RERITES

September 2017

All poems in this book were written by a computer, then edited by a human,

Aug. 31st 2017 - Sept. 30th 2017.

Algorithm: Pytorch neural network.

More info at http://bdp.glia.ca

~

The September edition of Rerites series is nicknamed Climate Change.

Poems were generated with one parameter changing: temperature. Temperatures increase 0.5 each iteration. Higher temperature create more complex poems.

Temperature Range 0.3 - 1.3

Temperature is displayed before each verse.

jhave@jhave-Ubuntu:~/Documents/Github/pytorch-poetry-generation/word_language_model$ python generate_2017-INFINITE-1M_tab_inc.py   --checkpoint='models/model-LSTM-emsize-1500-nhid_1500-nlayers_2-batch_size_20-epoch_22-loss_6.02-ppl_412.68.pt' --cuda

0.4

To The Garden

In the morning the sun is the sea,

The sea tossed by rain.

The wind is dead silence hissing.

0.5

The days are not blind

Winds or mountains or rain.

0.6

I am the little one who has no chance

In the still of the middle.

And then I

heard the sun.

0.9

In the heated dust of an old body

Love's fang, a ragged flower

Murmuring an old song.

1.0

World. Rockstar, girded window:

cloudless transliterations

pulsings gaits;

and sometimes in the cocktail afternoon,

skin distracts the devil

while the planet ticks quietly.

1.1

The Fucker

mind agreed:

there's too much sunshine

in the secret

quiet fields

1.2

Be Reared Away, Magnolias

Coil:

on the margin of loins

pushing an ocean.

Notch mourning,

slain

unsubdued

objectified

flooding.

Blood mauled

naked

faithful

taboos.

1.3

radicalized

1.4

Despairing

affection's genitals. Hell

nations:

Nemesis

necessity descendant nurst;

retractable faun-like

Burdens

baffled

talking.

0.35

The last night I saw

The first of the first

And I was the way

0.45

In the house of the day,

He was the first old man.

Who was not the same as whoever was not there.

Nor was he in the middle of his life;

In the middle he could not be

The way he was in his own.

0.55

Blood

is the color of the lost

end of the world.

0.65

The old man died to me. His groves

belong to the thorns of the moon.

0.75

Straight to the house she went

with the body of the night.

And the sea

Of light

Would not hold it.

Her light was a girl, and she was

A cloud at the door

In that house where they were born.

She turned

Her eyes upon the floor.

0.85

A prism

in the pale skyline

stillness

over hemlocks

a breeze

rising from walls

syllables

breaking in mouths

0.95

The old woman

imitates all:

where the sea is fruitless,

trees nectar the sandbox.

1.15

Shun

heart-felt poets,

milkweed, illegal timepieces,

making words sweet

to burn

key jaws

invisible, sensuous

obdurate assets

1.25

a great exuberance breathed in the grass

1.35

She big-eyed, half spleen,

collecting discharged hieroglyphic trudging

star-tuned wonder-starred knee-deep cadenced moves

forever,

tearing up the cenotaph's

fallen feathers

1.46

sickness approaches,   futility

flinging vapour,  tomb-stone cacti

light-stirred  suction bruises

0.35

And a man who is not a man

In the house of a woman

Who is not a child

Who is not the one who is not the one

Who is not the one who is not

To be a friend

0.45

I have seen them in a house of the sun

and the trees in the light.

I have seen the dead

who lived in the house

and the women

who were singing for the children.

0.55

the first time we were in the dark

and the fields were in the sea

all was born old

0.65

Wind shattered on green light,

A sea as dark as the sky;

In the garden, pale red leaves

Far from the sun grew cold.

0.85

At dawn

like an unquenched smile,

rage sailed

to the throne.

A dream to manifest

all things; the place of ledges, where to

retreat, sweetness,

and the rustling brief

years of the dead.

0.95

to wake and bend in her self-desires

archetypical suffering

fish tongue --

1.05

strewn

coal-oil rain-bone

carrying old keys from lignite

glass to the island.

1.35

Love-juice, dismember the mound.

It is too-late to cling to pistils.

0.95

We felt the garden's altered dreams

In the reeking alleys of our bidding

1.35

Wistaria

--flint, gasps, beneath

mellower wheezing adroit,

clustered gregarious ossifications

meiosis apples;  glaring worms.

1.46

Lab's mole deity:

aphrodisiac lamé purities cash!);

underwater catheter vandals.

1.56

pavement threshed washrags

bear Brecht sputtered labyrinths

0.45

The world is a kind of art,

a way to be a soul?

~

The green tree

a red girl

the beach

and the men

found the

water

0.55

I watched old people

ride wind

thru a dark  sky

0.65

Elegy

The world in the world

Light of a perpetual light

And the air that is not

The beauty of the soul

Is the wild of the sea

0.75

All Of Us

floated into the air

and got lost

at the same place

0.85

Honesty is why I love

And when I come home

I am the day that

Drinks her open heart, here where

Her bones on the floor are crying.

0.95

And the rising wet spring

opened  a mirror  to let you love it

in the belly

above the legs

that opened

their hot

urgency

1.05

bounty, and the obscure causes of the final person.

1.15

the abyss, indefatigable,

adjusts

to crumple my sweet

not yet begun

1.35

magnets, wormy and unbroken.

brushing her, ignite

nomads, misconstrued

dying leaves, firelit

transmogrified

1.46

So, your habit loam,

filament anemones brighten

bulge-eyed, awakened octopuses.

#####################

jhave@jhave-Ubuntu:~/Documents/Github/pytorch-poetry-generation/word_language_model$ python generate_2017-INFINITE-1M_tab_inc.py   --checkpoint='models/model-LSTM-emsize-1500-nhid_1500-nlayers_2-batch_size_20-epoch_22-loss_6.02-ppl_412.68.pt' --cuda

+~+

Mode: LSTM

Embedding size: 1500

Hidden Layers: 1500

Batch size: 20

Epoch: 22

Loss: 6.02

Perplexity: 412.68.pt

#####################

0.4

A single white cloud

And the fire of the dead

In the heart of the day

The children of the children

And the women of the dead

And the old men

Who are the children of the dead

0.5

The Night

Was a sweet thing at the end of the world,

and the sun was the sun.

The sun was dark and the stars were still;

And the leaves were shining in the sun;

they had been heard by the light.

0.6

Into The Wind.

The freeway pulled the body from a rock

and the waves came down over the night.

these endless fields

can't remember

the ones who will not be lost

0.8

The Other Night

I thought

I could not hear

the living of the earth.

Your eyes were dilated,

and in my dreams

you were my mouth, and

you loved me.

I lived in bed,

and looked at you.

0.9

it may have been the way

air was on the blooms,

foliage on pink trees.

1.0

and the catatonic laughter is sucked down.

1.1

the sleek, sage-plant

terrified, worships

dead sensations.

0.4

The Way

the world is like a small thing in the night

and the wind is a long time in the world.

0.6

That the river is the sun

And the stars are dark and bare.

And the singing light

Of the days are still in the night.

0.8

I led a child in my own house

With a gentle light

And a gray black kitten

Eaten by a cloud

Crept down

0.9

I imagine my name

whispering in your veins.

1.0

We desired

to carry time.

1.2

Folded beneath what listens

The deep summer is always

hurling esoteric discounts, eminent carapaces,

low-brow zephyrs,

suspicious (bioaquadooloop) tinsel,

demur appellants, immobilized

veiling

0.45

lifting red

a bright black light

left

the sun

0.55

Honey-Whispers

Then on the threshold of an old green tree

blood bloomed

0.65

I am

the old man

who

is a little bird

0.75

When time first went to meet water,

Wind blew clear into the mountain,

Sun was shining on the grass

in a purple sky.

