follow

my winter beard flutters toward
your cunning snow steps

diagonal zig and retrace
or does the heat
wonder where all the cold goes

the wood begins to die,
ash is not what i am filled with

i am a child

stop your sad look
you look at me as if i forgot something

as if i was meant to zag in the snow
to get lost

krzyzewski

that was a stolen sweater;
arms forever

where going west only means
wyoming and more wyoming

vampire christ, hail
marching roman like, around, around--

the death of you
is not forgotten, yet. my mind.

totem truck stop
blown the youth of your

face.

bone-chew

does your god know i
don't exist

the dollars of your can
feed it

who doesn't collect
shark teeth on the beaches of florida

the flattest place
on earth

even the alligator in the canal wouldnt
eat
my mother.

winged it

did you abandon me here,
do you cum in your pants

on the train.

forget every second of,

in the distance between here, and
another here

the voice of my hand
slapping against the hood of my car
pouring coke all over the battery cables

does this picture make you giggle
while you are faster than i am.

fly colors

the saying of flea in your ear
or as all hands, all hands!

in between the fingers he smells
of deli meats,

will you call him, thunder voice
and all, your worth in words

every last word by thunder,
she speaks like a boat

all riddles and sea charts
that lead you to more of this.

Cutlass!

and he slowly slides back
down the hill
more boyish than a baby may--

try to remember lines from [i]treasure island[/i]
to make sense
of your father as a pirate

think
snow doesn't always stick
when the ground is warm

stop thinking for a moment
say to him
yes, yes, ma'am i, yes

but then there is the meeting
at one point
your age or his, the matter

you say to him
things like
this is who i am today

put down your Cutlass!
your leg is missing
stop your dream.

cripple

the sky can be muck,
or think about the girl stuck in muck
near some Omaha lake.

my beard floats above,
strange as pears scatter on the ground
yellow and halved.

axe

a pile of dirt inside of me,
with my hands, nails.

when the moon is full and the river rises;
again, nothing has happened.

she said the dirt is actually on me,
or she has some,

i can cut you down tree;
i can end you this way.

gold's

three men in suits under a deli sign
talk business talk; notice

rich men go bald the same way poor men go bald
along the front ridge & crown

because i am mad
i will separate the river thames from
your shoulder pass

muffling the voice of adults,
the garbled rumble of whales

the male ones hunt in packs
for love

snore under water as floating device,
wake your baby sleep

listen to what the bus stop people say
with their coats on in preparation of winter
or all things coming.

for kitten

promise to call
warn you

when i walk around the apt.
naked

my socks on silent
the cold kitchen floor makes me quiver

i will taste the deepest thick of
you

because i am mad

visiting

scumming for a like soul
can i breathe your ocean air, nebraska
cold is colder than your nebraska.

your copper hair blondes me, gum
your plumb neck. plump my lips from the cement--
i can bite you, modern world, with my fakest face.

the slope of your back with the back hair
goads my hand to nick-it,
can you reach for me.
take away my cape.

fragile in the sense that a man is,
or why i get nerves in my belly when i see you,
a beauty.

call me for a second; call me while i am sleeping.

call me a word like darling
so my fur jumps
& the coats that warm my shaved shoulders
hide great plains from the belly i said.

more, there is an ocean under here,
you can listen
for the train coming. breathe
the air for me,
the jewel of cattle beds.

mr. october

for the earth of it
dirt cleat, teeth is what you got
& swing like a slugger
secret club, do the tattoos you got
say something.

cry because it died, the person
love that goes on a face
munchin' on xanax bars 'til your heart stops

swing batta' batta'
ask the same question
does a team full of professional men
making mad bank
really shock the world with success

it is the death of it
that leaves.

water displacement: 40th attempt

weathered cowboys live in a place similar to hell
guarded by the mother of god,
then asked 'did you see a titty'
& you wonder if you actually did.

your basketball coach drowned in nebraska
which has a great deal of ground water.

we can wait for hours, wondering when we will see
a t-rex. somewhere near york. but that might be wrong.

in my head i said, i said i complain about things
so that people feel sorry for my life not turning out
like my dreams.

like my dreams, i see things.

the drive across nebraska;
hemingways grave, ketchum; a titty.

i saw none of them.

then we decide to go on a rampage with axes
through the lower step of boise,
we complain about the sex in our sleeping space,
smoke our brains numb.

you talk to cats when you are alone.
the desert reminds you of water,
the titty you saw.