Archive | July, 2019

“Mirror Slaked to Mirror”

31 Jul

“Mirror Slaked to Mirror”

We were in this band

no matter how fast you ran

made us feel this beautiful again

and all lights we were here then

just us on a rainy afternoon

just us could listen to rain together

just us: trees open to relax

even the tigers in the closet, at last

to spread a cream made of mirror

to mirrors correct you,

or your vision’s illusion

down the gull of a hollow seagull

and waves crash in the clouds

and pretty when the roses

smell boats under the covers

a mirror is the murderer

to the heir of the thief:

it don’t allow you to break your own bones

not meant to stretch that way.

“Moving on from no place left to go”

22 Jul

“Moving on from no place left to go”

We’ve been nicked by the place

from bunched knickers

and watermelon juice

helping was no choice

you have stolen

a belief in throned angels

goddesses with fangs

roped the diamonds, bulged the veins

a killer mazed in

the pattern of a drug rug

smoke exhales, gun after gun,

a genie with eyes poked-out

above a bubbling phantom lake

a curse to get to know you

pull out the bandaid of the skin

let the pins and needles in

I’m lava for you, gorged at the peak

and strangulation, the wise horse

rides like a dusty vagabond

through the fields of your apprentice

leather fingertips drum and to lie

with you laughing, slicked toes and joints

and kissing turns to jam

together forever and over

and down with you, a silk bird egg

smolders the closing bolt, doorway light

bounds the slipped grip

canopies the burned forgiveness

a dropped feeling brings the magic

lifting to each and every teacup

for a golden liquid

holes your throat to train whistles,

bloodied threads of undershirts

wave from the prickers,

one drip will spiderweb the pain of plan.

“Drag Me in Before the Rains”

14 Jul

“Drag Me in Before the Rains”

Forests bristle at the one dart

to the center of our foreheads

is the only option for potions

it’s hot furniture, kissed to the doves

I knocked back powdered ridges,

fell through falls, shimmering water

they barbecued your lawns

a haunted scarecrow

from a distant planet

when planes thrash and the spaceship hardens in disaster

pull out of battles, juiced spear,

barbed battering ram

speaking love in the shade of blouses

desires infestations, to crash

spaceships at some point beyond rash

half will survive this time warp

mirror a bottle brain, a finger in a test tube

a future recreation of each forest

of every bloodied-lip dawn.

“Bathing in Spirits”

12 Jul

“Bathing in Spirits”

In a pirate ship of any town

as you filter out the fish

the sun strong enough to stand

and all honors devolved

for pale queens

sequin into sorrow

all blue, nobody believed in

time to sit and brood

cast off the fish-tank light

nobody will find you

in the bounty

for this beautiful belief in spirits

the dead elves of broken promises

threads kissed, a time revoked

bathed in rose light of blue lips

fastened forever together in stitches

the street that walked upon us

deserted us when we were happy

to blow kisses of glass

belief in spirits.


11 Jul

Review of THE SEVEN MADMEN by Roberto Arlt

1 Jul

It’s hard to evaluate this baffling novel, which either may be a reason to read it or a reason not to. At times the irreverent, loopy proselytizing of its main characters during its central section concerning a politicized mega-organization of progressive brothels caused this reader’s eyes to glaze slightly o’er; add to that the undramatic murder finally realized in the last few pages after which a character mutters “that ought to do it” which was the only other discernible plot point in this flimsy and maddening opus, and you have an odd, airy, dreamy sort of book entrenched in monetary struggle, class divisions, and hope relegated to lunacy. These madcap digressions, soapbox characters, and ineffable flashes of deteriorating language veering into luminescence end almost arbitrarily, to be continued in the next volume (novel) entitled The Flamethrowers. This quote from the about the author section best sums this book up: “He was thrown out of school at the age of eight, reportedly for writing the following note to his teacher: “Senorita, let us run away to the sea. Dressed in black velvet I shall carry you off to my pirate ship. I swear by the corpse of my hanged father that I love you. Yours till death. Roberto Godofredo, Knight of Ventimiglia, Lord of Rocabruna, Captain of the Whaler TACTITURN.”

Video Diary 1

1 Jul

My first video diary features me reading from Splatter von Rainbow, singing a medley, and playing with a southern accent.

Check it out here.