For Rocco
Acid bark of petroleum too waste imagine never overhanging the city snake colossal hiss kisses armed icon retching sky too on feasting dawn i at the heart regret ever in this sour game the chaplain’s ten point star strewn too scenes too entertain too stretch too reflex too glacier too gamble too gone tossed too faithful.
The blood red light slick on my sky binds skin to skull. I’m not the man you think I am who connects to violence, belching, where sky blinds to understand what I condemn in me. What I connect to skin, to violence, I loved first on the internet. I can’t have known New Jersey before I owned this wretched skull. I’m not the one who connects to violets. Where? There: Where mandible connects to skull. I’m not one for drama. I have no loudness, no spark. I have no loudness for drama. I have no profit for dreams. I am no lout, no prophet. I have sugar sparks for teeth. I split the atom.
hangstar bendstar
frost
in supersonic
sound on wax
father's affect you receive
one in
the air
report this suspension
technique max-herald
suspended
in midair seraphim
sense force
and small scientists
need to employ
emtpy because
you left
receive one house
should appear to be hovering in space
because you recorded
uncertain unstellar star bendstar
fastenstar staystar
illusion
glorious styptic
show followed by speakers
and floatstars bendstars stay up in
planes crash
in speakers as
temporary stop job hangstar bendstar
stay
up in
these paternal jags
in
support of an effervescent decision
this performance weeks before
is only a
temporary
stop-among
my father says sir we do it there shoots
going end to end and driving medically off
just now touching a sort of president of son's
along with cannot be halved alone with couldn't happen
to a worse man
charge me with his wonderment
i will have changed the media landscape
academically through new york a railroad spike
driven through a hallowed wrist a hollow kiss
i watch something trigger a spike in trading
on the the futures market
it takes over my people fractures blood on the
crt green landscape
and if it stays there well maybe now i waste the day
frankly the father is a masterpiece ego
let it mean i was reported properly if i will tell it as a story
the reporting will not adapt to every social condition on the
gunpowdered horizon
for now though we break the mosaiced stuff with our talking
now i govern anyone who says no and go out
along the what-if to starve my ideas like spent shot blast
pupils big
as street lamps
warming up
an
attack
of white iron radiator hiss
father by the ramparts
that bed remember
beside a white work truck
his bed
inside the white iron radiator
his left earlobe
—
tall
field
that rampart
save
mending
in forbidden planet
with almonds
drooping
an albino peacock over a
small
sweet lamp
warming his father's
long
their
bed
beside the white work truck
one hit
of cedarview avenue please
behind the suburburating forbidden planet
with almonds
drooping
for
black holes
near station square and
elian gonzalez
like diogenes' razor-cut baseball fields the
pigeons
and buskers take what they are given
and smile
arguing
in their bed
beside
the white iron radiator
his father's
long
white work truck tells me
one
hit
of bart
simpson acid
— $8
hours later
nyu
and extensively
freckled
downtown traffic
masturbating
into
catcalling
father's
long white
iron radiator his
left earlobe —
tall
sweet lamps
warming
an
exotic
species mending
over a
small
field
that
abuts
pigeons and overwhelming my maturity overwhelming
in his bed
beside whiteness
stone-cut blondeness
hair
gelled up to an
insignificant
slope
the pigeons
overwhelming are not validated by their quantity but rather
long
white
iron radiators of their
fathers
long white
pupils big
as big
street
lamps
warming
overwhelming into catcalls
scott pulls me
one
hit
of weird whiteness
stone-cut blonde
hair gelled into his
left earlobe —
a tall field
of rather
long
whiteness dotted
with elian gonzalez
or masturbing the size of an insignificant slope
at the pigeons and extensively freckled up
albino peacock glassine overwhelming
albino peacock
glassine over a
small suburban-side
hit of bart simpson
acid
— $8
college freshmen
and
albino peacocks glassine
overwhelming in his
left ear — lobes of
tall stone
that
abut the palatial valley
at their bedside of white
iron radiator hiss
they save me
one
hit at a time
an
attack of whiteness
a jello-cut baseball sweet lamps
warming
for
black of weird white
iron
his father's
long whiteness
stone-cut blonde
hair gelled
up
like an albino peacock
glassine over
the small field
that ramparts
they save money
by drooping
in
their beds
beside
one hit of white
pupils big
as big as street lamps
warm
the pigeons above and
my
maturing in his
left
earlobe —
tall fields
mend ramparts
drooping
not of this valley
at
the pigeons on the white
iron radiator in his father's
white work truck