Shimmer

The ecstasy of space

Robots on acid

Fuck me space-boy, 

FUCK ME!

Bloody virgin on a bed of cosmic dust, we can plan an interplanetary genocide or start a religion

But maybe it’s all the same

in outer-space

The ecstasy of space

Robots on acid

Eating peyote

The perennial singularity

Phallus slammed in a closet door, waterlogged in microwave painting with sound- can we break the brain of god this unknown source of which we feed upon its corpse

My mind is glowing

Vulva shaped spaceship performing terrifying miracles of light as darkness eats stars, wanton nebula jettisoned in birth reverse swirling fabric of being and time

The ecstasy of space

Robots on acid

Astronauts in love

A carnal quasar pumping frenzy

Nameless

Recordless

no real living beings here

there are no cages but boundaries

without pasts an  ever uncertain present and veiled future

dire transformation

distracted bv skin and sin

the divine motive looking for that spark in primary colored space-jockeys

switching sex organs, eyes and limbs

lies, fate, false memories

The ecstasy of space

Ocean of the void

Robots on acid

The singularity will be fragmented and unrecognizable

Musta Been Another Spell

I don’t remember nuttin’.
But what the heck, doc.
Check me out.
I’m okay.  No damage.
Guess I fell off the bar stool.
Still, this ain’t right.
I should have a single room.
What’s up with this freaky
Fat ass grinning geek
Over in the corner?
Fool don’t even have a bed,
Just sits there on the floor.
Jesus, man, I think you’re sick.
How come you got no clothes?
Oh god, boy, don’t eat
Another turd.  That’s gross.
Quit climbing up the wall
And rolling across the ceiling.
I can’t see how you manage to
Stay up there.  Don’t drool, fool!
That’s nasty and it drips
Right down on me.  Don’t do
That damn horse’s cock dance.
Quit jerkin’ off and shootin’
A jizz wad across the room.
How do nuts like you get in here?
How the hell do I get out?
Look here, you whistle dick moron.
I swear by Einstein’s glowing balls,
When I get this straight jacket off,
I’m gonna kick your ass. 

many doors to hell; open, all of them open

all of them inviting you inside,
the air so cold it hits you in the chest
like a fist, a hammer alongside the head,
the room spinning like a “Strangers on
the Train” out of control merry-go-round,
all the overhead lights flashing, disorientation
complete until the guess-your-weight guy
hands you a card and points down to the pit
where the mud wrestlers are grappling in
the muck, the packed-in-tight crowd
placing bets, money clenched in their fists
as they cheer their champions on as if
the women were not human but fighting cocks
and this was a winner takes all contest to the death
and all the blood splattered on the walls was 
not forensic evidence of some horrible crime
you have witnessed and participated in,
hand still clutching the card given at admittance,
the one that says GOOD FOR ONE FREE RIDE
IN THE TUNNEL OF LOVE, a voyage in the dark,
the ride of a lifetime, a ferryman waiting inside,
holding a lantern, beckoning for you to follow. 

holiday spirit

amazing ass
naked
on her hands
and knees
on her unkempt bed

writhing
clutching
unhung
christmas lights

amazing ass
illuminated
by youth
and a rainbow of color

crying out to the gods

i was only 
twenty years old

and
the holiday spirit
had never
come
harder

for me.

traumabonding dumpster clown love song II 

I think you grew up hungry. 
Corners sliced off a stick of gum precise as cocaine.
each fragment savored 
as your concave stomach growled
I think you grew up watchful.
rolling weight toe-through-heel on creaky floorboards 
diving for cover when the door unlatched
praying to no god- 
let me be gloriously lethal
and poison-frog bright
let me bask chuckling in a knife’s cold kiss 
my saunter a warning 
my smile a threat
you flinched and shivered. scrambled to obey. 
dreamed of ripping throats out with your first baby teeth. 
I think that’s why you laugh when someone lunges 
fists outstretched. 
you’ve reeled them in 
invisible strings sticky as a handprint on a child’s slapped cheek
even a clean hit whispers:
skin on skin

Show Time

the parking lot lights
cut pale skin and
black jeans
outside hotels waiting
for a fix, a cure, a remedy
to that disease called regret
please stranger just fuck me
with no eyes, no love, no hope
it doesn’t matter
it means nothing
I’ve got a death wish
a sex drive
a self injury
so when your hands
are around my throat
your grip is never too tight
if I am still breathing

December

Sitting naked
I am smoking on my couch
Holding pen

Journal out and open
Counting syllables
Holly on the mantel

My muse, my love
My cockslut postal patron
Cuckoldress
December

Drifter

We talked on the edge 
of a cliff—somewhere 
you & I had lived for 
a long, long time.

Your eye held a knowing,
& although I wish I knew
what it was you said,
that look was the same as always.

Then you left the ledge.
I watched you seep into 
a black shallow creek bed,
beneath lay the reflection
of the moon—fragmented
from all the small & large rocks.

You came into my life 
at the perfect time & then 
we kept each other for a while.

Thirteen times around now.
Thirteen rotations watching 
each other grow & yet, 
saw what never changed.

I have to go – I have to go
retrieve your body from
the bottom of the cliff.
I have to make a sled
out of sticks & drag you 
somewhere I can dig—

& I’ll dig, through rock & root, 
multiple lifetimes of sediment,
under deep for a safe spot to 
finally put down your bones. 

Trigger Warning

Warning,
this poem
may contain
language
and images
which may be
disturbing
to some
readers.
The words
featured
are performed
with the writing
of professionals
and should
not be attempted
at home
without adult
supervision.
Reader discretion
is advised. 

Stay Up With Me

all the stores are closed
but we have enough smokes
to fill the ash trays with butts
to pace grooves into the wooden
floors, to peak out from
behind every shard of broken blinds
to dance sinister, our genitalia
angry and corrupted with every thrust
to rail crank until the end of the week
sitting idle and naked, the breeze
from the broken window alien
on our marble haunted bones

I know we haven’t eaten in
like three days & I know you’re
getting tired of the moonlight
& I know the director has
been beating on the door
for the last twelve hours
he must be mistaken, I guess
he thinks the party is finally over

but I don’t know how to stop
& you don’t leave the bed now
without it and our skeletons
only know how to sway in
chemical patterns; we have
forgotten how to greet
the sun-shined world
with anything that isn’t disdain