Invisible Machine

for B

this is the hush of spanish mimes
protests in form of questions
this helmet spares the inventor
could be a war relic
facial tic of ill fit memory
placed by conquistadors before prey
time was the element of fiction
that circled this dream of population
control that dissolved in the poem
this is an illusionist’s diagram
that offers the real candy
importance of zen searches
this is the magic feather
it is enlightened by proximity

Men on the Corner

in Mao’s four minutes
it was conceived & written
any statement that ends
with ‘know what i mean?”
is suddenly double entendre
that’s a philosophy
when she asks survival questions
that trumps our trivia
nostalgia of century’s silver age
our teenage novels condense
hustles divisions of labor
when i grow up
i’ll speak in iambs
did i just threaten myself?

We Are All Frozen

we’ve all seen the millennium
idolatry of conversation
of ghosts we have in common
when you’ve made other plans
you must enter community
their voice, originally howls
this is the reflex of nighttime
crawl into one another’s version
safely carries with it paper lanterns
you light across my river
in contract these brief silences
rest of the day is this wait
what goes up must
breath itself into waking

Over Hire

Friction is gravity’s hot red-headed cousin.
-Syd

She’s perfect to learn on
enough for this government work
all legs, labor & broken props
in a glossary of char women
just enough of the bad crazy
or a second set of eyes
to make the frog sing
or at least this is my fear
fathered & over voiced
this injury of purpose
loving a joined plan
can be the decade of adolescence
easy like, well, like some common day off
like the rest of the world suddenly complies

The Schukyll Punch

old white men who grieve
this parentage of electricity
ritual struggles of sink & swim
subtle circuitry from greek masons
with colonnades & ramparts &
life in the time of justice
great ceasar’s ghost
we come to not to rechristen
but to catalogue fictitious words
in action of my colleagues
phoned in out to commit
big words and sweet science
this is the name of industry
we choose to participate

Long Story Short

all needs are in three categories:
things i want, things others want
& things i want others to do to me
draw focus from singing of sight lines
leaves only cracked excursions
one night of impersonal explosion
singly occurs on my manners & whispers
then useless gossip, my bridal
withholds safest confidence
of decisive or derisive directions
in this alone to the better end
of erasure on this good road
reasons are shards of green glass
in the pattern of this truest exit

False Wood

but an expensive piece of luggage
credits you with its destination
for people with unfortunate names
unworldly favors leave this rivalry
of intelligent design harkens
my bookthumpers dark age
to sit on this one shelf
these trophies of the hunt
corpsed by the suggestion
always a man, abominably
promoted beyond our means
in the manner of countryfolk
amusement at my register
we have both kinds of music here

Story: shaft of light

twelve thirty seven monologues
shape of plate and melonballer
funny surmises at my signals
spent oranges or reductions
this minor character statistic
of intrigue & eros ethically
suspended from practice or experience
that room just before nine
morning language of closed doors
in a second, wait for a call
sketches from stage entrances
cups close together sideways
withdraw the trash bag
would he like it