1)
It is still today.
It is not yet
tomorrow.
My saber gaze
breaks open
boulders you
dare send.
Earthen pots
tremble, implode
forget. I do
not. Cut my
teeth on oil.
Milk my sperm
for flesh. This
licorice flavor
is not mine,
but mulch.
Too much mulch.
Send water -
we are thirsty.
Why are we so damn thirsty?
2)
It is still today.
We will never live
until tomorrow. Live.
Migrating birds remember
their agony; so why
can’t you? Here
lies the lie
of abundance:
a punch in
the bread basket,
the last toast
gone cold.
Dissect & offer it
to the birds;
they will feed
their dreams,
or ignore it.
Either way:
offer it up,
to the birds.
3)
In an age without memory
regret is the only currency
of worth.
4)
In a time without worth
we knock on dead doors
with stony fists.
5)
In a fist without worth
6)
There is no first without worth
7)
There is no fist of worth
8)
Only fists - do your
homework; excel at
marauding; get a
good coffin
The Best
Satin Pillows
Double Lid
Rest In Peace
Among the greatest
worms sorrow can buy;
they grow plump -
warm pie - for birds
whose bellies,
tight on cold toast,
primly decline.
9)
Pretty costs, but
ugly is always free.
Cultivate the Hideous
The Leprous, Cankerous
& you’ll never want
for Love. Repeat it:
I serve only the
future mulch…
In one swerve
of S you’ll
find me - armies
marching through
my thumbprint.
The Dow on decline.
I flit thru canyons,
swat pterodactyls,
match the pyre,
weep with Jesus,
relegate infinity
in time for toast
and tea. Say it:
no ideas but
futility. Butter
this mildew, and
feed it to
those birds…
They will not have you either.
10)
Today
I hereby accept
the title
of Champion
of Mud.1)
It is still today.
It is not yet
tomorrow.
My saber gaze
breaks open
boulders you
dare send.
Earthen pots
tremble, implode
forget. I do
not. Cut my
teeth on oil.
Milk my sperm
for flesh. This
licorice flavor
is not mine,
but mulch.
Too much mulch.
Send water -
we are thirsty.
Why are we so damn thirsty?
2)
It is still today.
We will never live
until tomorrow. Live.
Migrating birds remember
their agony; so why
can’t you? Here
lies the lie
of abundance:
a punch in
the bread basket,
the last toast
gone cold.
Dissect & offer it
to the birds;
they will feed
their dreams,
or ignore it.
Either way:
offer it up,
to the birds.
3)
In an age without memory
regret is the only currency
of worth.
4)
In a time without worth
we knock on dead doors
with stony fists.
5)
In a fist without worth
6)
There is no first without worth
7)
There is no fist of worth
8)
Only fists - do your
homework; excel at
marauding; get a
good coffin
The Best
Satin Pillows
Double Lid
Rest In Peace
Among the greatest
worms sorrow can buy;
they grow plump -
warm pie - for birds
whose bellies,
tight on cold toast,
primly decline.
9)
Pretty costs, but
ugly is always free.
Cultivate the Hideous
The Leprous, Cankerous
& you’ll never want
for Love. Repeat it:
I serve only the
future mulch…
In one swerve
of S you’ll
find me - armies
marching through
my thumbprint.
The Dow on decline.
I flit thru canyons,
swat pterodactyls,
match the pyre,
weep with Jesus,
relegate infinity
in time for toast
and tea. Say it:
no ideas but
futility. Butter
this mildew, and
feed it to
those birds…
They will not have you either.
10)
Today
I hereby accept
the title
of Champion
of Mud.