Saturday, July 21, 2018

you or you

you will die when the bees
sleep beneath your chair
you will die when the bees
wake up beneath your chair

you will sleep when a leaf
grows beneath your tongue
you will sleep when a leaf
burns beneath your tongue

you will speak when a hammer
turns in your cheek
you will speak when a hammer
splinters in your cheek

you will remember when a window
melts in your back
you will remember when a window
shines in your back

you will eat when the floor
is red with ants
you will eat when the floor
is black with ants

in tlilli in tlapalli

lake switch

words before cold the door
inches remnant of sleep
lacustrine syllables or some
thing wet his legs a grassy

shadow creaking in a labyrinth
of rivers comb your pants and
eyes writing breeze wrapped
in a mask's dense ants scarred

with dust with liquid words
bloody overleaf at the
fingers' origin tossed out the

entrance wet Intensive Care Unit's
gasping fish depronouncing a
red hieroglyph writhing in gravel

Distortion of recombinant lines from
Ivan Argüelles' Sonnets 39-40, 46-50

Wednesday, July 18, 2018


reflaga s
hade bled
eye g one
flought sun

fog pole

en raft ohn
meatster ssmm
oke p late r

high tree face

leaves or fog

th ink sk
ull be low y our

)a neck in bed (

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

s tick

is fun no
logck but
nastrum gloire

drummy shoe
stink lost's flood

)runny corpsid,,,

was flaked for
exogenous peeling
black stick left

piso de concreto

ataúd del aire
subo por un sueño sordo
a dream being tortured by
Ray Johnson is a bridge of
crumbling bricks the bridge
a gray sky slowly flying ants if
not a person trembling marble
in a section of wind a small
glass in the ink cave your
coins of light blade turning
in water the door's root
falls from your sleeve
[condensate from Ivan Argüelles'
Sonnets 35-38]
cloud mirror your mask of rice and
termites black shirt pounding the
door streaked with oil tus
hijos enterrados foco estrellado
de dolor en tu cara caída
CARTera de legajos del Principio Vacío

vivir será andar a ciegas entre una multitud violenta”
- Juan Ángel Italiano

Sunday, July 8, 2018

sez it all

baw ham
outta heel
flavor rapt
; ; ; cloud mouth

your voice must rise

a grunting phone a
heart escapes fence o
púas fascistas las de cianuro's
gasping lake me duermo
en un balcón de carne
is my pocket with a sticky K
key - deep laundry swallowed -
your thoughtless spoon
sucks in nor light es
capes s lack hole in
fests with flies * * *
tables piled with hair
: ¿what flawk stream wh
at b lank m ask HUH h alf et?
it's a river sluggish with corpses
: a golden mannequin slumps in's
consistent diarrhea

speak spik speaaaaak”

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

slop slop slop

sueño sordo sudo like
sez what else impales
your thudding chest fork
\ aim a day \ inspastic dr
inking-clod teeters on a
neck was moon splashing
in a bowl : your whist
led cork's a loaf a twisty
tune cage ,left contamination
paw the floor & smear
the doorknob spit

f lab
aft er “sl eep”
y our wri thing sn ore

~offal flag drip in basement wind
is your book your tongue contracted
thin and shallow in a sandwich
son de torta senda-sueño sudo
suero de sesos subolvidadizos
, , , depusilánime

s weat sc issors

sw eat sn ore sw um ((( la
bhasura de mi sueño nunca
hojo ladeado ,orbe ghrasiento
en mis dheditos ehmbrionales las
nhubes rhoncan en mi rhespiración
ache con ache gotas de
insecticida en la lhengua de
hule ,lhengua de huaracheh
desandandoh )tus sesos y tijeras(
)con gelatina encontrada en “Oda
a Papasquiaro” de Ivan Argüelles(

the tree is a hand a
pproaching yr eye a
mirror thrown in a lake your
tongue gristle spat on a road

as dust fills your shirt

Sunday, July 1, 2018

wet table
the sleep” - John M. Bennett

chain of suits and ice my
doorclap ,crow turns an eye

use less should er
got th ought me ss


was of f it
fleet bed
,flor time

table knot

uh sh utter moufse bog

)phlegm ladder the fur
nace floats re writhen
molten missive's tongue aster
isk the ant margins clclickk
- distilled from Ivan Argüelles' “Phlegethon”(

(shadowed swim pool
macaroni in white slime)

is the lunch my face
briefcase in a flood
muddy watches

Too late
Hard fish”
- Joseph Ceravolo

fascist head chew

aborrezco la ploesía la poesía
ablorrecida la mierda que se
levanta de un cadáver anaranjado
bocona diarreaesca la pipoesía
reeks of sleep in a dumpster
sloshing with offal sot sweat
sheet shirt is the door to
yr room painted red ,the
walls dripping ink dripping
fingernails POPOCAPOESÍA
smoke swirls up through a
sidewalk's glistening mud
yr sweaty lunch linkage cold
cuts and laundry pool of hair
your wig means nothing