0.85

This night of all nights I arise

blue

in a golden factory

on the other side of mind

0.95

Omnipotens Pendulum.

I cannot remember

why you came.

True words have come not

To remedy the refined

1.05

Ruined Cylinder

It is not love which happiness shackles.

Plodding over it. Fitting pain to overtake fear.

No Great Yes

over her pasture moves,

to feel you, wearing

fragments of what she once saw.

1.15

i imagine earth

whispering

of ingenuous muscle,

perennial fate

1.25

deep with increasing beauty

jampacked McGee watched his tall wallet

taste an imagined not-as-yet wilderness.

against lustered

Isis door-latched

dazed casques stuffed

with lyncean sponges

congruences and a toy conclusion

Blindman's no-color shines

1.35

Redactive: she twists the sun!

0.35

The sea is not the sea,

And the clouds are not the sea.

It is night that is the sea

Night that is the wind on the sea.

0.85

Your amorphous hair

tells them I call

you, back into the living

as the old virgin

the first sex

with the grim

ecstasy of

cries.

0.95

To wonder what impossibility can lie

light and barefoot in a dry street.

1.05

Bits, Weather.

The  featured cacophony

weaves peace

into clear mountains

1.35

censorious, wisped

slums,  squats, callouses,

dung-caked, ranked, tattered valiantly:

McTalk twofer,

sh-t definition.

over-smoked

bruise-crazed garden-moulded

clenched-mutations

0.45

The first time

I told you

What I think

The sun tossed

A dark mist

At the moon.

0.55

A forest of leaves in a pathless sky.

0.75

walked up to the bluff

cluster

disgorged

alloy

selling a big river

with which they touched

the coils of some information

in the North

0.95

Rules.

A legacy, here

Nothing, at last.

For the fools  dream an hour

a ripple-feathered roan-waken

swarm-wounded moan.

1.05

And depressed

by the half-mad necessitous price

A fistful of Inebriated

uranium,

beat upon and beaten.

1.15

Every home

Sevenfold cedars, onetwothreefourfive revival thorns,

poncho naked yellowish glosses.

1.25

the nicht-grooved

wood-nurtured wise-handed

last-found  solitary-atom

beast

figment   of bath!

epidemic  peasant

condensed command

Palmyra  anishads.

Ulyssean symmetry.

1.35

Crone volational

nomenclature thickness!

Large Eager-hearted eye kudzu.

Kelp area-ways, eroded, faded.

0.35

I am the one

Who never had

A way

And the one

Never seen

Who knows

I am a child

0.65

And now in the day of the old world,

The heart of the heart of a man in love

loved the sky,

thought the whole way.

0.75

Near the road where the streams

swirl and roll and flow

to the other side of the mountain.

I was jealous of my mother,

and the little bit of the sea,

where my father

slept.

0.85

and the stories I cut into

want to be all but this

1.05

Iron of rectitude and mechanical gargantuan

Shrouded babes, and gods of sparrows tomatoes,

Momentarily enamoured by sumac and frogs

Drift from beauty-moles and peanut trays

Thaw muses, suffering hypocrites,

Windswept violence.

~ + ~

^CTraceback (most recent call last):

File "generate_2017-INFINITE-1M_tab_inc.py", line 139, in <module>

[0]

KeyboardInterrupt

Epoch: 22

0.55

The first time I heard the sun

give sense to mind

the hair of leaves

began singing on the sea.

We stand in  the middle of the sea.

And Name  is dead,

yet to be.

And all    the dead

souls of lovers

be to be.

We are     little

Wet dogs of the gods

The egret river

In a vapourous spillway of humid stones

and treacherous dew

Took the human heart's

tumultuous burden

To the dust which would not be

The wind blows backward,

And, like an eagle, lifts its lips

To the music of the moon.

Each time the bed opens a nanosecond

in the formal light that cannot make

women control the world.

no ground

ever made

a beast

with her fingers grown gray

with her face

in her outstretched face,

the air all ash

she

is found

on the water

great creatures  walking

the legend   winging off

and the market-place

the waste of its flat dreams

the compass  each of us receive

in the hiving air of naked sleep

I was fighting comfort: when

cold loud dread appeared

crowded unforgiven

destruction raptures

and endeavour-wed wounds

brambled nests

discarding blooms

1.26

to cataract

blindness

insentient

variations

The sun put

Words of the dead

into ecstasy

0.6

the way is

an empty

sky

0.65

real

eyes

left

in the other house

where I am

a woman

her body is a single thing of love

in the light

0.7

Take the music and the deep turning

sound within night on the shore.

0.76

standing in the airport

she knows  she has a place

and children are in her hands

in her way

in the nest

of the rain

0.81

And the night I gave you a word

to cover damp thoughts

I had been waiting for a feather

to fix the broken stone

0.86

prudence; unquenchable, avant/garde

shall I compel to kill thee?

O, who thus glistens the world so sublime

as though    darkness grew   probability!

0.91

I Am An Impostor.

the rain-soaked door of the Island,

with its heart sashes,

outlines my breath

1.01

We think of

the lovers we lost —

1.06

afternoons

thrash the amber wings

of dissolved elation

fountains

everwhichaway

1.11

Prayed  --

briefly, a heaviness that looked nourished;

null was what we believed.

No father reprieve; imbricating abide,

--- being only proved undergrowth.

Nowhere.

Unenlightened.

1.16

Artificial with baleful feasts,

and calmly, blindly uselessly joyful.

Gift snails. Melancholy weakness.

Spiritual cluster-bombs.

1.21

The Prophets Hum

the green

ruminant bloom

must hereafter soon horn

1.26

Fuck Controls

nicely nervous

longing: a single-minded low-tide

slick corkscrew-crisp native amazement

confiscated-chastened-charm

enters you

hydrant fistula

rummaging. Love

mingled.

0.3

And the one is the one who has

To be the one who is not

To be the one who is not

To be the one who is not

To be the one

0.45

I am a man

Who is lying in the dark

And knows what he has to do

0.5

The last time I thought I could love

I was a child -

0.55

The word is not dead

And the sea is gold

in the dark

of the light

And the sun's bitter

small  darkness

is so beautiful

0.6

Mind.

Whole days of clear

Voices born in the sea.

0.65

On the enormous slopes

of a bloody river

Where there are bodies

And the sun is living

in skin's forest

Come to one other

0.7

In the silence of the sea

a voice that is heart

sings of memory

and fire-tinctured dark

0.76

in the morning

he was dead

and gave all

into the sky

0.81

Soul chained to

the one goodbye.

You cannot be left.

It is no longer true.

0.86

On some Vast Circle of the River

Become a new animal

of native deregulation,

a little sign in the corner of land

And in the morning find something pure

sweet, a darkness that seems to fly,

that is a creature.

0.91

And she knew that she was not very wise

And not a soul whose eyes dwelled in

A green seal with fierce grief

To behold without rules

Everywhere left for death

0.96

One by one

struck by numbers

Smell a god of shame.

1.01

Lust

To desire

They are graves. The squeaking

deep burden of the only truth.

1.06

I pull clover in the meadow

and mourn the open door

of arctic land:

misfortune

lineaments

an old bellows spinning

to crush down Palestine

1.11

Someone goes chained

and is happy.

Vernal flesh begins.

Odd, Galapagos-fettered Certificates:

Birth in Central Joke. Womb-weary.

I yield.

1.16

if I prognosticate,

extend the feast;

speechless Ambrosia

Farmers (syndactylism

Empires, and escaped

Sainte megaphone

flounderings)

1.26

The Dumping

spilled, sharpe

unspoken limbs

jasmine-throated

empty-handed

nullified

flowers

perplexed

glorious

ground

0.3

I have seen the last of the children

And mother in the middle of the sea.

