Radiation Sick

There's a nuclear plant down the hill
everything is over.

a) radiation exposure causes chromosome deletion, addition, asymmetry
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_genetic_disorders

b) cancer is caused by radioactivity

c) it causes things to get old quickly

d) half lifes from nuclear disasters last 10,000 to millions of years

e)http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_civilian_nuclear_accidents


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lists_of_nuclear_disasters_and_radioactive_incidents

forsaken cataleptic quid

I'm nervous
there is too much silverware
in the drafting room
and the attic is stuffed with old canvases
painted by some madwoman
who I met in Los Angeles
that has since turned to drugs
to escape that miserable flight
into sober matters
that cannot be controlled
nor conveyed
but with sobbing

My liver got the worst of it
after three months of harsh winter
trying to forget those places
where they stuff people into boarding halls
and expect them to smile
for the sake of manufactured consent forms
swirled in at those moments of crises
when the madness of folks
intervenes in the life of an individual

I got a fifth of vodka here somewhere
and I'm wondering now if this is that water
I was promised in that prison
where the birds would come around
in fey slips of spent fabric
during those long waiting visiting hours

But unlike water
it moves
through an ocean of silver
where we relapse into nonsense
and hugging the gutters
for fear of someone's child
beginning another nuclear war
spread out across the Pacific
but congealed in press releases.

I could fill in the doubt
but I have vapor songs to drink
from the tortured sky's morrow
in the sorrow of those vagrants
that passed like Poe
through out the oblivion of cobbled street corners
after their wives and daughters had been sold
to some counter-estate at odds
with a slash of humanity
they once knew as children.

No I won't change my eyes

drunk in public

Left by with the lore of yellowed books,
dwindling pennies into cardboard soaked with vomit
a passing police officer noticed nothing but my words
in the dark glen
off the side of gravel
where we left our last shovel
that we took from those grave robbers
that had smashed our car windshield
in the vine traced cemetery.

Elementary school where we used our lips
when the fey noon aides
were wet with rage and drugged,
caustic lessons in subtraction
salved by the slit of paper cuts
from heavy tomes
that proclaimed an easy arithmatic
unattached to the body.

Where we raised our flags
in the noontime sun
across those baseball fields
was where we showed our IDs
after the work of teacher's pens
scrawling blood red notations
in the margins
of vocabulary.

Could have spoken
in eloquent lore
about the history of sherrifs
but we'll leave that one up
to the court.

good fortune

Through the landslides
of old buildings
marred with Mexican stucco
exposing peach overtures
us with our hangovers
and small notions
about the desert
with our Pina Colada beam
talked through spirals
I saw the old books
for what they were worth

Supper's sunset
is all we talked about
those genetic helixes
all crumbled over our salad

History left us
in the shape of some earthly paradise
as the future knitted poisons
into the veldt of time travel
and astrophysicists
forgot their car keys
when describing the shape of the Earth. 

pomegranate

A dancer in flame red
through out the emerald obsedian of forest love

Russians in filthy rag
of high flying American corporate tech company

found a rat
in a wicker basket

and were to no ends confused.

True, our split speech bespeaks the edge of that blade
that saw dancer torn open by two men,
that odd girl dressed in black filth later
worn to company picnic
and stretched out before the laundry.

Old armor cracked soft
where chivalry had spoken its last frame
of harness
in the soft mountain air
fragrant with rape.

Through out the West Coast area, it is advisable to keep away from large groups of persons with the latest technologies.

Certain applications have invaded personal privacy via GPS locations and jailbreak to jailbreak.

Cities on lockdown are to be skirted by.

Roman Sweat

Red light and cold clay
lasts forever
in Italian formulation
of blood empire
hewn from architectures
so precise
that its masonry built
that aqueduct in Southern France
that lasted for two thousand years
without the torn burnt fabrics
of mortar and lime.

I wonder
if we crumbled more
to crumbs of bread
in the somnambulism
of nationalism,
could we scrape from the old Forum
the tessellations
of new Demeter?

Minerva cast her too
through out the great scythes here
culling grains
for the broken months
as tasteless as a poor cat's calls.

Ocean Taxi

Waters boiling in sequence
around the elliptical bow and stern
with robes worn in tatters,
planks bending in teak slivers
as the captain quails before starboard
latitudes that suggested paradise.

We left
like any old day or fresh night
into the deep

and found sunken orange
and snake wires tangled around
the frames of dead cars pulling
down the weight of soft shell
memories in twists and turns
of escaped bubbles
in a dead scream never heard
below the waterline's mark.

Light dissolved through the murk
our kerosene spilled like rank particles
into dank seawater,
a greasy wick all that was left
of that proud vessel
as it and man slid down
through ends of light
and the envelope of a maroon
lain in ocean trench
the size of any dead's old star
wrapped in the wormwood
of an afterlife so pressured
that any submarine there
had the chance of a child's drawing
shoved into storm gutter

Like laughter our death bubbled
through Neptune's dead champagne brunch,
our life,
a wedding that never happened much
but in some dream as non-existent
as that St Elmo's Dutchman
flying out on phosphorescence to scorch
the nightwatchmen with boiling radiation
and to scour our rest
with the infection of the mysterious.

greeting card

A gift card sent
with watercolor depictions of chrysanthemums
before a bleary Mexican shoreline
could make a young man
filled with fury.

If you can't follow those pieces of semantic impressionism
don't.  Send out a Christmas card then
for gods sake
use slanted cursive
to convey absolutely nothing
in the loveliness of empty traditions
that bespoke confused idolatry
and idiocy
in the face of a few dusty locations
where a few families you knew of
got stuck at piece-meal jobs
while you remembered only
to thank your masters for being such pigs.

people

what on Earth,
gasoline whip with child
in the backseat, windshield
and a mom with bangles
some torrid shaved barking father
going nuts in front of a bag of Fritos
while Rush Limbaugh rants in drug induced shock
and fury
at delusions.

sometimes the robin would chirp
from a thin dead branch
in that time between the deadliest winter
and the foolish spring.

at the store hours
they placed horns on their heads
and smiled like a sick joke
but being sheltered
i laughed at their slavery
for it all seemed like sad sex
left six months behind
in a sea curdling with toxins.

you could have believed
in heroes and heroines
way back in the past
but looking at these people on the roads
in their cars buying hot dogs in the store aisles
how could you believe in anything at all>

near death

so close
this morning
to breaking down
physically

that i raided the medicine cabinet
and forgot all poetry
until I drank this great green tea
listened to the radio
and forgot about the gangs down the street

and wondered what the hell to do with the people from our past

crazy in love
am i