Poem 118: Another

From the North Sea
This day hurled up
Is a second prodigy:

A double-headed dolphin
For the nones


Nature yaks up monsters I suspect
Attempting to correct each new imbalance

but she'll never catch up

Poem 117: A mystery

the faceless fish is risen from the eastern abyss
his featureless snout unveiled in death
like a prophet
torn
from his purblind
pressurized domain
and through a full two miles of bends

I dare not guess what this portends
but I am phoning each of beloved ones

I don't care what time it is

alerting them
the faceless fish is risen from the eastern abyss

6/14/17

Poem 116: Smoke signals

Let mean hot toothy mare edge off true minds
add meat impediments
Love snot love
that altar swine: it altar rage unfinds.
Orb ends with thee remover, Tory move.
Oh know it is a never-fix, said Mark,
That looks on 10 pests. Andy's never shaken.
It is this tar to ever re-wandering bark
Who's worth sun, own although his sight beat taken.
Love snot x fuel
thorough seal lips, sand-cheeks
With thin his bending sick ill scum, puss, scum.
Love alter snot
with this brief our sand-weeks:
Butt-bears sit out even toothy edge off doom.

If Thisbe err, or end up omni-prooved,
Aye, never it.
Norn, Noman never loved.

Poem 115: Like You Even Care

But, sir, yesterday's poem
was eaten by crickets

you have never seen a poem
eaten alive
by crickets?

it is like poison raindrops
hitting the new butterfly

like a lost baby
somewhere
in a city of flames

like the shriveled hippocampus
of a madman

like a grandmother's
blank stare
before during and after you were there

that's what it's like, cabron

Poem 114: Nayenezgani

Nayenezgani of the Diné people
sang:

'I am the slayer of Alien Gods.
Wherever I wander, before me white forests scatter.
Lightning scatters them, but I cause it.

I am the Child of the Water.
Wherever I wander, I leave white waters scattered behind me.
The tempest scatters them, but I cause it.'

With this song Nayenezgani
waded into battles
with wind and lightning
he scoured the earth

With his little brother To'bad'is'ki'ni
helping
singing the song
he sent raving monsters
into the abyss
devils into the flood.

That was a good song.

Poem 113: too tired

 I wish i could lift my hammer
And forge for you
in this hellish smithy
A favorable song

One that would make
Your big ugly head
Explode

But I
Am Too t
ired

I'll have to do it later

Poem 112: Sophokles, Oedipus Tyrannus, ll. 1-13, etc.

O CHILDREN
of old from the Kadmean line
what brings you even here

strewing the porches of the shrine
with laurel branches
wound with wool
and assuming the contorted postures
of supplication
?

The city's air is choked with incense
and heavy with groans
and the murmur of prayer: therefore
I must know
from you
what is up!

*
...such was, and is, a good thing
for a king to request
of his suffering people

even if the answer
will ruin his house
and cause him tear out his eyes
and send him forever
alone
to his shrivelly place