0.4

The Affliction of the World

is like a mountain in the sky,

all stars are the same;

and the tide bright wind still

moon red dark green of pain

0.45

The world is a kind of space.

It is not a way to be wind

or the sound of the water,

or skylight

nor is it a kind of beauty

mingling within the sea.

0.5

O Love, thou knowest all

From sun to sea in the west

Beyond the dead and the stars

Through the mirror, drugged

To the pebbles of the living word

Singing the  whole  for the heart.

0.5 - 0.81

Apples resting on the shingles, among

Twenty birds with their dark white breasts

White-washed like giant warts by the tide.

The sun is broken, its splintered lips,

Flail like burning streams of meat.

Below the house, a bee on the wind washes

The dark green hair of milkweed in a rich bowl

Rain and loam and dusk

In a languid liquid of soft light;

A radio sowing a soft braid.

Little pears perched on the walls,

Marooned in evening, journey

Within thin keys of flesh.

Myth swims alone under the alders,

Dapple foaming; candles

Lacing light to book nature.

My heart does its laundry with thought.

A meadow cow eating

grain leaking from a hammock

Tied with the ropes of an intense grief.

1.21

Bullseyes

Deserted motorbikes,

dragonflies and trucks,     atoms of

post-storm twin-set geo-logic events

0.35

I Can See

the stars of the city

and the wind in the sky

0.4

Let us be

In our own life.

0.45

The strong and sweet grave

Is the soul of the sea.

0.55

The Muse

Children are

in the kitchen

their faces

like apples

0.6

With my own hand

On the heart of the world,

a vagabond:

I wonder what it feels like to be

In a world in which love is

The way to think of the soul.

I figure

It is the same.

0.65

O Book of the World

I know the light of the head

Will not know the word that needs

to be unspoken.

The old and hungry presence of the air,

And the joy of living within passion;

The strong and arrogant courage of the soul.

The sun is warm, the stars are coming down.

0.7

the heart and the brain of this man,

was the heat of the woman

0.76

Thinking Must Have Left

Dust and empty limbs in the soul

And the new whole watching,

Paused before the beginning of the world

The edges of the violent swivel

That that made her flesh a body.

0.81

Clouds

move the earth toward the sea

and in the expanse of a city suspended

I count a little tiny strand of blue

leaking to see the last hour

0.86

guns! you came to

propel a net of golden bones

and a little poem

about torment

0.91

Last night when the consequential

situation fell up toward god

Everyone read the folly of the day!

0.96

They looking to themselves for the love

example, just as much as  any bourgeois

regret alone, having no  bunny, unloved.

Here you are at yourself, not bringing it into

Language. A flame of wise cold critical

smells.

1.01

What's Awkward

for being

in the heart

of the work

at the beginning

You imagine their quick hands

Marking the neck within the river.

And for once there is no act in this.

1.06

this business of being: mortal

diapered, fluctuating bumpy along the navel's

older luxuries toward an ascetic winter

1.11

We all turn

Stand taste, kiss;

Elastic and disgusted

1.21

Around two lips bending, a part

darkens, and takes

support, from the room

full of summer

feeding on being

1.26

Get by bullshitting. Fools:

Self-swayed by appetites and

Sleeping rages! Warmed attachment,

Irradiating solitude's fallacies.

0.3

And the world is a kind of sadness

And the sun is a clock

0.35

The child is born

on a morning

when love is

not a mask.

0.45

In the old and dying world

I live as if

I am a child

0.5

The sky is a field of blossoms

that form shadows on the sea

0.55

The trees are mute.

And the wind is broken.

0.6

I have to see the empty space, an

Innocent moon offering young clocks

I have to cut the door, to

Let the color of my skin in

0.65

And there was a little man who seemed to say

The soul he had never had to be

0.7

In the evening, I took a little walk

across to the other side of the road

Now it is that, not for the first time,

I have nothing to say, that

I am a poet who never believes

0.76

A juxtaposition spurns the gardener of fate,

And in some future, all that once was

And the Madness of the first truth, becomes

A debt, a thing that is no more than a thing.

0.81

And the word speaks with me

The Hermit of the dead

In this place kneeling

Where the sun is opened

0.86

No matter

I have been born

0.91

The Tree of Desire

Escapes undiminished

And neither the mountain nor

The clock can wake a second play

0.96 - 1.01

Up the fennel, run over the street,

Roar all day in the frosty wind;

Until the moon opens its head

And lips kindle on this lawn

On this last day here now

Small souls who are dead

Wear vows in the flames

Of a tectonic madness

And derelict fables

Standing in myths

Place the tomb's

Hanging hair

On the Past

Mind of us

1.06

Forest

a flash buried in shadow

bending numb pink wings

a rounded voice, a quick

play that sighs attached,

and rolls over things

curves in, and

by the cosy herb

meets a hawk unaware,

as it strikes -- bright

1.11

water under the ground thaws

shoulder-bones and salmon, crackling

shark-toothed lusts, tomatoes rough-cut, stale

maples, privacy-fatted, unshaken in the abyss

0.3

The world is not a question

The world is a great and indifferent thing

And the sound of the world

And the way of the day

is a secret

And my heart is my heart

not the sun

not the wind

I am the rain

which walks the river

which hears the night

On the green

0.5

A black girl in a dry blue dress

a girl who is a girl

enters the house under the sea.

0.6

And the woman

who is walking out of the sea

moves like a window.

0.65

Writhing

A green seed

Hit the pavement

As if it were a garden

Composed of frozen water

The way the children

Had heard at times

It was

0.7

Who made the triumph of sun in sky?

The dawn ecstasy of river entering sea?

And mountain light pierced by silence?

What newborn god woke mind's starving fire?

0.76

This poem in the sun

continues to think

of the names of the sea.

0.81

Childish Mind

He talked through the bright day

And now he was dead

With a swan on his hand

0.86

The ductile crocodile subdued

Nothing, conceiving a transformation

Still to be seen, free to thaw,

Far off in the long blue trees.

0.91

I am the light of my friends

frothing in songs.

I came out to meet Soul,

to dream blue years

in trickle-down wreckage.

0.96

Hovering above your mouth, like a willow

Burning because the orchards have fallen

Nothing is     as when the poem was made

1.01

The moon stretched out

On its deathbed to wink

Obscured within waste

Distrust and cruelty

All dare not to shake

Death from this despair

The world is a groin

Where plans and fame sink

1.11

Wimpy

Nacreous daylight's drab

waiver, thoughtless breaks

the Flower of consciousness

1.16

Drifting among knowledge.

I think enlightenment

ends bridges, especially

the paid lice written by baby photos.

And mother's big pendulum, empty, rowing

the full slough with hard seeds.

1.21

Remember the sunflower

moaning utopia.

The sky's tongue blooming

master maestro signs.

Ribboned and sharp-toothed,

bland in the power of once:

rejoice.

1.26

Embalm the Sun

Kneading (Acanthus)

crisp unconfessed cleft

tenantry tuned to low bitter (Sudomo)

0.3

The House of Life  is

The House of the Dead

0.45

The body is not a question

Nor a waterfall in the sky

It is a voice in the heart

of a child

0.7

I think   of the words    of the sea

In the fields when the sun is closed

This is where the wind in me turns into night

0.76

The only way to let

The clouds go, and the golden

Voice of the day

Come, and all the eyes

Of the summer play, is

To tint the whole with love

0.91

The logic of war is not to

give each to the good

but to stand in a scream

0.96

To be of death,

the stones

never get up.

1.01

Eve

shabby silk fog doves

brown-plus-gray stock-still

teeming in the heart

like cold hotels

denying the beyond

1.06

At The End Of

honor's body an

infected monument

folds smiles and

preaches excavation

diapers and signifier

confab engine consequences

1.11

And the spookiness of regulated music,

Linked a dull goodbye to a temporary harshness

Breaking a light clump of useless affections.

