Have this in your hand
your smoky screened
vest of streams
wet with wonder land
...
Obsession
over bright sky-blue eyes.
not actually like.
Just queer feeling that
...
If my eyes were open
I would see friendly faces
faces of friends
If my eyes were open
...
Waiting for the eagle
I don't see how patience
so still, so quiet,
can live.
...
You charlatan,
who whistles so sweetly when nobody’s there.
You charlatan,
just let them come to you, don’t even glance.
...
Biting wind corroding my skin,
It inks my face
Blackening to a glow
...
I stared at myself
wondering what was there
wondering what could be there
wondering what others saw
...
Don't you understand?
With swaying tendrils of luminescent brown-
the strands that surround her head
She puckers her lips and blows a kiss
...
It was a duller, cooler color than what they wanted to believe.
His corrugated skin
The east sun
stretched
...
You look into his eyes
and you (slowly) see that
your truths are failing
your notions of jesuit
...
Watch the white wheels turn, as the silent waiters
Keep the cat bites on her cold skin covered.
The girl has been given a destiny, gone
Like the light that lifted the sun’s rays onto
...
Cages glint in the light, bright.
Fear presses at your bones.
...
Waves
crashing down upon the sand, never letting up
So hypnotizing, so mesmerizing
...
By spinning hitherto the miles of tedious tirades;
Suffering the delations and kickshaws of the simple;
I feel the rest of the fast must come to me after awaited
For centuries. So, as I tell you now,
...
...
Have this in your hand
your smoky screened
vest of streams
wet with wonder land
the great tears of books
broken when the clock
struck nine, and then did
spook the sea.
I want this caption of yours
which the old do behold
as the salvation to their tired
losing fiends, To kill this
wood and drink
the juices of the black
stool
stool
to sit on this one way
is to sit with pit on your
spit which is wet some day
Let's eat with scorn
but no one red with
beds of lead
can read the capting
schools of the dead