future men (before the end)

at 16x speed, their hands resemble ants scrambling over fresh carcasses--
tracing patterned memories of an old order that still pumps blood to their eyes and
drinks their regrets.
they cut past time spent on enemy images and romantic entanglements,
quixotic visions of mercurial dreams--
in remedy of gone opportunity,
weathered and internalized,
holding on like ice cubes at the bottom of a glass.

grand vision

no one tells the truth
in dreams or represents reality--
only speaking
structural
averages of unknowing
institutions of totalization--
all participate in rotary circles of concentric memory,
nationhood-regurgitate, military, corporatized,
tentacle empowered,
weaponized--
but set apart; they glow the
amber sheen that reflects in each their other's
eyes,
mirror rivers winding towards landing strips marked apart
by runway lights and railroad ties, carried off in
shopping bags emblazoned with the esoteric codes of
boardroom inside gags, parlor games shrouded in cigar smoke,
talk of asian markets and the weary western gaze.

here, the violence of self absorption
winters worship of the crowd; it sustains itself on
the idolatry of ideal power, its lexicon of infantile attachment

ok

whatever you need
to prevent your death
in full supply, fly
apparently unused and
wet

old mornings

i knew love like christmas
iridescent wrap yearly
a gray morning's grim exchange
handed con descension
into hands uncalloused written
in a new familiar script.

enter my dynamics
or reseed the priorities you dream
the ether rhymes with every
line of logic reprimanded
handed down from the wet lips of
crumbling fathers
and cheap paper sculptures

ngo

i died an asshole
in a foreign land
i came to know
in pamphlet sized polemics
masquerading as the memoirs of a nation
hell-bent on remembering
the last days/Golden age
that characterized their
sugarcane parautopian
masochistic wet dreams

my time is just
memory and light
dusts of fancy distances
gone and parted gloves in afterglow
born in cover and roaring into
description

porn of girls you used to know
but havent recognized
semblances distraction from the
mundanity of eyes---
neural fold dew saturate by
the hours gone in sleep
into darkness open eyes
with old ideas to reap

i finally had charlie the dog trapped in the corner of the den in the closing seconds of an intense game of "catch me." I reached around the chaise lounge and gripped his hind leg. as i slowly dragged him out from behind it, i met his frenzied look of horror and muttered, "welcome to the realm of the opposable digits-- where the slow reign."

hey now

in my head it's already the weekend
and even though i remember she told
me never to do
what i'm always doing now,
i remain
incorrigible, misdirected,
not too good, but--
believe me--
better off than otherwise

eventually, a pattern emerges

who mourns the fading aftermath
and commemorates old acquaintance
with the rumor of her presence

no more visions of myself married to the christian women
without friends, amongst old enemies and despite themselves
so bothered in their moral considerations and germane illusions.
capitalcapitalcapital, old pal; every day comes the closer destination divined
by our folly doomed to fall.

i build my representations before exiting stage left
and raucous movement masturbate
the obsession of a gentler climate
in the last throes of its only revolution
of quiet obedience and happier times

teethy mouths
that spit their rage
wear their pain
like cheap feather boas
and gaudy jewelry

Les fous de la reine

run through with world views,
Ciné-transe
is my
aching objective, the mise en scène
my only guide--
happily your Actors block and
mediate the aftershock,
in lengthy dialogues
and ontological strife
that symbolizes
my divide

how can a "master race"
express itself
in recessive genes