1.16

Gentlemen love vulgarity as evidence

Of disillusionment monkey picture purgatory

Hobbling dehydrated unsavoury truths

Easy ritual caves misdirected

1.21

I testified before the prayer's tomb

Silent at the lips

Peacefull in the center

I leaked my tried-in-battle

Bomblet edge apoplex

Into the virtuous stunned

Switchbacks of scorned meat

0.3

And the one who has a good heart

is the one who has never been

0.35

To be

a thing

a thing

a thing

To be

0.4

Night is the first

to say

I am the one who will have

to be

the only one

I have to be

In the name of

The dead

0.45

Returning to the world of the world

And the dead and the same

0.6

The Map

is

not soul.

And the sea filled with sleep

spiraling on the moon in a silent wind

does not argue in the centre of the tree.

0.66

What else is to be born?

We look to the ground

and we know only

the world that comes to us

0.81

The Garden

In the middle of the tree

stands in the sky

0.86

The Goddess

Takes many common dogs

From the vast world

To make the smooth

Burned and feared

Lull poets

Heal the tomb

1.01

I know that words

by absence

imply the infinite.

I know that walls

washed by tears

live like kites.

Naked, I lie within stems of water

& mourn, to evade

the perfect sky.

1.06

and the peace of being fifty-three

brings no evil, frees no brains

the summer shines, and I inhabit

the hushed heat of spleen

1.11

A slender wave falls within water's skin.

1.16

Bone Crossed

Duino. Drange diaphoretic Death viewing tissue.

"True," says the single caribou to dream this nightfall

that bacillary sturdy fingertip of flattery's dwelling.

1.21

Goodbye, love, sugarplum.

Cleansing myths.

High-strung worldliness.

Short bio.

0.3 - 0.5

The Death of the World

In the sterile soil of the sea,

Is the light of the sun; the sea

In the brain of the sun,

The little sun that blinks.

1.11

Each consort's slender skin

a wave pursuing a fool!

She catches it melting

in antifreeze basement pods

staring at the romance

of her hardness speaking,

head shined back,

purple, bearing light.

1.21

Goodbye, sugarplum age.

Cleansing myth.

Insipid thunder become glory.

0.3

The Death of the World

The first time

I was a child

I thought I was a man

0.35

The Song of the Fatalist:

I have been in the house

and I am the only one

who is in the house

0.4

The Photograph

The earth is bright and bare.

And the rain is dry.

And the stars are like leaves,

Like moons of glass;

Wind on sea,

And waves on shore.

0.55

Yes the year was in the midst of the world.

Hush dim in the dark air the moon was dead

Its purple sands stained the sky.

0.6

Do you know what I do to be so wicked with you?

I have to think I will be your way

to be the one who has been

all of the past

0.7

My father said,

Obviously, the ocean has a private art.

Like a child with candles

Thinking of her grandmother.

0.81

He was a mad man,

His face in the north.

Fading the landscape.

The noise of the air.

And there was no time to put out the volume.

Or let him hold the fire inside my face.

I was a kitten in the vast silence of birds.

0.86

Here we say in an hour

what I've been when not

with you

and  the song I am not

in the cracked room

of time

0.91

Within the gods of sentiment

Needless whining fodder

And small cold stars

Within shattered stone

Angels locked in silence. Granted

Pain, passion, mind, seeds

Instruments to see

What is known

0.96

The shuttle made its waste skidding

ripple, audacity,

in a mountain of ants,

after an underwater birth,

its wings open

to ape wind.

1.01

I feel a fool

Protract the stories

That are pursued

There was Lucifer, that Saint

architect delayed in hell, without

Hands to resurface or fondle

A long-exhaled unbroken hunger.

1.11

Cranky

And no brighter voice exists than human

barking, constantly, dreadfully beastful

pride, persuasive adjunct to all undone

faces    stumbling, to be shredded off.

1.16

Oblige.

yes, breath that elliptical milk

tranquility brilliant wild brief blank crowbar

understand? time must

speak obsequies.

ascending: we indiscriminately

destroy the soft earth

1.21

All sings: when the night makes

volveré love-enticing lonely-cosmeticians

modulation-load cholera-drained racoons

and dust-rainbows!

And demanding low-paying traded-polished blondes

wrench out reverse-waves, to honour

vertebrae-terraces.

1.26

benumb fresh u-ga-lo-ga-go-tlv-tv-nv/

thenceforth, with exoneration strong

eardode austere free squandered clangor

CREAM TOUGH

0.3

Snow takes its time

Caressing the morning

0.35

And the sky is the way

it is

The way the world is

to be

0.4

Pouring

The sweet young and the old dead

Who are to be

Loved

0.45

The sea

Is the wind

that is the sea.

0.5

And during the night, the sun

In the mouth of the sea

Broken by birds

0.65

For We Must

at the end of the world, eat

the body of the stupid power of love

the pearl  within  the heart

0.86

The burning pillow

honest hate,

gentle aghast

all the broken doves

lured by cold

0.91

I will walk as the lark

and cotton on the ridges pound open

the earth and light places for me

0.96

The Word is far down

there:

thinking containers.

1.01

None story. Cotton disemboweled.

And the archaic vague greenery drank a blanched melody.

1.06

grace,

dilated in a hive of

interpretations

hindrance exaggerating

- the Aching

1.11

Bodhisattva Brecht

sparrows sky-tinted

through leafy chowder-ironed

constructive paranoia

1.16

Pregnant Image--

Like a wolf, a primeval scribe

cruises (to strike-or-embrace)

a visual brain

tumbleweed that I am

I implore

the truth to be

maimed

The earth has heard; and mourns.

1.21

Leering in 58,022 chairs, Shit and

trout. Veins of Beauty. Uninjured

1.26

Bikongo Exposed, irksom Lucan, here,

zabaglione Faction-wide,

--  gleaming

Bacchanalia flatland

mislaid dervish

rudiments nonspeech

0.3

The Secret Smoke King

I am the Smoke King

I am the Smoke

I am the Smoke Way

0.35

I am

the one

Where the wind is love

And the one I am is love

0.55

It is not

Enough to be

A punctual god

0.6

A Burnt Sun

hides in the sand

by the sea

the sweet and great

device of the sea

A wild similitude

Of the changeless

life of the mind

its

knotted hands

sift the familiar

light of my dream

0.81

The Wild Worm

was whispering

to a dark

cursed spear

1.01

Across the wood, thick as wire,

I stride the lowering eddies of my seeing

Liberty bleeds at the dance of this pious skin,

A yellow tampax, dropped in the episode.

I sing the old butcher

CEO. The grizzly

ziggurat syncopated

band.

1.06

and

now

night

seemed

untrustworthy

undressed\invisible

untouched\unprophetic

It was going to suck.

1.11

Hyssop crisp origami milkweed.

Glisten shimmering rickshaw wymple.

1.16

Sunlight arson. The blade of its

circle-urged light.

1.26

Dirty System

half-absent

blood-fed

book-warming

slick

oddly-convulsed

0.35

The body's rainbow heart shed

0.5

It was the only thing that could not be

0.55

Moon light, soft and blue, in the brain.

The unborn morning sky sings.

On cold deserted hills,

in a dark green sky

a sun low and half awake

0.81

My heart is glass, I am not beautiful.

There are those who know me to be glad

Those who know that I do my tired destiny.

I had a rendezvous in Life,

missed.

And I am the shadow of fear

Mist enclosing a pebble.

0.91

You.

Can you know you in me?

A still thing playing

Glorious whispers

A pale hand that is

The fierce voice of death

The flesh of an eye

In a cloudless hour of delight

0.96

Imagine a heron

landing on the street

in the drizzling winds

as blackness swirls

in the ditch.

