display in gruesome on performance in gruesome at performance their shadows mingle bottom reach for one their shadows above gush for one another of gum pink above gush french’s classic yellow of gum above unintentional of classic yellow constellation above can you see? the above two men can see? odds two men by the woman odds come here to know by the woman dancer’s you’ve come here to drip but dancer’s legs what they need to drip but repetition repetition say what they need say can be its language repetition repetition repetition of grey shadows can its own language perform of grey shadows gruesome perform display gruesome display
my panting heart my heavy void capturing leaf smoke curls the room while i prepare crystal lapped boys to value a buck everyone i know is dead i’m dead too but that never bothered me none
handsome sergio knows the hoary hour every day antoni sneaks off before lunch to fuck his girlfriend violet he presumes i can’t smell the rose in his long black hair
sergio’s allowance twirled on montelliana panerai brioni then alone in darkness arranges black chrysanthemums
What is your name? Never know. Hunched, picked off a pair’a you—neither crow nor winch. A thing god backlit in neon after blessing us with neon. And I know what it means as a poet to carry this heavy basket—faint mason, invisible stevedore, passage of time, neither good nor right.
I am fearful for firm and misunderstood things— the spume, smiling inside the gargoyle, cultural forb— they’re no different as carrion ghouls. Time has done miserable things with light—he waves no staff nor hauls no sack of turquoise shards. Quick!
He’s about to make a break for it. He’s about to windlass Into the clouds, that one’s fancy. The crocodile climbs many painted ladders. No weighted, pretty purple halos ringing the eyes of these wordy wraiths—embrace not knowing your name. I struggle to pull down the old crucifix.
look at those fucking pants effervescent zinc-blind icicles reaching toward our lord and god ugly three-quarter leather clogs the split-pea color of loose babyshit
but man those legs she pulls out a snakeskin card her cowl and pendant choker all those attendant men know what’s up off to the right in awe of the godlike halogen light the other woman ice cold in military pants
the ochre oxblood and white tile floor the painter showing off—ighties—of course he’s showing off the sole cardface— ace of diamonds—joy card hidden from the longhaired pair of rubes
trick of bathing light modern litter the professor elevated incandescent on wheels emanating—you know what comes next—card trick forever spread across the faces of acolytes and accomplices
outcast
cordial pale want
the conduction alone pale
and still bien cuit unperturbed
exile
elementary yet unplayable
school dead feeling of intimacy
this feeling wanted dead
devotee
over snowfall tumble
warmhearted no returns
o which place for the dead
“[T]his detachment… gave me a kind of vampiric energy, although I was my own prey.” Ben Lerner
I watch Picasso work
The granite blob of gray-blue
Into a void, if I said this out loud
He would spit in my mouth and
Curse my mother who hasn’t yet been born
Her arms are returning, an honest day’s work, I am quiet,
Sweat, sweet black eyes,
Longing, a gauntness as from a fountain like
Punctuation.
!["[T]his detachment... gave me a kind of vampiric energy, although I was my own prey." Ben Lerner](https://i0.wp.com/wikipoem.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/asdfee.jpg?ssl=1)