the shape of your neck
wrestling with my focus
I could have smiled
and twirled a spoon
in my coffee
to taste the dimensions
of your spiraling
lips
I’ve wondered
how your body
would resists
being against a window
freezing like dew
in the dawn
all that we study
to forget
the longitude
of an instant
laughter
- yours -
dripping
from above
and there is no
sky here
let’s repose
and dissolve
like heat
ripples
from a distance
over
an unfamiliar
path.
I took your lighter
because it contained
the history of fire
I lit up a cigarette
melting the tobacco
into the fluid of smoke
lava pouring into my lungs
and my pupils expanded
as ripples on glass
I took a sip of tea
heavy with that coat of earth
my tongue
plowing
through its spicy furrows
at this speed
my head was dizzy
banging against
the horizons of
abstraction
I was hungry
licking the enamel walls
of totality
dissolving its porticos
its buttresses
its ornaments
as my appetite
grew
with these ecstatic
fragments
I flicked
off the ash
and walked
away with
your lighter
sorry.
NIHILISTIC Poetry
I cannot wait
to be in your teeth
ripped apart
in black disguise
by your plotted fangs
and crushing grand schemes
I can’t wait
to be flotsam
that nobody finds
in your sea of control
rotten planks
sinking into an insignificant
quiet disappearance
I cannot wait
a minute longer
to be fake rice
in your fields of expansion
never becoming
more than a spot
of white nothingness
amidst your supreme
everything .
gray ground
nestling
the little curvaceous
seeking self
a methodical
appraisal of the
unintelligible
empty fields
arising
an axiomatic love
of chaos
and labyrinth
light never
ages
but its image
traverses time
the tree was spotted
as the period
at the end
of a graceful sentence
that spoke of
a timeless seed
the eyes that were
given to me
eloped with darkness
an affair
of unknown
qualities
and reverberations.
The petal has rivers
long opulent light against the breast
solely swirls in silent colors
my skin upon the sky’s skin –
certainties are wrestling
over collapsing possibilities
the leap has a tinge of sorrow
the chain rattles
a river of petals
aging
on an empty
course to bliss.
.
have you seen
pee
splash wide
into a cascade
on the urinal wall
running freely
down the slope
of its white surface
wildly awake
before entering
the oblivious hole,
how I envision
all my decisions
thrusting forward
like a jet of pee
smashing against
the white mural of life,
how they would collapse
and stain the blank episode
of time
and inevitably surrender
like a trickle
that is swallowed
by a whirlpool of death…
No matter
what I write
this will never bear a name
all creation falls through
the empty sky
always falling
no hands here
to catch and retain
anything
no matter what
my memory is always empty
it has no truth
no one is here
to witness anything
the mind is uninhabited
and uncharted
a rock fell asleep
and this is its dream.
happy thirty
happy death
happy where are we
I have traveled
inside a cave
crushed inside skin
dried patches of skin
hands callous
the incurable stink of walking
over distance
dark distances
I have traveled
in dangerous caverns
falling, screaming
repeating
savagely
for thirty years
scavenging
closing in on those
scarce drips of essence
those impossible puddles of truth
inside a cave
where I begin to feel like shadow
dark layer upon dark layer
going nowhere
I already hear them singing:
happy happy thirty
happy birthday
joyous shadow
lost lost lost in time
There
by the brook of your stare
I meet the sound
of your drowning,
‘alas’ so light and lasting
a word surfacing like sighs from your eyes
I make room and stand back
so you run into the invisible
curl of a mistake,
my child you’ve begotten
sadness and its truth
is more distance than those streaming
glares that leap from walls to illusions –
there
I recognize our mutual meaning
nowhere in this fog
the outline of solution
nor the source of our misery.
We have landed
in the experience
to reenact
the dance and
drunkenness
of stellar events
it is all
ignorance and
pure movement
in the field
of
now.
