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“speak
not in frozen tongue”
speak not in frozen
tongue
of the lost child
of the slow stultified
bong
of hearts dread
mind’s
tearing torrents
speak not in frozen tongue
of the lost child
of
the rancid nest
stuffed
with falsified eggs
forced
into premature hatching
of
feet in suppurating
separation
from
the legal forging of
hands
plucking at realism’s
rot
gathering around
stationary matter
“long
sharp type of stick”
when i was 7
i
sat
on
a long sharp type of stick
long sharp type of stick
thrusting
up
out of
dark earth
long sharp type of stick
penetrating
skin
hiding
entrance
to
labyrinth
skin penetrated
by
long sharp type of stick
alone
in
gone
to
seed
garden
i
lost
this skin
i was 16
when
i
was
taken
by
a
man
ah! ah!
stick was sharp
skin
that
hid
entrance
to
labyrinth
gone
man
cheated
by
long sharp type of stick
said
i
was
not
virgin
ah! ah!
stick was sharp
he
left
me
for
another
moaning
to her
i
was
not
virgin
ah! ah!
stick was sharp
he
kept
my
photograph
in her
cutlery
drawer
“Agony’s
claw”
in
the mirror
my mother’s
face
on
mine
ancestral
face
totemic
face
stares
into
the silver ice
of
mirror’s
thrall
ah! tear it off
tear it off
mask
face
my
mother’s
face
pressing close
pressing close
until
one
mask
one
mask
in the mirror
my mother’s
face
on
mine
staring
into
the silver ice
of
mirror’s
thrall
blood
mask
ash
mask
black
hood
of
ancestor’s
jungle
tear it off
tear it off
“glutinous
bag”
bones
of memory
cradling
yellow skulls
in soul’s chamber
desire woven
into a glutinous bag
of
bloody threads
bones of memory
cradling
yellow skulls
“ruby eyed
moths”
(to stoneking)
i am armadillo
running between
pillars of salt
once the world had less people
it was better off then
you
say
fingering your computer
what happens to the droves of souls
without bodies
i
ask
thinking of the ruby eyed moths
who press their fleshly bodies
against lighted windows
“cerebral
trimmings”
i
have
no
belief
in
Yours truly, cerebral
trimmings
between
left
&
right
i
survey
no
meaning
i
know
only
that
water
runs
in a circle
“seed rattle”
(for stoneking)
laid out under
the shadow of a wicker hood
you bang your giant seed rattle
kick up your white perambulator legs
your face
under scrutiny
is
subject
to
tides
floods
your eyes of a changeling
behind a wall of mist
nose
plunging
into
illusion
forehead
assuming
a
stone
egg
your mouth
a
volcano
behind
a
corruption
of
fur
“straw
broom”
before
you
bathe
Yours truly, body
i ask you
to
place
the straw broom
with the long red handle
outside
the bathroom
door
i must sweep
Love’s
naked floor
so many
crumbs
become
lodged
in
her
cracks
“mandala
baskets”
in late childhood
i pissed
into baskets
i tried to mop it up
with balls of cotton
fearful as flood raged
the mandala baskets
could not hold it
“manacles”
everything was
spinning
everything was made
of particles of light.
it was always there – the eye
in its bloody socket saw thru
that which was solidly presented
my love Obsession & his brother Torment
took me at an early age
a cloak of gleaming stuff hang around my vehicles
blood red rivers ran down my arms
bloody manacles bound my wrists
goading me into a vortex of incoherence
i fell to the floor
screaming
slamming my head
the family gathered to view the spectacle
whispering loudly
in
judgement
i got migraines
my sister said i was weak in the head
the bit in the center of my head
was soft
my head possessed a lid
my eye blew up into a bubble
everything possessed a double
casting gigantic shadows in the torture chamber
of my mind
i could not learn
i could not understand what they were talking about
knowledge possessed a dangerous sound
i made no attempt to decipher
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