the sword

the leaky nest is the forked

heel the slab steam where

the green stone nest’s for

king heel leaves the mat

behind’s the head barks

around the door which

the head will be the steam

will be the door barking

at the laundry chute the

doormat curling like a

laundry list the list of

falling what you did will

do will never

lunch was sliding down the steps

the snow

the leave shape the cone the

wrassling in the claw index

leave to say what has sh

aped will shape the ,bone

spreading in the lake which

sweating is ,which tax reform

dreamed in the muddy bot

tom ,your claw your inching

shirt the yellow tree puts

on your bone writing the

sky  .the ax spells all

directions  your bloody but

tons eat the stars the stains

at the end of words

  

...who has his own ax...

- Temple of the Four Lintels,

Chichén Itzá, year 881

the mirror

my shoe in the water

nods in the water in

the water was the air a

ball point pen the end

was pen dulous in the

water’s water was the

stone tree the green

stone tree was my

leg my leg’s water

leafing the path the path

was leaving left ahead

which was before

behind the water was my

nodding hand my lifeless

book alive and soaked

beneath the tongue