make business out of lonely business

open mouth wide, that hole
from which all the world’s great blood
extends & extrudes forth
from birth, agony—
            uncertain, unearned
            reward, death, or
            no love
            no hope.

I do not understand
as you do not understand.

for brothers will no longer
behave as brethren.

if, by chance, we dance—
            this and every other dance,
then, pardon all intrusions:
            bile, waste, bodily refusal.

our refusal(s); lacks, lacking good sense,
the formalities of ritual(s).

everyday death—
            are you,

…it is growing
this business
of loneliness—
            this settling
            of private affairs
            in public.

do you fear
the end
the way I fear
your end?

squirm & quake
shiver, shake
much the way I have seen
the end
of our days

and I cannot
step away…

…there is a nucleus
to this scientific manner of fear,

I fear:

            I will be
            the first to go,
            & you,
            the first to hear.

A brief history of a festival now questioned

Now meant nothing to me, or him.
The stepping out, into rain, empty sky,
Appeared to be enough of an apparition’s attempt, at process.

So began the text as holy writ,
Formed from hands gnarled by weird furies, weirder anxieties.
They called him a name, and named me a bard.

Beginning somewhere behind the tongue, a prior tooth with resistant nail,
There will never be a new moment, signified by bliss,
Until such subdivision sculpts us to truth.

We do not know what exists,
As ready, for good making.

My heart aches, burns,
That aged wine, rushing presence, of pleasure.

Yes, I have witnessed your press & pressure,
All myriad colors laid bare before
Some careless, ill-chosen fountain.
Some zone at once within, without…
…where language fails a frail tongue,
When she shrieks herself awake.

Every day ruined by the leer of melancholy,
A brooding black dog’s dumb blues.

So? Become, at once, one—avatar, one’s only atman,
With only dead stars to offer you cold carrion’s comfort.

So much sublimated in such futile wanting,
The redundant rotations of wishing,
Instilling color & shape into that
Penultimate misrecognized form,
Some mere human, chucked or thrown toward being.

Serpent god makes this world

And now we approach
This sometimes-end.

We were occupied, then,
Discussing the presence of ‘you’ or ‘now’.
Here. Where birds begin to berate other birds,
Beaks as petulant as our stubborn, dying sun.

I bend, choke, locked in futile rituals,
Prostrated toward divinity,
Within & without her withering glare.

I ask serpent & sunlight alike, thrice,
Forgiveness, or even a gesture of mercy will do.

Please peel back the red flesh of my plea,
The finite existing only as nucleus to its other.

O Lord, some God, before benevolence or a just god,
I remain vigilant as mere nothing in the embrace of your presence.

Fatal assumptions rupture all below,
The world boiling beneath that fallen furnace.
Another orgy, within newfound fellowships, with the animals.

Until then, the serpent smothers all,
Gone to rot and bloat, leaf root & stem.
Dying, dying, we’re all on our way out.

Stretched to the brim, thinned,
By futile vigil, impoverished defiance,
Pride its own worship, an irreverent camera.

Now all time aligned in a boy’s body, the never-man,
Reflexive explanations evaporating from this world,
Given time a becoming garment for none,
Rheumed & rutted eyes, freely plucked,
Overwhelm me, now, or better yet: begin again.

Viscera Wantings

Everyone transforms to star
Before that big bright
Loony of mid-sized star

Saw someone
Undergo the labyrinthine
Dictating something to no one

It hurt so true
See the rot set new
Midway to end

I become death
Several unrealized dreams
All relative to once-abandoned bliss

Follow it, someone said to Him or Her
My God taking flight
Before form or color or wayward shape
Wish for fresh stench,
Howl viscera wantings
Loud, lurid, pure

Well, what new use
Useless scraps
Timid tepid language

Become like shadow
One that ate the rock behind
Before you were ever You

Persona-seeking fanatics
Stream seep
Permeate through
Every unchecked nook and corner

Never imagined
We would be here for such treat
As you or it or she or that

So began my usual dance
Posture of pleasure
Before the only altar

Knowing little
Of course unhorsed
Taught little
No divine design

An attempt to forge
Within the abandonment
Any remaining necessities
All inherited guilt shame

For we should feel necessary
To necessitate even
Some auxiliary assumptions
Intent intrusions of you becoming “me”

I wish to call myself away
A long-winded dialogue with none
Turn insides outward
Evidence of new horizon

Stating thus:
I am hurt
Have not yet learned
Here a wound I did not know
To name with a little finger

This a place where bits of Hell
Make new love
Beneath blessings of betters

drug, taken in night, with rain

piss break
among stars

caffeine stream, tinted
pale yellow hue

cock unfurled red
my self & sense
of self hood
ill with lack
of use
ill with no use
at all

forth first
the constellations
imagined or otherwise
maligned by no God

rains, like screaming Hell
rains like bloody cats&dogs

bloody angels, really
a most moist
motley of monthly business
mostly bad for business

terrible luck
such weak hands
I have
with that
most offending

need something
wicked, any bit
of wickedness
any given day
will do

in the here
& sometimes now
sometimes disposed
to generosity

forgive all
extruded earth
silly really

it was (all of it—
end, beginning)
quite unnecessary,

yes, yes, yes