billyfivecrows

Neck-turn half-way, each way: bissected corkscrew.

Lyrics negotiate. Temple coaxes.

Sunbrain is mid-brain. Everyday darkness; average.

Where is fourth eye?

Two scorpions in the frozen north and I wonder.

No wonder. Strangers are crowds with single neck.

Typoed crow. I quit listening. I start everything.

Typoed star. Inedible flower, twice digested.

Petals fall. Something vulgar like "anal garden". Or

Gravity. Sisters' bones dropping on a turtle, break.

We learn slowly, tie back shell with curl.

A beautiful girl, a man. Two more rivers in the forehead.

Two more curves in bed. I come unbruised,

Smoking sidewalk in my pipe. Some king typoed

Some prince denied...


***


"Only the artist knows if he's really cheated himself."
-Bruce Nauman


"Sometimes we'd say 'That's good enough.'
And most of the time, it was."

-Paul McCartney


***

Another late night until early morning. Random card pulling from Bhagavad Gita deck. 'Rebirth', 'Seeing God', 'Winds of Desire'...

'rebirth'- me like an amniotic cyclops

'seeing god'- I try...but "everywhere" just keeps getting in the way

'winds of desire'- iron apple...32 tounges instead of teeth

(My interpretations at 3.35 AM...want to sue a poet? Any court would say 'invisible'. Any judge on a see-saw, solo.)

One rib in my back clicks like an amnesiac clock, or a needle caught in a spider web on a sail boat in the desert.

I love to smoke. Amber left-hand fingertips and ruby net on my armblades.

Flesh is the barricade of dream.

Suck.

Lotus tea for birthday.


pacifist warfare #62

Turn the day
Like a frying pig.

Be kind.

Eat the snout
First

Save the worst

For never. (Now

Is cloud time, now

Is something

Heavier than
Humid. Dream warts.

An awkward fort

Burning down

As it stumbles...)