Wednesday, March 28, 2018

break fast

“el fino fueye entre los sig
nos” )Luis Bravo( donde mi
pa labra se retuerce es la
lumbre al revés sever la
sleep del pie reambulante
- sock crumpled in the foot
of a bed ,emptied full
of its emptiness is
hunching steps a
head “el iceberg del
poema” )L.B.( 's your
sweat condensed in a
scissored syllable - it's
the its of yr eye in its
open face sandwich tu
cabeza el camino vestido
de su des vestidez ,papered
shirt's your seeing el sueño
de la camisa misma ,que sue
ña del día del despertar del
desentender de las roturas
íntegras que se brotan
del desayuno

El futuro es de los sordos.
- Antonio Di Benedetto

(a wake)

death slipper
step or cloud

noose shame
open at last

off roof
your heavy spine

and sink
think and smile

your sleep
heat the stone

your pulsing faucet numbs

an excrement mannequin collapses
next a podium maze its maggots
swarm and flee muddy down a
street elongation toward a
smirking doll propped up contra
in a teetering glass box be lie fs
be gon polyethelene foaming out its
face and finished knowing rotted skin
the bearers grunt and moan inflated
giggling as they struggle keep the
vertiginous box upright digestive
rain and thunder gather at the end
of the street

Spattered with gobbets from
Sound Ritual Number 84” by
bill beamer & Jim Leftwich

Sunday, March 25, 2018

pique nique

should swell should fork sh
ould nasal tentacularity or
you jerk yr head away FLA
PPING MLEATS dog's long snore
entibia o me desentibia el leng
uarazo de mis hexplicanexiones
o trabalencguas ,desentenderme
pues ,el mundo se acaba ,it's
just phonektics ,japes 'n jerks ,a
foaming in the dishpan fulla
blood and ,spoons ,eat the
wind offa yr face it'll say
you were ,or not ,some dust and
seeds blown against a wall

outer fog ,a neck
,a lunching on
the steps


meat thumb
wisen up ,sky


the singed book yr th
roat 's )hot cough( stain a
skull 's bent up clown sn
ore's glory sneezed a a a
deruddered foot at roof's

putifacto putiplácido putiplenimondar

dripped off em leg ged re
ductionedist bruma em
BLAzoned EMBlazoned embl
azONEd whisker-like a flatt
ened mask you ssay ? “smell
the hand's bare slaw eye” un
der a s lack d rift of as
hy pages )small bad leg( nim
ias y numenescas ,tu flujo
refulgente )“hot lap heard”(
)dream of a dead squirrel is a
head rotting in a bucket is a
small room walled with TVs
blaring PUTIboca pUTIboca
PUTIBOCA orange drool
pools on the floor a
tiny hand jerks and splashes
in the fli ckering li ght( ( ( ( ( (

lint pages
leg clown fog

Que d'atrocités n'a t'elle pas produit!
- M. Boinvilliers, Cacographie, 1819

Tuesday, March 20, 2018

reflujo y escritura

change the braid que te
habré la boca inombrar the
swallowed it the handwich f
lecked with tumorrosas mul
tiplejado y musgráfico un
sweater en llamas “no me
llamo ni te llamas” ink welt
Tula towel shadow in the
drain yr eye Tollan pues
es lugar de un solo lag
artijo nomás nomás un lá
piz que me entra the ear
)declouded grunter ,eh?(
fog fog fog fogfogfogfogfogfogfogfogfog
¡ay porcentaje pulcro! bones...

se ahoga en 1 ojo de agua
- Mario Santiago Papasquiaro

piedra masticada

el cierre
tu moho circular

el peine
tu palma rogante

diente canicular
habro la bhoca

la llama
ascua del ojo

pendiente es
una ventana hablierta

luz angular
dientes de cuarzo


yr smoke collapsed yr
fofossil a ttornado is a
buried fish upstreams a
gainst soft stone was dust
rising in a dictionary sleep
of punctuation faded on the
lintels your chalky fingernails
broken on a used car rusts
into sand was body of dawn
Mojave speeding through yr
clothing orphanage x-ray
of an empty portal thought
's electric wires fallen walls
yr pupils darkening on the curb

Clouded in Ivan Argüelles'
the heart is a tornado” &
Charles Manson Dies at 83”

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

ésto dijo

éste es el engaño del cadáver
del olvido el shut ham holds
its spoon beneath the floor
el piso era el mar o a mar go
que pensaba en la camisa
de ladrillos con un letrero
al revés DNAS TOHS donde
caminabas descalzo con una
cabeza de huarache siniestro
el huarache tu lenguarazo era
te decía el agua el idioma era
de lo que nunca recordarás

huarache mojado
cadáver del olvido

br eath

shot a w
hand fauce
t hábrete
lah bhoca

sight submersion

a a a lake of pills a your
hand covers your mouth
bear slides downhill in
sleep was stone walking
where your foot once s
topped once stopped
hold the faucet so the
wet don't fall your
muddy ham salad bulges
in your shoe it's the
spitted lake it's the
laundry billowed in
your nostril it was
your eye encapsulation

