6 poems originally published at Carcinogenic Poetry.

White Rainbow Magic

I've seen a white rainbow, birth of raven's eye
crashing out of her skin
erecting a wall of vision
pure in perfect disorder
while thoughtless priests surrendered
to Albion’s eves of light
sailed rivers of her hair
praised sunlight at her bridges
as she bathed in the glory of goodbye
white rainbow smiled on her thigh
the morning ended too soon
her kingdom is not of this world, I sighed
and turned eternally down
to the spiral bindings
of a common
comedian’s
sidewalk

Janitor Sun

The sun's now honey and cornflakes
orchid’s breakfast
gigantic taste bud
janitor of night
in basins of remains
drinking his rum
illicit actor of dusk
explicit angel
chatting how life
passes us by
shaking off our madness, slowly
the sun would never care
the sun would never write lines
as useless as these
the sun has no time
for dim offenses
the sun remains where it's always been
five years ahead
or seven behind
the sun don't mind
we should all be alike
we should all be alive
start wearing white
take off the mourning masks
let our bodies be ripped apart
the sun breathes no fumes
no death
no mirrored safety
is one
belongs here
and so do I, you’re learning
stop looking at my
reflex

Basquiat's Head

It felt like a crack in Basquiat's head
transmitting Andy’s
final words
a world of no hospitals, prisons
a world of hotels
white instant galleries
friends repainted
rewritten, infinite
Jesus proved a Polish wanderer
multiplied, sad
stuck to the wall
on fluorescent cross
with neon Jewish crown
twixt other UV heroes
one-second divas
junk on film
black revolution hell
speed and James Dean
primal hip-hop beats
my radio screamed for the whole fucking week
my notebook howled
my children cried
my kitchen bled tons of wine
my beard grew longer
my bathroom held bones of Jimi Hendrix
the chicken sun refused to shine
and I never managed to paint my graffiti
fix my banjo
or pay a visit to Annie
8mm skies fell down
showing dark Haiti voodoo
but really
it felt like a crack in Basquiat's head
not at all a ceremony
unexpected golden dawn
on willing hearts
and wide open arms

Humble Cold

I take a look at everything, blessed
but disenchanted
on anxious figures in the dark
crawling forsaken
under iron heels
of time

Nomadic pain
utters so little, watching the night
uprising
without a chance for home

Seconds belong to me, the ashen cut
far from the young pretender
weeping at railroads and oceans
with corpses laying spread
sure of contrast
and fervor pressing love

Cooling my time, at windows
of sin, glowing like a lost mild bird
soaring with hopes but bound
with famine, asses singing with me
carrying the message of sun
safe in shadowy burn

Pallid thief
dressed in fluttered flutes
rolling angry, in vain
thru wishes of a shattered
interpreted world
hunting for laughter alone – cast
in the humble cold

Flashes with Tears

Gloat and mope on stars… one ancient midnight
angels smell your heart… sinking drums,
to you it’s life – calm listening voice, the long
met cold, dark blue eternity – world
has no senses… it rests beneath your lips
curls of soul, absolving… marble stays
here, waxes flow… walking on my skin
the green, the wide… grass rolling your
traveler’s touch… this is your morning
shadowy oaks enthrone chimera – born on names
of grief – harmony’s fainter, double
playing the blues on heavenly ladders
coy and young, she knows no salvation… walk
her out – streets, tone, dances, dragging
alone – fissures voicing the river
hearing those swinging roots, moon deep
pain praises dawning, wayfaring
the ocean renewed, while wood in fences
flashes with tears
below you

Deaf Critic

I'll go to Wal-Mart
get "Songs from a Room" (remastered), "Essential Leonard Cohen"
and a Panasonic Arc IV Wireless Men's Wet/Dry Shaver
in this way, I'll be putting across a social message
I'll save you some time
and I'll play deaf critic again
not cutting myself, like before, to rusty little
razorblade pieces