Poem 133: Lake of Fire

Cuckoo birds and souls of the damned
in their wobbly flights
once again--tomorrow--
will have made their laborious journey
through untold hells
forcing themselves
through the bowels of elements
to be seen

in the form of exploding nugae
and flaming trifles

which is all just the signs
of their yearly splashdown
back into the lake of fire

like many such brief returns
to the realms of light
it's over in a flash

which doesn't mean
it can't blow your face off

Poem 132: Ghost

A meth-ghost she was
at least I thought it was
'she' but truly
it skills not
to gender the meth-ghost

as insubstantial as a bag of bones can be
a carp-like mouth
skull in jagged detail
hollowed out eyes
almost too
fucked-up to see

but human I suppose
and I suppose American

though there is nothing to be found,
nor shall there be, in terms of relief
no coverage for her methed-up teeth
or any plan
for the physical damage
of which she is somewhere near the center

Poem 131: Do Snakes Like Chocolate

Mr. President, do snakes like chocolate?

We moved Daniel to the barn
when we discovered him burning daylight
in front of the studio

he made for the logs
but it was a charade
we all know there's no work back there

we gathered is long oily ass
into a wicker basket
put the lid on
and moved him to the barn
laid the basked on its side
and removed the lid:
and I am proud

to report that Daniel crawled
right into the rat hole
under the rabbit hutch

this was two days ago
and that is why I have to know
if snakes enjoy chocolate
for be he never so lazy at eating rats
I do not wish to harm
poor Daniel
or otherwise jeopardize our relationship
by killing him

and I am going to have to lay some traps

Poem 130: He Sees Faces in the Glass

I see faces of blood
faces of bone
faces of sphincter-like
aspect
horrible faces of stone

faces of meat
faces of crème brûlée
and of meringue
in an advanced stage
of decay

revolving faces
shifting melting
features rearranged
utterly the eyes
however
have not changed

Poem 129: Heat

I stopped watching
when the well exploded

not because I disapproved
but because I was tired
as hell

for reasons which have nothing to do with this poem

in any case
I had seen it already
and remember everything

Poem 128: The Earth!

it's a miracle!

a spherical miracle!

an empirical
spherical miracle!

a lyrical
empirical
spherical miracle

!

Poem 127: FRAGMENTS OF GAWAIN

   gang /gyng

GATHERYNG

here @ midnight

the devil tells his matins

while according to the Wif

it is the Freres who say their matins

these unmagical incubi everywhere

banishing marvels

from Arthur's kingdom

but in the Tale is it a knight

who rapes a maiden

by a river

abalef...

ABCDEFGHIKLMNOPQRS
...arrested

The knight as monster:

reversal of escapist horizon

      So much for Gudrun's archaeological dig!

AGAIN, somewhere

with the forest's curtain drawn

sat the Green Knight

sawing sewing his head back on

but if the Green Knight is Dionysus

what does that make the King?

(Long ago, Pieris established the song as king.)

between these heads

between these famous heads

keeping clear, at last, of their age-old

unspeakably slow

battle à outrance

    to and fro, protected

    as well as might be expected

    behind a single name

    abalef run the fragments of Gawain