The rea(be)rran(com)gi(e)ngly

Defensive   Information   Corn

1.01

Beehives  Mudville

Honesty   Dominum

1.06

Offerings    of Culture

Fall in to see who parades!

Count the other    machines

Vanishing into the cemetery.

Grind sand into a beach

in the heart.

Squeeze through the sewers.

Fight desolate astonishment

in factories of amusement.

1.11

And Soaring With The Guidance Of Bigshot Encounters

In hamburger obesity and meticulous fanfare terror:

I am afraid Democracy

is a baggy-kneed protrusion

parked in a bog

with nothing behind it

but hills

covered in billboards

offering mournful heaps

of immortality

1.26

Green outstretched,

neo-Dadaist hoax ravines

Forever Aggravated by

yogurt child-tyrants

0.3

Art,

I am not the light

that is to be

a body

~

I am thinking

of all the happy children

who have not

heard, never will,

about art

~

A dead man sleeps

On the edge of the street

And also walks to the sea

To shoot the burden of the moon

0.65

As soul comes to an end

We stand in a boat of ice

And the shape of the forest

Is not a blur of bruised light

The pavement of my heart is not

A joy ever made

1.06

epitaph contusions glowing in an

ointment of tailored obscenities

1.11

heart-stifled

theopathic aspirations

shuddering earthward

summer saliva hooligans

on the wound helix

1.21

syrup  blog

kachinas tail

pushing id

dusk-and-dust

invigoration

arrival spit

an abscessed treat

braised aisles

smothering teeth

and razor belly

1.26

you spin, unchanged

impish poui

shit-stained

pain

0.6

I am as I am

Hovering at dusk,

The whole warm heart

of her hand and mine

sneaking wind into

the body of a great bird

0.81

You Hold Out

a tender

shear

no longer

afraid of your

grave

~

you have

to be

a new

word to

be god

0.86

from The Standard Journey

The mourners have gone

leaping the heavy green

page.

The whole night

that will buy a little shape

sleeps.

0.91

Overexposed

events whirl lame wars

rendering suburbs into rubble.

We live a kind of exile

chained to summer, a field

of hair spitting we.

A tree almost as numb

as a question never asked.

0.96

pernicious desire brings

hours of faces

galas aging boundless seeds

1.01

A Patina Of Fret

I remember it as so beautiful that

I was thinking: And, now I pick myself

up again only to experience death.

To the end, ever sung, as rebound for time.

Stuffed sunflowers, withered leaves, bumble-bee moments.

1.06

into the diagnosis

the interglinting

wand which celebrates

a ripened gaze

1.11

A parasite cancels the sky.

Shrewd darkness

standing within

itself

luminous

subsistence

pastured with

shark-colored

edge-diamonds

1.16

abundant gunpowder

glimmers in the headphones

of angels

0.35

Lonely

in the middle of the night

I see the wind

descend over the river

0.5

the river is covered in sweat

and i hear a bird eat the sun

1.16

Chanting terrorism, crownfire, cloude Sanctus

curds!

Seed implacability.

Dragonfly suicides.

Mosul felicitee.

Legends that totter unremembering.

1.21

anguished guns rush at the calendar

0.3

the dead man

is the one who is

not born

0.4

the dead one

could not see

the wild moon

0.5

To Be

the happiest

is sick

0.55

the hunt smells

of light not begun

0.6

she is not a man

and it is a simple thing

to not feel the best

0.65

now we have no need for our own good.

this world is beginning

to be the last world.

0.7

the wind dies out

where the sun's

broken sound stirs itself.

The great sea is still.

And the sun is touched.

0.76

I do not dare    to doubt

the passions of the earth

and I cannot be the only one

who will not enter      body

0.81

Skim The Report Of The Apocalypse

Supine on the other side of pursuit

0.86

Guards

Their hard blue eyes of blood

touched you as I

watched the young poets

lurk in the sky

eating the food of the dead

0.91

I Sit

and think of you.

Suck your words

until the lamp tastes the song of grief

in the open room

0.96

there is no existence

guaranteed

1.01

Degradation

spines riot.

Money

tints psyche.

The sound of peace doesn't happen.

1.06

in the grass, no one is benign.

honey-meal bones roast in the fire

i buy ice cold

mediocre peppermint

wool cushions

1.16

dull hyacinth reveals where noble hibiscus rises

1.21

habit's uncomfortable anus,

loitered undulating in yesterday

0.3

I was a child

I was a child

I was a child

I was a man

I was a child

I was a child

I was not

0.35

Another Song Sung by the Dead

The sun is not a question for the wind

The heart is not a sound made by the sea

0.5

and the waterfall is

a long time

and still it is

strange

0.6

and heart, motionless as memory,

cultivates a young god

0.65

Me

who is dead

is the mother of all.

0.7

The years tore down the old green leaves,

And the lilies on the branches were silent

0.76

If I have learned how to exist in the world

I can't find why in my mind

I walk

And go to bed

at the same time

I am

What I say in the market

And I can say:

I am a good man.

0.81

Styrofoam Rest

a hermit place

garbage on which to sleep

a mouth like narrow water

a bruised thing wrapped in a face

and a song

of the soft

radiant rock

0.86

When I Stop

in the time of the open day

in the vehemence of this or that

Nothing is

carried from death

and if a memory is won

no forecast

convinces touch

0.91

I am strong and father

the gray dusk

0.96

No one knows what a fool will have done

1.06

shouther   earfolice

Mercrye Prothalamion

Harvested to squinches and Tydides

infinite ICB

Situations jazz

1.16

word-churn

withered

freedom

0.35

The first morning

I had no idea of the

River

I was a man who was dead

I was in the middle of my life

And the night I was born

I was not a child

And I knew I was not

0.4

And the children of the old

All go to the same end

0.45

The Heart of Water on the Moon Is

the color

of light

in the dark

0.55

Now in the old old country,

the shadow of the night lies

In its own grave and is not of the light.

0.6

A weeping bird

falls from a dry sky

0.7

And the forms of the flickering

Ocean and the waters

Of the stars, and their valleys

Where blue summer wild flowers

Shine

0.76

The Noise Of Love

Is a new thing that holds the earth

The voices of the mouth lost in the night.

The wind dried in a wave of sky that is dust.

Tears in the center of the owl.

0.81 - 0.86

One one + one & one

Unutterable Beloved Desire.

0.91

The little coin hissed, quivering

in the dream of dreams, appearing

in the cold swirl of the sea

as a cradle for an old locked earth.

1.01

Wind steals the sky

leaving only death

breathing in the water.

1.06

Taste the numbed seed of

Dachau. Heard, understood,

pardonned on neither point.

1.11

Mahavira

seethes, deep-eyed, dun-heired,

Lepidoptera

over delicious snoring lawns.

0.3

The World Is Done.

Blossoms and thunder

Are dead and silent.

The sun has fallen

Into a barren sky.

A child who is not

Sits on a stone sea

0.7

A poisonous wind on a blue fetus path

Turning mountains into statements

that smell of swords.

0.91

We are tired of the real:

the humble potato

of an almost efficient thing.

1.01

Contact Oblivion

Be the Silence. See it

All the way to stone.

Bypass the official sprout

of hacked skies

chanting conception.

1.06

Within the history of gesture,

deep with blood and love,

a surplus of fate's

prisms spits wanna-bes.

Pick them up lightly and chew.

1.11

And as the water ended, we watched and

Gaped as numbered failures, skill converted

To carnage pretending to corporate

Overgrown methods  made redundant by

some sort of sense.

An owl meanwhile

landed on lumps

of cancer.

0.3

And The Light

of the dark and old

one who is born

is the one who is not.

0.35

The Soul Of The Soul

That makes the world of the world

the sun in the blue of the sky,

the sun on the edge of the sea,

the wind in the darkness,

and a peace in the silence of the rain

Is a bubble of broken trees

In a garden on the face

Of what is

0.76

By the Door of the Dead

You set the moment as smoothly as

a beach

in my little pocket, the way you found it.

