Duck Season

if we may suggest summer reading
this isn’t just paranoia
in the slightest of hands
white lies & rhetoric elect
& still cities blow apart
my righteous anxiety
it’s true in the west they made logic
reasonably to cry out war
just listen to the force of nature
those tits are dangerous
listen or they just may foul you
peace or no they hide in your eyes
back in places you are afraid
to know it is you who are hunted

Honeymoon Registry

the manifest point of sex
reversible in gender
moves the mechanicals
play within our hostilities
like roses in suites
close as it gets to climax
this is a back highway
& i am finally night
for your predilections
senses & sensors cause elision
mouth sentences all at once
without actually happening
constant references to stars
for accuracy more than astrology

Rabbit Season

my blood causes terror
two, three generations removed
the day i see cease fire
perhaps ghosts will speak originally
but this deity of race & destiny
stuck in latin conjugates
wrote no word for profiling
only of the hunt & prey
my scared little bunny
these are streets of vision
of the never setting sun
where we can see you are innocent
so sorry old chap but the hounds
are barking so the chase is on

Song of Me & Hutch

born to take this seriously
i crossed these states, too
with the god of borderlands
unpricked by your needs
both skins broken with difference
to count winters
i have left our marks
your story this third
of reasonability and continuance
come to think of aging processes
the sun goes wherever
it goes when we are hidden
from the face of fallen brothers
in far too many of these endings

My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean

perhaps streetwise to touch of hands
true animals in suburban clothing
this is america of documentary
keeping my brother from faces
dab crowds in dark water color
keeping the twenties
in constant repair of vision
these stones told the first stories
they are now for soup
feast days that end the fast
rusts like irony with youth
when christians are at the gates
that eat the young of the unfaithful
we are hip to even the best excuses

In the Dentist’s Chair

take your sundays where you can
ridiculous names in memory
can turn the guide southwards
but a real, incomprehensible retort
as fast as rumors go
this is not erotic language
but shifty eyes and spontaneous search
cut a figure not a swimmers build
long stayed in youthful places
if this is just fantasy recapitulated
easy enough to get around
that impulse lonely in victorian light
the author remains in mind
and so i can use none of this

Nice Shoes

real gamble is out of the gate
heels a-blazing for arrows
your sleeves the stuff
of sport analogies & fifteen
second public radio spots
once murky & human this story
twists in our ribcages
at once knives & better
cautionary tales untold
for treaties & civil discussion
mouths shut out of long rides
to repeat all of three years
you have to believe it
& break your own vow

Kansas, She Says, is the Name of that Star

in our system of relation
a fraternity of witness
cracking just before perfect storms
i'm in all of the Cusak films
boxing through midnights
that might as well be rained on
by one eye movement
off from the full recitation
never home but in technicolor
nothing happens all over
in new fictions they pass along
one to help it go down
one to explain the next morning
it must have been the wind

Splinter Faction

invisible does not die
in the new affairs of hatred
only born again to judge
this park with trees on fire
i plan my escape
deeply bruised by chairs
in the way of true marriage
our underworld grows
where we are sepia toned
& learn to play with tommy guns
i wish for super powers instead
one prayer unanswered
again in the crutch of incident
shaking with blame

7/4/05

after Ginsberg

America, in the 1400’s something troubling happened
i thought we’d come to an understanding
but my phone keeps ringing with your bill collectors
i thought you’d remember once rising up
in streets you’ve already bombed & repaired
even your polite neighbors chant racist slogans
when its victims aren’t in their backyard
i remember reading your good ideas
but everyone is left behind with your god
in front of ugly mobs that scream for blood
bordergaurds lynchmobs cupacabras promisekeepers
somebody wrote you from prison
this is not going to get violent but just listen
we are too many voices for you to drown out with gunfire

Having Re-Redesposed of the Monster...

i sing the song backwards
& represent the giant killer
who in infancy repels snakes
spits alchohol to the ground
a hero rebukes legal fees
in the times we walk side by
eachother with war ponies
in that charge past our hill
our hands most sacred painted
handes as they circles the heart
the path of the wagon trains
this paper of relations burns
chains into a cool night upwards
& sits silent in full lotus


Happy Divorce, Brahm!