The Air On The Moon Is Not Yours
I closed up the brain some flutter music waddled out
The spark of the liner notes the must the elegance of tripe in basket
the elegance of debt
If you are dreaming go west with an umbrella go west
I thought of you in the grander sense like a dispatched Antarctic like a blue sunrise
or a soft Deniro shaking loose
I talk up the spinal chord so much lustward of my kin
It isn’t wet it isn’t escapist
The best dog I ever walked was your name in a white mouth
We dreamt under moonlight and I threw away your sun
I built a Ferrari inside my white mouth
The shape of it was blue and up came the sun
I said hey, Ferrari and with my white mouth huffed it good, huffed it pretty
The throat of your pale moon heartscape contained me
I said, hey pale moon heartscape, contain me and it did,
like a dog, it contained me, inside the full blue nothing
Dogs are shapes of the air I don’t see
Walked your dog walking your dog, it was demeaning
I went outside next door upstairs away dreamt
Your lake was clear blue, like a demanding lake, clear blue
I balcon up your seam, some subaltern vault heresy of crapping
Into radix, feign reduction into strapped on blooms
like strap-on blooms
What redux what dream what breath what desire
Your drifting concussion isn’t reliable, it is distinct
Wet meaning haunts your face light dream big like a diamond
Splined and wrenched, the coup sought containment
Inside it, no chicken, no prize, no soft bread
Seen you once
So much debt in my face and I couldn’t reduce it
I puked I puked I walked outside I puked
I throated your pale purple moonlight in the draft
I make feelings about your lifting face and champion the bolt that locks it
Fuck the wind, it just makes you creepy
Like dog-shaped air, I want to climb the war instead
I climb your balcony of soft enunciations, bruised skies
I said hey, you said whatever
I said hey, this part of us glows unto the moon
The Space Of The Body Is Not Your Freedom
Breathe room into your fresh marriage of stars
Into the tiny blue asphyxiation
We call careerist driving or downward driving dog
Or all my feelings are named Elizabeth
But none of them are
And none of them know how to blink
And none of the know how to gas light the great arc
And none of them know how to break a glass mold
Eat its glum hackneyed innards with varietal sauce on tap
Break it into concepts worth taking
Into glass poems for the living
Your housemate is your philistine compatriot
His red yellow crux of Whitman’s bright luck
Is your longest dream about freedom
To be human is to lux into the weakness heart
Like bruising tangerines
Like holding snow at the dinner table
And expecting to be surprised
To be human is to love eating
To love the color green and to blame it
To not erase the chicken drawn on every map
The gold line it shivers, the small speak it has spun
The Dream In The Book I Didn't Write Isn't Real
I thank the black shapes
that sing me red.
I begin climbing into the
tree song that I have caused you.
It is the song that I have caused you
to bleed the goodbye I want to make you into.
Consider the highway!
Its dumb luck and strong breath
consoling our sleeping flowers and how
how breathless you are in the moonlight.
You are a sky rocketing up!
If saying forever is nothing like
saying Alaska Alaska,
if saying Alaska
means going broke in June,
this wagon of bees believes you
and you believe quietly that
I am a pleased corporation.
Here is how you should clean
a picnic basket or your neighbor.
Say I will clean you and then do it
with your optic nerve and cryptic handshake.
And you my neighbor
are just another ruse
wearing a house dress that greets me.
I think you should go swimming
in the quiet of your harbor,
in the quiet of my Etch-a-Sketched grove.