Sunday, March 11, 2018

plastic fish

the dream of thirsty salt )M. Dec.(
is a dream of a hole deep in crusty soil
a stone temple crowned with
crumbling combs )your hair's thrashing
fuses lit or lit cloud of gnats around the
detonator( dream of a spitting dream is
the spittle of yr eye afloat in a
glass of beer is your hand stumbling
through a submarine your kitchen the
lights went out in heavy rain you saw the
moon tremble in your left eye the right
a damp broken plaster wall it is your
shoe your shoe an efulg ent de-expect
oration thickening in a corner

eye combs
rain and pants(

la cueva abre su bocanube's
suit swirls in the tongue's
strong current fog asleep on a hill
drums under water ffootts
scrabbble alongg beaeach
)“ 'bomb' actually loose wires,
rotting food”( vit tourner dans l'eau noir...
- Gérard de Nerval

the rrules

the shouted ,faucet do
g ,when shirts would
bburn ,a lever screen
,should lunching in your
raewrednu pulley
from the eye ,was ch
hairs nailed to the la
dder was your grunted
lunch ,is a half instruction

- An opening in Ivan Argüelles'
Arbolito! & The Final Punctuation

off the small table in dark tree's
leaves a silver splinter shot u
nder litter was a final punctuation
left in the washing machine a dream
of a poem is sand glittering in a
drawer a b lack ty pewriter hissing
its silence where's yr fog? where's yr
damp pencil? is the window open to a
storm's hot flood a single sh
adow blows yr nose in a m ask
nestled in stones oOoOoo
how far the beach? edge of lum
inosity I itch you itch the cor
pse itch es un sol con los ojitos
cerrados hold nothingmeat
Hostage, nor uneven us...
- Jim Leftwich & billy bob beamer

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

techo sordo

dream of hunger is talking to
your naked feet under the desk
is a boat sails sub
merged in a pl acid sea
yr blood's up bl eachedf ^^^ on shingles
wha t f akes ins ertion – fell from the
rain g utter - enteroendemic scum cor
rodes ah wires danglers out cl
ouds' gritty sky ))vom it asspitratio
n vines thrash your facial o pen
mouth's a shoe gagg ging in a
tree's peom whheeezy
wired feet
roof fog burns

)“or socks walk the water's
total meat condition”(

corner red slobpy
each yr fissured bucalage a bur
sting gate yr shshor t
half drowns the watch
puzzle or hole
buzzard neck

)Jessica Manack dreamt of hunger(

)“A highly cited paper published in
BLOOD mentions the name John M. Bennett”(

lunch speech

taped on the throat of
“time glassage” saw my
hheft injected ,turn
down stairs refloodgent
afterscam before yr
out sock )ripped the heel(
emblazened broom a tor
ch s wept a way
past the wall
yr dog
indictive last chance sore
my hand a blender
churns yr shredded snore

impassible words .and clock

fog noise

louder half a hole a
nekkid nostril left be
hind its lunch name and
corn its guttered skin's
endemic amigration EYES
AND SAND tu fusil age
collaps ant dermicide ,in
dicio de la bocaca plenaa
A CLOUDY CALF s tumbles
thru yr sleep dream of a
calf is ddream of a pole
crowned with rice a
mud-bred sandwich c
rawls a w a y the
rice dream's a toad sw
eating in wind its shudd
ered half a [book glued
to the floor under your

lung door
chew a key

Saturday, March 3, 2018

sleep approaches in its crib
- For C. Mehrl Bennett
& Sheilah Wilson Serfaty

the dream of Dao in a sewer is a
tree bending in a storm is a dream
of a chair sitting on the edge of a cliff
came late taste their baby or any
walked it off she held the start but
brimming love the dream of being alone
is a dream of a wall of light pulsing
in darkness is the dream of a tree
falling out a window the tree a
wingless bird flying toward a
tower if I smell bare or ate if I
held a suitcase full of forks and
buzzing razors if I folded my
face on a dripping mirror , , , , , ,

edge blood
tree on fire

)O Clock Come to Me(

ropa sucia

your laundry was the
lock your tooth broke on
single frayed it was it aws
dot the shape you wunt
forget as eye of gun
an orange blur dribbles on
the wall swa was not your
wiping but a seizure
in mouth wsa chalchihuitl
slimy thought saw asw asw
what slept upon what
washed in ash in sh a

crop yields
megalithic cloud
- Olchar E. Lindsann

clod shaped the ea rth un
last at ,was yr corner isolation
isolettric heaving in the lang
uid seas no more cities dr
own the b eaches deep in
where my templed headache's
crown deversed a burning
ladder beneath yr waves
the dream of an empty house
is a tree bursting with
leaves the leaves
dream a car turning on a
coastal road it was the
shattered coffee cup on a
kitchen floor you are a field
of smoking tractors oil palms
lean darkly in your distance