the blog of i -630 words

I ease into the bloated rivers of plasma, in the jugular vein of the wasted dealer

All the moors of eastern Scotland
Laugh like the wind
The heart of a rose
Rimming the tomb
Every skull
Grasps reveling chances
To perhaps fuse
The arm in
Find if you can
The snap of a shiny bone
For the hovering luck
Of the rabbit hindered

I surrender to justice that portrays reflection,
The insect serenading
To sleep
A dead memory
In the striped trenches
The swamp of tears
Regain the faces of delicate ladies
Yearning under
The wonder of a birth
Will it do

Every eclipse in light
Gutters the soft yellow glow,
Without a burn
For the footsteps proceed
In the warm quickening night,
On the heated cobblestone
In their flight
Escapes the burning hands of the angry sea

I crawl the distance that webs close behind
I digest the sweet amour
In the heart of the sun the cicadas singe

In the tomb of the end
Is the touch of His hand
Thinking of it punctuates my longing

I exhale in the heavens
I command the celestial knowing
I can protect you from seething peril

In the carat, on the hand, from the ground
Where the children played in the mud
Where they climb the gum tree
Where the winged birds return to sleep in their coronet

Under the brittle bridge
Is the spattering DAM of a rat
In the psychic connection of the creatures, for the lead
For my sleeve in the break
For an overgrown love, for the stream that guides every living thing

I empty dirt from the hearts of my boots

I splice the truth for native tongues

In languages that could pour out of the souls of mutes
It is a sound that detects what won’t be removed
In a ruse that a babbling son can’t accuse
For traveling further still
For waking before noon
For the plops on the shady half of a loop

I retreat to separate my words

I soon space out from the fun

I copy the files of the known poet

For the blooming tiara in June
For the islands that steam
For the flight of soil in a break of earth

The dogs I remember

I slay hatreds

I refresh ideologies

I count through the torrent

Fur heads on the coat
From turtles that sun
For brackets that never enforce

I have begun

I sing

I follow the plummet of the wings off the planes that won’t fly

To ferment the grapes on a lath
To break all the mirrors that were fused
To execute smokes in thick bits


I am a choke that begins from the throat
I am the gums that you poison through with dips
I am the treacherous quivering steps in the belly of lies
I am the void holding everything
I connect
I neglect
I am undone
I falter
I view it all
I drip
I roll over
I heave in the line of fire
I pour the glass through
I tie every count that is numbered
With the land in the sea
That a countess becomes
That which is a body unraveled
Winched above prairies, and forest, and springs
Slithering ears
In the corn made of snakes

I claw up the panther with rakes

I arrive on a herd of horses

I cloud the loss for the eagles

I coyote all the skinny deer

I sink in the hidden ground with the animals

I am an entry of knowledge

I am silence in the host of the praying
I am a desperate cycle in the shell of an ocean tide

I loop before the lines through the arrival from before

I am the corpse of frozen centers
Adrift
Over a lake
Made of lava