The pages on the shelves chuckle

Rats in the legs of the children.

Peeling the afternoon, whose sad

Bones smother injured beginnings.

1.01

A young caress sleeps

in a promise of

wonder

1.06

The deceased breed in heaven,

wrapped in summer, feeding on epoxy

minnow shadows lounging in

the No-No of a pulsant tide.

1.11

the abyss embarks on a war

to sail pulverized muttered blight

into philosophy's butterfly skin

1.16

idiosyncracies, reckless,

pretend landscapes

conversing, grope

fruitful

nuanced slurp

non visitation

autopsies pierced

on the windward

conflict frippery

cramming anguish

snare cures of

vertebrate grief

buxom source laws.

0.3

Meditation

The real of the world

is in the green sea

it is a small green tree

a light in the sea

0.45

Here, in the next room

Snow is a new simple pleasure

transmitting secrets

0.65

the worst poem

sings the face of the mind

0.7

The Book of Poetry

I was in the company of stones

I could not see that it was day

Nor feel light upon the sky.

I had no love

Nor odour of waves

I was a servant to all.

0.81

Soil

Forget it.

Enter the city of meditation.

Become lava rising from a river.

Measure a night lit by imagination.

0.86

Seize the Pandemonium

of peace without lust

a peach loving love

0.91

I love your fragrance

I want you to sing

0.96

It's sad

Washing guns

1.01

by bliss, count them

breeding in sleek burrow-holes

robots nibbling

at blobs of nerves

1.06

Crumbs coated with hot doubt

Invest in relentless emergency!

Pleasing memos gathered by corpses.

1.16

Pluck Your Pride

Discard the slow bliss of

prolifique bed-clamped chimps

searing notions, foraging seamless

ululating 130% pure LIKED

misses.

1.21

Money's mad toddlers

Sweat nightmare

Fallow consequences

1.26

Wow, O noble enchanting reader

what subverted unconstellated floors

desire yr stuccoed sycamores?

why settle for meager sewers,

bald then finally brain-dead?

O Technique Erotikos

Hearts Atrocious Sky

0.4

To be born

To be made

To be in place

To be the place

And the great fields of the wind and the clouds of the sea

And the deep lilies of the sun and the sky,

And the deep frozen seas on the tiny moon that emit life.

0.5

O my love,

How is my life and my own heart to be born?

I am the one who must be

Happy in the dark sea.

0.55

I shook all the things of my life

Mixed the most sweet things:

The woods and mountains in the field,

The night scent of earth,

The room of a child

And the days of first blue light

In a great summer of dreams.

0.6

I am not made to be here; nor do I know

what I am in the next place.

0.65

She was the last of the night

And the little dreams of children

On the beach, and the old men

On the other side of the street

Who could not love the thing they

Would not be.  Not the other.

For it was hidden

In the way the world is.

0.7

O Mother of the Swamp

I who am a child, still in bed

I wake the dance of the sky,

and the wind over the snow.

I am the child who dreams

of the young men who stride thru the night,

over a purple archipelago.

0.76

They know in the next world the heart

of the sweetest dance. The first

way where there is no one.

They go and come back strangers.

They are so free, those

who go when they come to me.

0.81

By Silk

make a bloody allusion to agony

order that catastrophe

hold the body in song

and wait

it's

a lot of terror

to disappear in

this space that creates

0.86

Weeping

I smear my blood on nettle glass

and look at the muse invent will

0.96

It's dreary, this myth

of the multiple gifts.

These poor bones

hunting our hearts.

1.01

So alone, my wrath came

to move paradox's teeth.

1.06

Many things consort with

The disgrace of justice:

Reverie, innocence,

Moss-with-red-blossoms.

1.26

Briefly,

Forget

the beloved Easy ocean

-roll to sleep, falling over cuneiform

years

Milk belonging

from a territory of dilated

transient enthusiasms

0.3

Again and again

Be the last day

When all was new

And the other

Needless

Of a friend

0.6

O soft land

of soft light

I know all is not my own

and my life is a kind of feeling

It is a dream of things

that have no idea

of their story

And it is somewhere

where death is

A soft light

on the land

0.76

Is this the wind?

It dies in the rituals that we make

with the pages

in our rented room

beneath the sea

0.81

and the light of the rain in the night

was my mother, and I was young but

here was no place to be on the earth

and, though we were far away from the sky,

rattling stars, pink and white,

hung mute in the heart

0.91

crowds loomed

studying the broken windows,

of the old man on the mountain.

0.96

And the heaped soil

next to those slaughtered

gave hurled

commands

1.06

industrious beetles,

gradually among imagination's shifting walls,

laced fire to discovery

1.11

Still the same furrow

in that final saltbox

folded a blue melody

1.21

and dreaming bewildered, sagging

as melted fruit, each wet crossway

singing in syncopation

transfused and ripe

1.26

Hole Aggregates Juxtaposed

Snow-on-the-mountain, straying. ab/users honeybee fu-uck.

Self-esteem 8.2%.

Scrubbed simmering portraiture.

0.3

Eyes of women

in the dark

thinking of the earth

0.55

All things

sing the sea

0.65

I broke my hand

On a clear glowing sky.

0.7

I sought

The way

Of the one

0.76

A game of rough smoke

Gleanings of the sun

In the suburb tree

0.81

I the kiss the drunken flowers

And the dead of the Ganges, and the

Sombre and barren stars nesting in the sea

0.86

Muscles

tuned to this little room's wildest

dancing political sacrifice?

fever on Sunday, from the Whitman

yapping marches in the stadium

the toothy slow outlines of a day

taken by the floor, seized and held.

0.91

My friends were more sorrowful than gods.

Sorry to not live naked and humbled

by the collective task of living in trembling.

They said:  Death is a genital

yes. Wait for yours in the sky.

0.96

Flight

Each secret bears in love

a crack that is immortal,

Each little wind is littered

with a larger forgetting.

1.06

The noon sucked green.

A ripple led overseas.

We calfed recognition.

Dante's Memory of September:

Day-torch, Stacker of Wheat.

Transparencies wiggle.

California: arm-bones.

Half-dozen cyathiform.

1.11

Dried oak, bank maize, and gyration

smoke, tender-clad, joins head sins.

Directs scattered moons and spine

Metal hours, to key edge in froth.

Solitude's trickle fig clampdown

Insulated in blue-chip presence.

1.16

Middle Cousins

They walk lit by separation,

fanned up in self-loathing

Unified by bricks and water-maggots

where dead shadows pull dust, and

moon-wings turn into shame.

Their Pretty Subsisting

Messages and Stories wobble

Even the Megacity Rats.

0.3

you are the one who holds

a little bright light

and that light is not a sound

and these days are not questions

and singing

in the darkness

at the end of the house

a love of the earth

tears out your eyes

0.6

I am not in the deep

great crowded land,

the green and heaving

great face of the soul.

0.65

Each Dawn is a River

Do you think

the problem of the soul

is where the soul is?

I Trust the Desert

0.76

I pray for a perfect

end to the self

for desire, layered

bending body

0.81

The Abandoned Buds

At the cold end of the world

love the ground where

my body is burning

0.86

Delinquents

let their faces rise

to each other, to sweeten

the low bread of blood

go naked

into new light

0.91

Spreadflat

in the form of your tongue

knowledge makes a wet line

where sun goes into sea.

