"Craters in My Iris"

Fair atomic dawn
Falling on the blocks
Equals everyone
Turning back the clocks
Stone age welcome home
Blowing down your shell
Craters in my iris
Death corroding wells

Argentina calling
Witnessing the same
Ancient cities rising
In equatorial rain
Back to wood and wind
Compasses like flakes
Craters in my iris
Death corroding lakes

You lost your rhythm, world, distributed in the crowd
Signals of potential saved, your world is clashing down
Every message has it onwards every filthy news
Covering the planet with colossal nuclear bruise

Totems rise at poles
Neon turns to smoke
Tribal love is back
Choking on its jokes
Sweet like summer breeze
All the A-bombs down
Craters in my iris
Death corroding towns

You faced your myths, denied, but in a wider glance
Generators of contentment hum with acid circumstance
Only two survivors staring, moving up their airy tents
Ventilated till the starless sky must finally pay its rent

"Semicircles and Constellations"

I sometimes dream of you in the ash of days
Semicircles and constellations
I lose you every time I think of sundown
Bridges, landing on pain, in frustration
In the strength of your realization
In the vacuum of another world
I think we still remain
Half-amiable friends
A very loose connection
High up on the cosmic cord
Way up with the angel’s chord
Semicircles and constellations
Looming in the distant void
Of what you call love

I only find you when the night begins
And super fast trains cancel my stay
Throbbing underneath my feet
I’m changing my rooms
Selling tickets that bleed

I sometimes think of home and it looks like you
Semicircles and constellations
Probably on their way to crystal clear Japan
With words that were never my intention
In the face of mathematical collocations
In the armpit of another train
I think we still remain
Favorite woman and man
In these changing situations
I guess we love bright screens
When the chemical day begins
Semicircles and constellations
Looking through a half-closed lid
Of what you call age

"Land Your Machine"

Our houses become a prison…somehow paid
with odd requests – cheerful strings not in store
this is the dawn of true danger – mind games
on mushroom gear and drums, selling ourselves to Muzak
tailored governments…accepting foreign gods
and leaders…nickels on the motordrome…
slob beauty – bumblebee bubble
sun-energized workbench, ribs and powder
young clapping night

Our houses become a prison…god rope girl, floating
fork, the prize and questioned direction – desert out
on gaudy trains, fantastic nipples, frosty vitamins
of youth – alive orbital thing – solid fence airplane
in safe gyrations, American symbol – asteroids mixed
with books, funk prophet wad
obsolete minutes lost in heartbeat, exploring your
ocean… yeah, I could… kiss… you

Our houses become a prison…happening arms
blow jobs – examine recent years, your tingling shirt lifts
illusion, practical, then alone
possible spare parts
mildly protesting own mouths
grounded against the building
gravity slaves
it’s usually Earth, man…
land your machine

"Longplay Be Good"

I’m longplay and I’ve been one for ages
Fragile to stranger hands
Patient in extended foreplay
Spinning 33 times a day
Looking at your high-heeled daughters
Playing the ding along well
The thing is my music is changing
I’m getting better with age

I’ve always had a kick for wine
Always had a kick for you
Come on down, Electra
I’ll show you a trick or two

I’m longplay and I’m standing on your shelf
Dressed in robes of gift
Stretching notes in fakir mode
Lovers kept to see you bleed
Conscious minds of bitter poets
Razorblades, elementary time
Mirrors for the sub-suburban beauty
Talk the jive in Lennon’s bravest ride

I’ve always had a kick for wine
Always had a kick for you
Come on down, Electra
I’ll show you a trick or two

British songs are easy to remember
American are harder to forget
I might light my zenith so much faster
Fury I must keep inside my head

"Beggar’s Past"

I ask of you no charity, it’s just a beggar’s world
Everyone is ragged here, everything is old
All you do is walk around hoping I’ll be gone
All I do is kick my crutch asking you for alms
And you give me all I want
And you answer all I ask
And I ask of you no charity
I’d only like to, love to, long to
Retake my past

Gypsy king of summers gone promised me a ring
Changing fury into verse, songs I cannot sing
Shouted loud against the sky, lucky as can be
All I have to do without is carry wayward free
And you give me all I want
And you answer all I ask
Gypsy king of summers gone
I’d only like to, love to, long to
Retake my past

I left, I never married, the girl was moving fast
Faster than a cannonball, bitter, headed West
All she did was turn my blood into blackened soil
All I did was turn around fastening my coat
And you give me all I want
And you answer all I ask
See, I left, I never married
I’d only like to, love to, long to
Retake my past

"Cut-Up 2010", full poetry chapbook.

