Un Chien Andalou
Our hands writhe! Both snake and charmer.
Craning palms in pulsing prostration bowing fingers upon callused
Cheshire  r o a d m a p s.
Our shoulders wail!
Singing 18-wheeler songs of Topeka, gandy dancer stomping and rocking
Fever dreams raze our bleak night’s revelry and pitch a morning
the razor strap of sunrise boldens me ‘burn the moon!’
Damned now is (that bitable) gold and forgotten the gods.
Our eyes had seen the glory
we plucked it and ate, left it wrungout and then became the glory.
What passions struck, what hesitations shored!
The unlocking sweet sense of Scripture you wrote me:
‘shine, sing, kadosh, kadosh et cetera et cetera’
Cradled in kitchenettes, castoff dressings of sickbeds.
The memories caressed from dresses
Come with me to the beachhead the strand that will be
built, silt upon this heart tidied/atoned…
Blinding angels descending your ladder safe in the cold
our heads on stones our youth lights on high beams
We’ve books of blessings written in love-code
Corporal lines from hands to <snake touched> earth
To hew out tales of your balsam light lilac lined heart.
[Moss birth oh andohmygawd yeah…vernal]

Stranger unashamed
closer/more tender than Sultan ‘n’ Turk (aaaaoooowww!)
our unassuming toddling from Eden
*a joie de vivre comme Emile*
mosaics illumined in unhushed
tantras, mudras, white fire        magic
floating undead bog hot heat
sutured mothball sweet
in the cracked chambers of a nautilus’ g u t.
My fingerprints corduroy relics and rim empty glasses of g a l l
served cold on shell-shocked streets.
Choir loft quiet I walk <crow-toed>
brandishing teeth at knuckles and waves
Norse sounds aural harbor a timorous kite.
Gavels silent, Bethel dawn gone now the sounds
[fuzzy hum]
before the blameless tideless shore
Siddhartha leaving the raft there |    |     ||
Sloughing, sighing sweet
(sideline the gaddam shrift in satyrs trove!)

Your forehead presses to my shoulder like a shotgun stock
I remain shaking in my body/ hold to every pleasure like jaws of life
gnoshing through a Subaru.
I come collapsing into every uneasy moment like an unstable star [unbound breath teetering]
while palimpsest lines between us are traced in a tattooists curdled batch of ink.
We fling over the riffs of hot-sake-split dry wood. I see your eyes’ aged lines
carrying my bones to you Sisyphean and lovely-sordid
plywood chaste—(Oh!) an eager Presbyterian.
Fountainous birth we bellow gilt linens
atoss and mangly
mossed and cardamom
we dint upon celebrant tightropes
Epiphanies slowly rolling down     our   arched    backs
preaching to creation: Nineveh’s cattle et al
to return to respite in vineyards        examining the masonry
of ribcages in rest (oh and turn of lung tug’s there too. And how!)
Distill my day, your day, our lives entwined
pleat rooted to grow
weightless-unwrenched a glint of synesthesia
(our touch speaks tongues!)