Elsewhere, perhaps here too, regimes stagger, a congress ends.
There was only the gulf of our steps, our breathing brittle as string.
Imagine the world you want to live in; make the world in this image.
Time is a hearse and horse, a carrot and stick, a window and widow.
If every present is possible, how can we have eyes to see?
I lie down and see you one bed over; therefore God exists.
The stars begin to turn clockwise, freeing us of all consequences.
I’ve taken the pledge and made donations of blood to the world.
The pupils are toothpicks. The lake is a sky with a circle beneath.
If I bring the wrong pen the words look like snow piles on an empty page.
I let you pull my hair, throw me to the rocks, disarrange me.
Absence rarely makes the heart grow fonder, or so my mother said.
Lunatics call it annihilation . . . Think of it as not doing a thing
Suddenly two would dart and clasp one another belly to belly.
How large our muscles have to be to lift our wings even a single time.
What excuse did I use to pick a fight with that arrogant poet?
I am veins and breath, the entrance the world passes through.
You know what you’ve come looking for you probably won’t find.
I want you enough to gnash you into a silence made from pieces of silver.
There’s nowhere he can kiss where she hasn’t been kissed by the sun.
My brush an M-16, thirty-round clips for tubes of paint, all of them red.
Even the busiest of businessmen are out for the count, paying the price.
This is the stupid math of loving another human being.
Regarding the affairs of our Father, your demon is Ennui.
They plant whispers where shouts incinerate into hisses.
Let’s rummage through each other’s bodies like a blowout sale.
A child no bigger than small change calls from her window j’ai faim.
Two bikers, the bartender, me, and a skinny girl in skintight blue jeans.
Through the dark, we say, through the dark: but do we ever really know?