies
the movie star, professor &
a bunch of italian names
flummoxed by ingredients
knee deep in the cauldron scene
to choose the good battle
is to know it’s a long war
and in someone else’s winter
keep warm by yourself

Travel Mouth

if he thought sales lingo
would have attended to sunrise
if you believe in fairies
angels from a world myth
all this way with lost rings
& a boyfriend from new jersey
not second marriage serious
but late and transcontinental
at the bed of the death goddess
overseeing this airframe in the rockies
preferable to new york in tourist season
eagle feather wiped across the face
of injury and in panic
forced to believe this damned song

My Year in Pictures

somehow the best day ever
one third into the Christie novel
to talk about each stranded in turn
around our necks this genre
rough-housing for lost time
a kid who runs crying
at the school assembly
may be my brother
then, i never smiled
to the tiny red lights
to a room of blurs
we hold up the monument
to see the inscription
void of all hope of recovery

Big Sky Sonnet

everything's bigger
in exageration this sky
all bumpy drifts
this ocean of snow
far above in quiet wind
that escapes hell gate
without conversation
when the late sun rises
at out first look
dragon's breath streams the valley
half saying things
around the summer carousel
keep returning
until we can finish

in montana.
on blog hiatus until next week.

Stays in the Car

everyman's frank sinatra
& we were still freinds
come for confrontation
stars of kansas out
in the big break up
everyone accepts his oscar
& makes big love gestures
aloud in long stretches
every pony needs a name
& mine is rocinante
convinced when
he talks to himself
i believe
i chase ogres

If it Weren't for Those Meddling Kids

as if unmasked bankers
can bet the farm
i inhabit the carnival
because i enjoy mirrors
& the sound of pipeorgans
down in my hideout
in love with my moustache
a big claude rains rouse
all shadows and sepia
humming the marsaille
& other overused sound tracks
to the average movie goer
i say it's to blend in but
they all notice me hiding