Dusty hours streets go forth
Drunk and homeless, go highshouldered
In grim perimeters, sootblackery
Stones unplumbed, scarabs and rain worn
Dim with years, packed, dirty bones
Under blue lamplight, run on darkness
Into the pinchbeck steel leaks.
Past sandy cinderblock
Sumac and pokeweed withers in clay banks.
Vines coiled in sprout shapes from cinder
Past oblique china
Painted where dirty flowers rent with rum
Cross from hobbled bottles.
Toys of the damned
Where lepers and the improbable
Bass moon clouds run like ink,
Stamped against a rampart
Forgotten miles, earth clings
A mongrel architecture.
Works of Man
Aberrant, disordered & mad.
The sap of a factory wall runs
Tracking weeds of foul blue.
Filaments nameless in the current,
In glass window frames, a
Moonshaped globe provides a constant helix
Of faint burnt fields
Its rich alluvial bones of cratewoods
& condoms and fruitrinds washing up.
Old time, near the fecal mire of a trackless dementia
Is shorn, skull colored, bleached
Mooneyed birds, sluggard ooze from
Rain flattened riverloam.
The neap flitch of foundered fires,
The dying incandescent eyes,
The wave of the violent & the insane
Living on drama and parable
Longing in dark’s restitution
All within alien reaches
Interstitial and illshapen, a
Fugitive of order
Quiet like a camp the night before a battle
Breast beaten like a heart
Beset by the sea, gate, walled shut,
All kept by the bloody carder of the world,
These bone horses,
Rain splattered by
Rain you can see falling slant –
The river seems a gift
In gifts from stone to stone
Webbed in duel the
Jointed fool dangles a bone
Pendulum in motley shapes
In tender presentations
And in ruder forms