inconsistant

consider all of these untitled.



silence of stones,
of tombs, of
sanctuary. i
draw pictures and
write screenplays
for no one to see.
if i don't speak
are the tones true?

my ears buzz with your
rainforest of lows
and none of it was
in the brochure.

--


lor' ha'mercy boy,
whut in thuh hail
am ah s'po's tuh dew?
ah knohw yer iyun uh
biyt uhf uh taht spowt
buht jus' how'n thuh
hail iyus ug ghurll lahk
myee a'gunnuh hailp?

--



try to maintain
restraint, i know
where i am, i
should know where
i stand

the doors i want
open are not

this is often
the case.

--


the soul cringes
this reincarnation
indeterminate
still rolling wheels
pulling chains
but somewhere
shines a jewel.

--

warehouse and factory
the ducts and lines
traced out in dusty
schematics,
fingers tracing, eyes
scanning, no truth
written in these lines
and angles. no truth
in the pipes. if i'm
to believe what i see
that wasn't a boiler
we set afire.

--

the voice said
"you're awake now"
and i was stunned
by the implication.

--

who is it froze
that second
a glass negative
stored in the newest
junk drawer so
it catches my eye
serendipitous often
as my hand
wanders past.

--

by the fence
by the lamppost
wrapped around the
bases of telephone
poles, the dust of
broken glass, cigarette
butts, paper cups,
the secretions of cities.
was it a wind
or a weather system
moving in, was it
the phase of the moon,
was it the light
and shadow again?

--

appendages all atangle
sounds shred the dream
but the feelings linger

hollow cave winds
seasalt
cool ivory in warm hands

was there a fire?
a taste of beer?

--

orange halogen glare
on low cloud ceilings,
silhouettes of branches,
hung skeletons of all
our arguments,
wind chimes in the
storm, hollow clonks
and rattles, the grass
has mostly yellowed,
the landscape a study
in contrasting intensity,
the heat of the greens
and the cold of the brown.

--

river rocks holding
embryonic golems,
whose cairn is this?
druidic runes spell
names lost to history

shall we move loam
find a tibia or femur
extract the DNA?
study the sequence,
isolate the chromosomes.

--

i looked through the
windows to see the
past distorted through
centuries-old panes of
wavy glass
just as clear and viscous
as my heart.

--

dreams of solitary
evenings, comfortably
spun, responsible for
nothing and beholden to
no one.

it's curiosity, nothing
more, a compulsion to
know, want to open
the door.

--

the painting was large,
visionary cacophony,
a riot of eyes and mouths.

he stands with nose
nearly touching the
whorls of oil and brushstrokes

saying he can't see the
faces, just lumps and blobs
of paint.

--

i don't know if i will ever regularly update this thing. i don't seem to produce poetry that is not shit with any real consistency.