Devil-Killer

Use time, we apologized
the dazzling, coming face
inside the guts
operation
the big crackling roar
oxygen next
miniature sands date
metal refineries
ring capacitors
boomed at the surface
hamburger orbits
hoarse nerve
of the devil-killer
automatic
lust

Hitchhike the stars

soft fluorescent
space-fitness
on truck, clothes, much stuff
sentient over repainted
patches
wistful, in hope
you’re there, here…
I’ll be a watch… the cat light
talk waved
keep diving
ground-to-orbit-joint
absence, eyes, thoughts –
including me –
we hitchhike the stars

Engines

engines
flung
half-fused hurt
solar urge
Latin spaceman, pennies
instrument days, calmer, out
commercial side up
another natural blackout
fingers and shoulders, supposed
to join
finished
planning the fix
swaggered sunlight drives
sweating softly
some music workbench

Weekday naiveté

Weekday
pictures of the first dollars sun
bearings, moon
numbers that tower
going gallery out
slim heavily-loaded
official wild burn
griping-arguing-and-planning
two canvas-covered
himself
white
the atmosphere
flamed and unlucky
impersonal first
naiveté

Plum-full nightmares

I’d free millions upper left-hand and walls
perfect exhaled organ
backroom, what difference and blastoff
the darkness soothed
smirked lighted sorrow
eyes with the greys
part but numb
grimly sweaty phone
you drifted price and minds
ludicrous juncture
swamped sorry
plum-full nightmares

Good sky

a ride of velocity over a dreaminess too long of already
questions skipped hurrying the hall
as draped over magic piano
still sepia hands, hot space
gravity fingers
minds swaggered, fortunate  thick
gone with the moonlight
white metallic
part-time compartments
stuff feral boxes
waved musing addresses
legal acid and music
strange silicone vacuum
kinetic instruments fail
troubled black sky!
good sky!

Thin eighteen

thin eighteen
wanted far
asked the beauty much
ached dispersal
considering biting hard
the elevator hand
squeak spare out
sure country
air-flasks
laughed
minus candy
wound to ceiling
blastoff fall-sick
side-kick

Coveralls

only growl lightweights
count habits
small pools
call boys
returned drums
waxy touching
cloud little flowers
feminine hissed electronics
haunting suspicions of muscles
slipped peculiar yell
vegetation
think gravity in weightlessness
down in showing rags
no extra coveralls

Pepsi Earth

horizontal fragments of adventure
sour milk
urged blue
wood-and-fabric millions
distant harmonicas
somebody’s art
backroom
change, the fragile seed of space
sister of substance
brightening capsule
concessions the rare
simple vapor
moments
re-breathing omission and breeze
the planet grows boots
on little couples
tinted iconic
gasping the molecular night
dryly nuclear Moon
junk Pepsi Earth

The Shine

reproduction fails
to blown dog air
faces bend to the sound
of somber floors
timidly cold
where the wandering corpses go
to anything incredible
in ears of glacier wounds
between the possible
and salvation
night trials lost
blacken the flame
giant’s jawbone
longing upon the shine

Great bicycles on river wheels

you are the sunshine, in duty town
carts wriggle
dark aureoles bark
at rain-storms in the mine
lips outlast the strip blaze
this is theater-time
sudden in rays
of spattered moths
the wind’s steeple
offers a ceiling
to gloom
harsh deaf pools
in gleaming dullness
great bicycles
on river wheels

Orion dusk and more

The body experiments
rustling the beauty of not
breaking myself
falling to solitude gods
petal hostility
the strewed before the blossom
roll my hymn-books
and secrecy
sitting in Orion dusk
the lady-red
first wings
sparkles lines, ripples
relentless
she of the all
broken hills of dead
crying their walk
tripping
to a stranger night
watching between the frost
and a candle
pavement sheets of voices
lilies in disguise
breathless harbors
afraid of you
young and confusing

My Piano

seeking love
from bohemian balconies
smoke stale wood
in twisted meadows
moving in time
w/ half-crumbling faces
of lovers
morning gargoyles
the bed palace church,
my piano quivers on
young leaves tremble atop
uproar the stars
bathe in corn
corpses in matchbox
gaunt earth fears them
while you and me weave vision
from flower flanks and see
some scales vibrate
some dancers sun-drenched

Gramophone

Full naked brooks
faint in your distance
empty étagère
masts which float on darkness
clattering fools
hovering, passing smoothly
proudly undressed
their open spirals
the brittle few
bold fire thieves
freeze in flight
frail color from tears
with goggle shapes
thru hesitating vengeance
before dry forests
trees like a giant gramophone