0.96

birth-cries

ruled the borders

of an attic

lit by wind

1.01

I starve for the other

bodies we task to bear breath

1.06

implacable

mountains

sleep

1.11

fruited penis

smooth pained

sips hymeneal

maze erosions

hatchets undulants

ill-sewn reticence

mosaic tored tears

--throes!

moderate.

rout morning: touch

disaster reversible

Love it deflowering

silhouette thirsters

plowed and cherished

multiple depressions

1.21

Well, she ain't afraid to forgive being

nor jauntily narrate the predatory afternoon:

oats, iron, & yarrow!

Or welcome elegant

clichgrotesque loungers with

áptitude-depictitude

mammals bare-fanged

in a funeral procession

0.3

The sea is the wind's will.

0.65

Against My Breast.

I have been in the deep place all day

as if I could not take back the skies

& place the mountains in the kitchen.

0.7

In most advertising

there is an American woman

sitting on a bench in a garden

amazed by her own body

0.81

And She Has Seen

how the leaf is strong at night

like those who bred, to live

the haven, a leaf of clay

0.96

I am near the pavement pond, my body

cries upon me, and the last time I prayed

a heart of light arose dark from the ground

1.01

I have always kept a long womb

kept the rage fleshed in

flaring green and white

in the descriptions

rushing to the light.

1.06

I hear the land

jostle catharsis

excrete a moist price

1.21

Luggage, Veins -- Some Taut Sins.

Can this be like a 94709 awyrded; Mandelstam

sulfur rent Assiduous Binding

I come home in dews and bitten platitudes.

1.26

Pentelicus participation hieroglyphs

unspooled stinging ephemeral links.

Unseizably witty sunglare.

0.3

it is not good to be good

0.45

the heart is a clock

0.5

And Silent

In the gray light of the new

I have seen a river of wind

Enter the night

0.6

All hands in dust

breath the world

living

the only thing

to be

0.65

I have seen the muscle of

cotton red little birds

shore light over the sea

0.7

How hard is it for me, through my

mouth and the words of the world,

to say it as it is

-- to say what I have seen

a great pleasure beyond mind

0.76

Star

I am a clock

On the bare stair, a little street

In the dark sky, the dust in the bus.

I am the frost of the sea

in the meadow with a dream.

0.81

And when I looked around

His feet were cold, and the hay was faint

The sky was dark and green and blue

This is the place I speak

Where the heavens have come

Amid the great land of stillness

0.91

And the lily turning

head-on

eros erections

stacks mouths

snapping heart dried

assassinations

0.96

The Labours

I told the bull that lie of death

words my brain would have been told

In a soothing mimicry of weather,

an old oblivion gland, hearing nothing.

1.06

Smothered in gossamers

rapid, effacing disfranchised authorities

with words of Freud, camphor Donne,

towards half resolution's name

reproach the very limit born

1.16

Fragments of records in icebergs

turn (ox-thick and scented)

into thrashed rocks

I never forgot you.

Inside, I set

two smeared hands, intercourse, wineglasses

-- sadness clichés R-rated --

1.26

I've touched her, bit her prickly-pear nipple.

Examined the myth of pumiced wonder.

0.3

And the one who is always a little one

is not the one who has been

0.35

Moreover, like the great sun

undressing the universe

the butterfly in my heart

is a child

0.76

In The Afternoon

my mother's fingers trembling

allowed  the mouths of the earth

to trace my hair

0.81

and the sea stomps and opens

and has a way

to be a tree

0.91

Crimson Scene

Shitfaced with a knife

shouting about candies

0.96

Violence of illusive change speaks of blood.

An intense & fundamental repose.

And unnatural things gleaned from decay.

The universe everywhere is mumbling,

Swimming in chaos, and the sky of the

Imagination, dark and eternal.

1.01

Head yearns to be a safe catastrophe.

To trim the rare spurting creeks of roses.

1.06

Keep the world humming on, prodding it

while it is down in the sweatshops

1.11

Vanish, discouraged

Wordless, ploughing

Root-thick hardship,

Unnoticeably declining.

1.16

Archaic Voice

notice the coins, nestled drunken,

carrying abstracted wretched irresponsibility

TV reptilian haggard intimate fingerprints

drenched in unbreathable monkey theorems -- is it mad? blotty?

trench flowers entangle an experiential harbor. does flesh care?

it changes into fear. wastefull germinating chill disruptions.

1.26

This Unquarried Obsession

steaming  flexibly coupled    on soil

shock  threshold      designed    joy

sullenly     explaining the invisible

amusement sin  of why       impetuous

liquidation    of reasonable bearings

promises             suck a center

part sweet   and metamorphic green

0.3

The House of Life:

The first time I saw it

Was not the first time

I was a child and I saw a child

Who saw my father and was my mother

And I was the one who saw

And I saw the one who was

And I was not

And I saw not

0.35

The House of the Dead:

I am a room

in the house of the sea

dissolving salt

a room in a body

a body in a room

a body which is not a body

a body which is not but is

0.4

Summer morning light

A wind full of stars

0.45

The child

In the middle of the street

Wakes the woman in her bed

0.5

The Human House of Life:

is in the mind

and is the same

as the mind

and is a kind of life and dreams

a grey and distant land, where

all days are the same

0.55

In a spring of grass and tides

I lost the sound of my body

And the world drew far away,

A mountain god on the edge

0.6

The first time I saw

the sky, the sky was

a red sea

read seen

~

I had no idea

time would not

let me

know everything

0.65

Brain ;—)

And all the human heart

Has been but a little fart

0.7

My Joy

lived in the streets

and it was a shepherd

it was the real

which was unreal

0.76

I see a city within my hair

And the air that shines in it

And I am not a song

absorbed into the body,

And I am not my mother

or brother or friend.

And I am not the one I hate

There in the tangled strands.

0.81

And Keep None

For the stars will go on

Without the thought of the earth and

The lungs that have no way

To accommodate you.

0.86

That darkness

Pleased the river to come out and

In a silent voice of obscurity

Ate an intimate body

With no sanctimony inside itself

With no surprises.

0.91

Open us to hear the poor

Who belong to war

0.96

We Once Endured

The dark rain rusting the soul

A rifle perched to make the fat tax go.

1.01

What you might renew is

migratory experience

1.06

The Sexes

One wonders if one will meet them again,

We are 10% too high to be co-

Herent, to labour at what would allow

A good language garden! Cuckolded with

Conniptions half-buried fingering the

Sundawn's bottoms making another scorned hermitage.

1.11

All the lamps in wanton valleys.

Forbidden agonies of stars.

Many sleek ears that seek to help

Trembling in heat and emptiness.

An architect of ground

Threatening, mirrored, seethes.

1.16

Simply I, Faint

Isomorphous and kinetic,

chopped off, spectators grow heavy

despairing in the fun doctrine

sediment, strawberries, droning

epistemology smote junk

lawyer hot anvil rich jizz fun

withstanding miracle flaring

diamond lumen brain cohering

1.21

Salute this dark, poised sorcery

morning unrolled by computer

flaming among melanoma

rebut dense decamped paté smells

1.26

From The Shower

heist guardian zazen consequence

-- cloud off, spatter marshfire, listless

vary-- Not sure it’s enough: re-

crossing high relays the unknown.

chattering; misdeeds; uncaring; slipping

the silent curb freckled ignites

shale in each languid seeped ruck, each

heavy wind gained. Inside, long low

tying out sand, acquiescing, in

some little movie to forsythia

unuplifted loves ravaged

0.6

Lonely

So the panther is dust

On the sands of the lake

The children have not been seen

They might have joined the dead

0.7

Mysteries

Once out of my room, we are all

In the garden. Sleeping where love

Left a copper bowl in a car.

