"what unreliable
fortune!"
the bronze mask foretells
a granted wish.
"that squirrelly
rascal who defended his money based on numbers and licks
a body caressed with
growing sores
living excrement
fumigating the stringy marriage
wafting scrawny brains
over the stovetop dream
fanned and purring as the
Lynx
whose stormy eyes behold
the revolution
behind the First Kingdom's
daring ring"
a truth, bold yet
sarcastic
staring at the one-eyed
shrinks
whose businesses flop
overnight among lost wedding rings
searching through pipes
that mourn and feel for rain
in the sandstorm cuss over
headphone radios
adjusted to receive the
millions' antennae
stolen by the brash, false
theocratic winds
that like mist, scour and
deprive our roasting flesh
inside these holy ovens
conjoining twin lovers
in the rustic maze
factories
purchased from fish-winged
corruptors
who bribe and talk their
way beyond the darkest horizon
resounding with mother
tongues and forgotten poverty
a lonesome education,
boasting over the loudspeaker
to overthrow what is wrong
and destroy the selfish malaise
that stares us in each eye
everyday
as we wake before
television mortality
and so we, following
traditional community
rant asinine
like swallowed mice or
frantic insecticide bugs
thick with a failing
drear,
overwhelming and
deliberate
grinning before death
freed by sudden predators
who appear from nowhere
afraid
stuffing vision into the
foamy dark clouds behind our eyes
and lunging finally into a
dusk so remote
as to be buried in a
sanctified purity
musing and paralyzed
before these footsteps, grazed by holy goats and bulls
knowing the escalating tribal
fount, that wise and sure prepared a tombstone
blessed by the greatest
personal lover
to write eager opulence in
our heaven-sent wars
lifted and proud
"we stalk ageless
goddesses with rifles and classic brawn
raising our young to be
orators, producers, and ceremonialists
who rouse tradition from
the sleep of the father's mind
and elegantly replace the
mother's key beneath her oil-doused pillow"
whose subconscious
weakness found wasteland archetypes in the pivoting mold
firming its spot over a
government home
becoming woven in a
mescaline-inspired design
towards one verse that
drank its own androgynous fluid and reasoned with the self
to depart into shadow
diverse in mind
yet with heart, always
uniting under the waving sun
his flowing shores, her
rocking chair
and the certain calm that
displaced a weathered hurt
craved over frozen stones
living with smoke
over the ancient elders
voting and leading
democratic births
throughout a pirate's lore
that spoke in every word
on these futuristic, gold-swept lands
ruined with a history,
obscured
"where words exist as
bones and sculpted mountains
fire myths into the freed
air"
running up cliff-sides
ecstatic with spirit and
aromatic health
a restful cyclical
completion
feeling necessity as an
opened circle
renewed daily with orbital
trust
to tell a life story
without rush
silence, meaning, space
to breathe and find
emptiness fulfilling, with round perspective
a heritage, dipped in
honey
still, chasing modern
vertigo
sleepless with profound
need
basic, on display
inhuman drives into busy
roads
leading to other strange,
fleeing ruffians
whose blood gives
answers to the prophetic
orgasming mystery
feminine and wide-awake,
covered in dead leaves, unafraid
waiting yet wandering in
mind and thought
to behave fresh and lost
to conversations
caught on tape and played
to street-side roamers
who weasel money from
pockets
changing colors
fraudulent skinned men
showering under a
microphone
uttering gibberish
and pouting in medieval
languages
while undressed wives
commit to books
long with emotional
vagrancy
leaving behind their
intelligent rhymes to dust clothes
bleached and stressed with
wrinkled faces
blow-dried and ironed
beyond disgust
for a droop of skin or
unfitting lash
and the turmoil,
scratching on skulls
pulling sockets out from
raw chicken-liver veins
tossed in a rainbow salad
to be shoved up the ass of
squealing swine
who make their mark each
day to the Machine
giving tours to bombshell
parades
while ransacked homes
dirty with religious names
and so they rinse their
hands in the extroverted infirmary of the new colony
ventilating their earlobes
over carcasses
exhumed with blameless
strife
(a pleasing response from
the museum audience)
whose beer-bellied
versions long outlive the trampled voices
calling with unchanged
passages
within big-chested songs,
and visionary flames
dancing over feet shaking
with male fertility
and predation, striking
artful technology
crystalline, aside
skin-tight heart vices
buzzing and scraping
violently
into the demonic peace that
surrounds and escapes nightly
from the earliest
staff-worshiped
looming curse, heard
echoing
circling, and freeing all
being
in one release
February 9, 2011 Chinatown Calgary
Settling and surrendering in the warm breadth of her eye
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