crawling out
nobody knows how much time it took
for the ocean to crawl
out of the body of the primeval human
now it sits alone
in a skyscraper aquarium
wearing a cruiser bowtie
and nicely combed rain
it looks through the windows
at the mad seagulls of the city
resting its head on billows of foam
thoughts of the upcoming sunset
rise to the surface
a fleshy tear rolls down its cheek
and lands on the office table
it had such hopes for life
it tried its best not to drown anyone
and threw ashore
stranded containers
full of contraband joy
it learned serenity and meditation
so as not to be salty and turbulent
but now it sits alone
after many years of evolution
a plastic lump stuck in its throat
whales throbbing under its skin
and salt stings everything
that couldn’t be hidden
from the congenital flood
agora
they treated the hide and wrapped the bones – –
they built a greenhouse for growing strange treats
have you tried my heart? take a bite please take a bite
it’s hard like a diamond and soft like foam from a cloud
dip your heart into honey into shards of glass into knives or into another heart
daub them with any color you like for color is the true hunger
take a bite sink your teeth in
my smoked lungs are like a large butterflied carp
(did you know that fish grow ripe on black trees under water?)
best paired with a basketball game and craft beer
if you don’t mind pulling the nocturnal branches of the city park trees
and sharp sighs out of your mouth
the juicy sprouts of my veins my brain matter that tastes like the universe
my innards stuffed with existential shit
and my tongue must be boiled for three hours in fresh swan milk
add a few bay leaves then some pepper and salt
and you’ll easily peel off that verbal rind that delicate skin
saturated with a bitter world
take a bite please take a bite scatter me morsel by morsel
from this old market counter because I can’t bear the anxiety of seeing
three-headed dogs prowling about salivating with fiery spit
flight
he took off his backpack
shook out the feathers
glued them with wax
to the sleeves of his jacket
laid out on the grass
among the red toadstools
then ran up and jumped
from the cliff and glided away
with birds into the future
from there he sent letters
lucky numbers
for lottery tickets
hurricane warnings
alerts on earthquakes and heart palpitations
I believed nothing
I hurled a stone from the cliff
one day
it came flying and struck
fire in the cranial cave
the invisible ones
to my faded friends
seasons change
guards in towers too
the same floodlights
tear darkness to shreds
the gray walls of the prison discard
crumbling colored letters
crumbling friends and stories
they tear away and peel down
wallpapers with rhombi of events
and unwadeable circles
the town clinic with boarded up windows
it always smelled of a hospital
now with its lungs aired out
it stands lonely and shrieks
in the language of buildings
its childhood needles are combed
as if it were waiting for the sky to whistle
so it can walk down the alley of linden trees
toward the old fountain
wagging its tail
behind that wall we predicted the future
near the red brick house
we cast spells invented
new styles rapped visions
so much had to happen
too much so the world wouldn’t splinter
so we wouldn’t have to spin the barrel
loaded with values not unlike bullets
which we shot at each other as we separated
darkness from light
we became the fading words
on the metal gates of the prison
that we may never again use
to talk to each other
true consolation won’t happen
I hear how those words crumble into the snow
having lost the color of sound
ark
Pairs of all creatures that have the breath of life in them came to Noah and entered the ark.
Gen 7:15
the building looks like
an old cattle car
it emits an unknown smell
as if it were assembled
from the remnants of noah’s ark
perhaps the piss and the feces
from the animals who traveled together
have steeped and impregnated the wood?
the clatter of rail metal
like knives sharpened against one another
that shall cut the throat of the heavens
for the port to be flooded by crimson
here nothing is licked clean
as if tongues of fashion do not exist
it rains for forty days
and forty nights
fog is anchored
in sleeping streets
plaster bird ornaments
perched around the mysterious doors
await the imminent ebb
just come up and open them
some voice tells me
the doors have always been within you
I’m scared to open those doors
I say in my thoughts as if answering
I’m afraid the beasts will escape
and I’ll be too weak
to overcome them in daylight
dante
dante drove through the forest when
the wheels locked up and first he
tried to jack up the hell by himself
finally seeing he couldn’t handle it
on his own dante called in a tow truck
to bring it to the repair shop
nothing serious happened
the mechanic told dante when he
came to pick up his hell
just a few giant rocks
stuck in the fourth wheel
and a jammed brake pad in limbo
dante revved up the hell
it roared with voices of monsters
he cranked up the music
and drove off on a dirt road
leaving behind a gray cloud of dust
that obscured ominous pines
from their bark we carve boats
dreaming to sail out one day
without piercing the world
on the black spire of the void
