ending with rust

it rusts, oxidizes to the color of dried blood
on lips full of sacrifice. the sacrificial knife
stained with time's leavings. sharpen it
to wit, a throat exposed and giving
skin on skin and living\lost in time, a shriving.









lay down next to me, a hindrance to be
overcome this space between us with a feather
lost from flight, an entrance into night
no wrongs to set aright/ until we see in different light.







































the red planet the planet of individualism
the symbol for male, dominance, the ram with a knife
in his hand. you were ruled by this
until they found an icier place to put you, lonely
and watching the two year dance with a frozen lust.
slowly you move towards the core, trying to become
not one, but the one. you hate it when i get all esoteric.


i'm looking for a healing ointment
a balm to soothe these self inflictions.
i try to call up venus but it's morning now
time to get up and grow my own individual snowflake.
the one who is becoming
says to the one who would be seperate
hello. nice to meet you.
how hot the sun's fresh greeting.




they call you evil
but you just come to my heart
differently from the rest. which is the planet
of the judges? o , that would be

a woman upside down,
a faster moving crown
a line drawn in the down
this planet that we found.
they call it tellus.
lolol. they called him thot
what the call is from a semiotic pot.
here have a hit.
you'll understand it better then
or maybe not but it's goodbye zen.
















































the old one eyed god loosed his first raven
on the world. whomever the bird shat upon
was blessed with intelligence whatever that means
until the cells so honored died. many men
sought the unsheltered places of the realm
where they offered up carrion and other tasty scraps
for the bird then stood sky clad with arms akimbo
waiting for thought's limbo. but their mouths
were closed. their eyes, blinded by the sun's son
as they prayed for the shadow to fall.


the raven for his part laughed as the scraps
fattened him. the little men and their misunderstanding/
under- standing in the rain of his feces- him they looked
like courtiers worshipping fools. he carried their prayers
back to his master who shook his head shuddered his
shoulders then tired of it, tried again. she became a blue
lake with a border, a flattened out red spot on a the face
of jupiter who always hated that name and her mother's
sense of unnatural proportion which landed it on her--
she of the strawberry on her cheek, tatooed by a goddess
on her day of birth, lunging in the woods of oregon
between trees which forbade any blade. the way she

hugged the bark was sinuous the way she called the lark
abstentioumous the panels in her heart redemptionless
closed to all but those fools, sensuous. the old man loosed
his second raven, wanting some word of the scene.
but she and her children had eaten them all
and covered themselves with sound of green.

























you know what i mean?





























you will
always be my
star, individual
unique snow flake, melting
away








































one more hit on the pipe
because here lies danger--

the thought of comfort
in your arms. they're filled

with knives of bronze. a battle
in your skin, becoming in.

i let you go on a daily basis.
your glass so clear, i see

inside the sweet liquer, taste
on my lips. hands on my hips.

let me give you a tip. the smoke
i talk is mirrors waking up. i give you

nothing more than empty cup.
i'll always treat you like a pup

intensify your growing up. does that mean
we stop being children. up is airy, like a faery

godmother you can believe in, caught
in clouds of nether regions, dreams

n stuff for all our seasons. half a cake
turns stale in your mouth the other half

frozen in waiting. take it out,
time's thaw is beginning.
















































































he built his fence of iron
on the edge of the dunes
where the breeze from the ocean
could pass thru to his little castle.
built of brick. why a fence
i asked as we walked towards the open
gate. he paused, and leaned against
the flaking post. i like the feel of salt &
metal on my back he said
and passed through. i tried to follow
but he caught the latch and turned his back.
the sun was going down behind him
a rusty stripe down his spine.