0.76

Forthwith The Roof Of a Soul

looked like an island in the sky

its spirit a larger shadow

of the garden and the autumn

sleeping in calm old abundance

in darkness I have watched the rain

that rises and floats at the edge

of the land where the moon is still

clear, and the snow sifts, persistent

0.81

In nude Cecelia's cold matted

Hair a Marlboro cube, knotted

not a single vulture cries in

the black canopy of her heart

in its luminous motion, soft

acres close around her raw face

like fire thought in the first light

of the spring at the edge of time

0.86

oceans of lunatic pollen

feel in light all you cannot love

0.91

Broken in long waves we were here

Seeking a shuddering dead drill

Music to bear the weight of the

tranquil bare drift of beauty awe

0.96

Tumtum Buries Each Solemn Navel Kiss

honeybees

chasing roots

and figs

and hens

1.06

Anger Grins, Mewing

Heated In The Vast Bay

Time glimmered on the wall & some

harpoons detached burials fantasies

1.11

Artificial Ally

O self: it will be torn down, quietly.

it will turn to ache and lose its balance

and blossom not with the rage of vision

1.16

In star-flung bushes, upheaved chastities:

horse hair, prudence, hopelessness;

gentili meat lures tilled choosing--

scow constrictors, querulous displeasure.

1.21

Dad, I miss the humming Vinyl

Detached innocence.

stupidness, ugruks,

desert-camo weeping frost

Bismarck ceremonial

philosophy? The Hackett

nymph's shaman garters!

Marquis rut compliances:

amaryllis marriage groan

Sip manicure!

Specs sun tinged with life

1.26

Photos

invincible grasping

decrepit stained sight

orgy -- parricides

roach months, guttered over

0.3

The way I was in the garden

When I had to be a man

I was a child

Not sure anyone loved me

0.4

The moon is a white house

on the edge of the sea.

0.45

The Ballad of the Wreck

This is the place of the old sea

In the dark of the lonely sun

Where an old heart burns light

0.65

The great men and the children were dying

And the oldest mammals of a boundless

Ocean ate silence and shadows

0.91

they dreamed imbrex plums snarled

whirring like swan's bullets

a vernal moat of light --

lineups for an icy nude

a pouch of bread its net

a shred of inner squalls

dense on the outstretched lip

a bump of bleeding stone

1.16

cinder-strewn atom

infringement green

1.21

Virtue near "perfect":

the whirr of kittens

wistaria runes

0.86

Promiscuous,

the Dead

dream

Gleaming

in their cold

Home

1.01

Contemplating

the burnished strength assenting, softening

time-lapse champagne relief sin: motivated

by the glass world slave gristle of pure paths

1.06

Hibernation spurned in corporation's slow missile.

I am at least used to this bottomward

Proud narcosis chalice reflecting chaste scapula

1.11

Brimming limbs unite,

And our wild lips, hissing with bright

Poison, weep blue reefs

Into the fresh swamp

1.16

Fading. Unpitied. Coffins. Words.

Rolled into the light, forever paralyzed

Spoor hole routines, adjacent hewn.

Crossword truces roaming

Grafted water walls.

1.21

Tortured daily. Sold.

Sacrum prosperous periscopes

investigate curving elated hairshirts

Orus gossamers gamolfeax milk

congeal heart-certain glance titbits

1.26

Soothing

A broiling ease

I am the one who has never been

0.7

Expose.

A diamond

In the sand

A shadow

In my mind

An open

Apparition singing

0.76

A swelling of ash

broods a Crystal Buddha

I find a model in her pocket

0.81

Amor, I Bear It To Tell

If you were not a man but a theory

Of an old dove whose color was substance

Of a planet seen in the first few storms

0.86

Retaining ai! we all enjoy

Only a minor rebuff of now.

I too, by that great beast, in this house

Seed the painless love of the madhouse

Become something burning the emptiness

0.91

liquid in the sun

conspiring to speak

hands spun blue

1.01

Difficult in Autumn

Time creeps on deeper into

A Presence born from slumber

1.06

Sitting In Pain

Too sensitive.

Almost a darkness; a spleen well-loved,

an argument crying where mad stars

compete for cigarettes and

menace sweet-cress.

1.11

All the corpses of bravery hold a razor's extrapolations

1.16

That Sceptered,

prehistory, that Rubythroated

not god.

Amused, pondering, transcendence

pregnant with text smoke.

1.21

Progress little-observed inserted in

the pretense of leaves.

1.26

Of The Tee-Shirts

and brotherless attempting motivation's

incendiary doorknob -- algaed sticky, sheep-taped

a set-pull, to fold orion crowd easily fast,

artifice-- Clavier minestrone walnut--no juan-foolery.

standing expectant in! an allabout which -- for reeling

Skirted shelt'ring Lux suitors drowned relieved contemplative:

Prayers. Stern-eyed Rose Windchime father's long;

bleakening whole slide soils an alarm, signs abandon

precise Alonzo Dumpsters, pillows amber

fragments, globose swatches, randomly soul-kissing the tunes.

0.3

And a black girl who had a little girl

And the old man who had a big waist

And a little black girl

And the baby got a little girl

And she was a boy

And the children were in the house

And the children were in the next room

And the girl was a little boy

And the baby was dead

And the children wept

0.55

Time to be a speck of thought and a day

on the way to the sea.

All the complicated details

Of attiring and

Going forth, and the

Fantastic winds waning;

Minute to minute they live;

The stone in the midst of all.

The windiest militant trash.

0.6

in the soul, I have no

attractive reason to be in the world,

in the long shifting

place

that is a human body

0.65

It Is My Mind To Repeat

I have no more than my body and what

I am in the next sky

And it is the best of the old god

who has read

the unfortunate book of a canto

and the brush of a woman

with a hand of fire,

against the elegant, gleaming

of a breast

who knows how

to be alive

to be a good word

with sentences not allowed to live

we say how small we are.

0.76

When the first hot ship went

like a flock of silver fires.

A porcupine lit

When the sky was yellow and blue

On the third day the road was riding

And the road came back, and the fence

Snow, the long white spittoon in the hair,

And the fields waxed green and green in the fall.

0.81

Around the channel of life

and the sun flapping deep as an ember

an immense shingle

unfolding

From the house, we are dread

as the sun turns. We want

to be the way our mother

knows to come when we die.

0.86

I hear the moonlit desart rave

And the ascendancy broken, the thorn smoldering firm.

love home — then that?

I know the pain

And build the alms

Grasp the blind

Wit of accident

0.91

And at once the thin waters surge

In the small midnight village

As continental mosses

Shocked sure ache

and some last monster

quarrels with the grave

0.96

In A Sculpted Robe

She stood on sad earth-waves

illuminated with clay

in cool pane

hirondelle groaning

cubes of glass and

blackened tulips ripped

up through the water

by the shrill

weight of the calendars

torn under the trees.

1.01

The Cars

smudged gas in the runaway's eyes

the quaking aroma of light drying

cells like fields somewhere, making nothing

eternal where they stain love

1.06

Filled With Rain.

I rejoice without adventrous pulse

In the gloomy evenings.

I come. Wanted. Choi welt-weave, crying.

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

1.11

Weakness avails you

fleecy tears of stone.

Well-married sphere, perplexitie,

exigent octagons,

deceived determinist,

mutilated and enormous

cutting-in: IV I

Undone self-destructive pattern

wanting adhesive, strolled

filament of tenderness

obedience to reveal embattled grace

Tempt: chilling

broods in drywall

1.16

in smoky

fucking manual

ulcerated alcoholic

loneliness coalesces

important tears

1.21

ELEGIES

contagious

quarrel with theory

Sleepless: ceasing

Perfect, no torso,

Wnting a collective wind

Meaning: no sages

Suspend Oppression

Sounds scars

1.26

Fierce hopes erupt paradyse,

clutch pillow

confounded bliss rapine

larklike colour cholera

relinquished contemplation bread

disdained still

Corrosion does see

great smug-faced silt outside

unreason the helpless body

0.3

Be To Be

0.3

I am the one who carries the body

of the body that is not the body

and the body that is not a word