masthead
home news store events about tweak job

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

I dwell in the road to the sea everyone travels and dwell in your house preparing to haunt you if I’m not doing much later and dwell on your face and if you don’t aggrieve me I or my daughters might could come back

I dwell in the road to the sea everyone travels and dwell in your house preparing to haunt you if I’m not doing much later and dwell on your face and if you don’t aggrieve me I or my daughters might could come back 


When you go to the door to Nadja’s house also / my house of course / guarded
by a seabird who doesn’t stop for pain heats fire rocks and trash dugout / drop
into your gut, a cooked meal that bakes you and tells each blind a holy hide

or

a nightbird cocks the moon until it's soft shoots / it into you a syringe mouthed
and glistening jelly moon potion shot into your coal chute, to your / heart like
a bubble. A songbird stacking sand for notes taking / notes flushed countenance 
says to bird: this guy's wreck and mealsome. Says garbage like a chime
that brings / brings, bearings, rings, all the birds to the yard, I won't / go down 
when you come / on my face guarded door where I keep time. I keep time
lashed bad daughter and trade her for my body-daughter / standing in the ditch
by the road to the sea everyone travels I don’t want her to obey you
and I don’t / want her / to obey me. I want her like a bad daughter all legs 
climbing out of the squabble oven over the crust of a crater bored into earth
do not bore my daughter

or

she will flay you. She spools a strip of time the poisoned peel she doesn’t eat it 
wiser than I at her age, by her age I / had a husband / had to spit a red mouthful 
at his guests’ feet. My chores included serving his guests my unguarded smile and 
ungirding my hospitality, without enjoying the congress or its session, I hid / wore 
war my knees but not for him lace habit / in this shaft of time I’m laced in / perma 
revolution to my daughters, to my bad habits in everyday this belief that pain
my greedy hold on time’s meal core. Slowcore sadcore revolve of flesh that can’t 
keep juice turns rugged and greasy / venison double fisting antler and throat

or

leather, game, falls back in the sand / if you don’t want to go to the underworld
go underwater and no hot god will fool you. Go deep out in salt laters
where the ribbed gown sea tides salt stiff, white, bridal habit / you call out nun
or acolyte, you call / them daughters and they turn off their phones. / I can’t 
remember how men got my number after I gave it up on a makeshift alter, alter
it up / on my knees dull classic but you encounter / the ropes say the grace
of each knot / forbid

beautiful images line up for record and by the time their turn’s to come
beauty’s convulsions give over to something we don’t recognize

or
fertile sound of wave that carries wreck on rock, irritating your ear where birds
wheel too close by checking you for doneness / done in this / give up
or

I don't want this for you I wanted to give you sight thru a new lens / mine drilled 
cut deep absorbing / you bathing, unusual visage from the rocks, I observe
your flesh / before all birds, splintered vessels, and rusted shafts / were my face 
opening against / your dryfire skin and the refraction of salt infinite crystal patina 
auric from any angle we were / in it and I / had my arm out coated in raw jewels 
pulsing with favor humming your favorite not too worried who has frankincense 
or benzoin out here on the weary hippie road / reserve sage verbena hardy mint 
lavenders none longing sticky in your crook / shush 

or

if you don’t want to go to the underworld go out to the desert don’t look / look
like that / look back at me. Your eyes smoked four nights a crystal sewn deep
in the mountain’s hot thigh. I get a beak for a needle and tear out the stitches
what the fuck happened to you I thought you were born. I thought we were / on 
earth I thought this must be the place, but it had a false pedestal, a hollow shaft
through which time / the holler behind my face, guarded by you know, guarded

or
so fucking many winged wheels of fortune bearing each the premonition
of its relic body and maybe / mine / own death and handler thereafter / you
don’t get to die and lie down, you get to be ravaged again by the holy hospital

or

salt and dirt dug deep up loosed to the murder wind was just feeling up 
some other / person put your skin against mine and teach me the true fact
of hugging let me know / no show me how it’s okay to have run the length
of the road to the sea / time and then the length of your body my arms / restrained 
against the ground perform for me the embrace so I don’t / break it. Break against 
this shaft. And down this astonishing shaft the swallow time does it to us. Each
time my little body-daughter calls home a movie she says / sorry, mama /
you don’t get an invitation to the house of the dead exes, the weeping salt house
on the inlet its mouth a'foam with / rocks, sandcharm, without falling down
a shaft or two / you don’t have to get it yet you’ll know us forever / we’re ore

1 comment:

adams24 said...

At times it's like an echo braids Gerard Manley Hopkins and Paul Celan.