Horn and Hum-Drum

a dry devil's claw twisting in late winter's sun
imagining Denmark with a lover to walk with
grim Baltic shore to knee deep sphagnum damp
stumbling upon a picnic for Beowulf and his bugaboo
sword sheathed in flank like a shipped oar
secure and ready for storms



a swan above in star-etched light
bathes the dancers in the desert's night
on true love's wings then they take flight
hearts singing with all nature's delight



pour one part blood and one kerosene over ice
it's a fine spring for a dead Russian
sprinkle their skull fragments like wedding rice
these barbarians rolling dice
from their frozen forests barely civilized
let's show them the true price
of fucking around with Paradise™



Los created a globe as it were
so spake the Blake about these matters
a simulation theory's for
coffee shop mental masturbators
Solipsism in a frock
might as well stimulate a rock
love it up and either way
you've got a stone at the end of the day



he's everything she never wanted
drunk and silly and full of shit
this isn't what she dreamed of no
at least not how she remembers it
this shabby hairy smelly beast
roaring madly at the East
a veteran of nothing but rum and loss
she dresses his wounds and pays the cost

A Fine Day for a Little Rage

Being unique is nothing so special
said the chrome snowflake to the steer
when we arrived we were machined of rare metal
mirrored glass and crystal clear
an automaton designed to beat the devil
but we're just a nonbinary queer



russet twisted juddering
like a football lump of tarry phlegm
inside our side this malevolent thing
we feel it there and we can't sing
a spot of pitch-pocked bedraggled meat
it weighs a ton we drag our feet
trudging ever on it seems
no hope left on which to cling



gross or revolting foul or foetid
happiness joy glee or contentment
poetry writings songs lyrics or verses
cars trucks trailers buses or hearses
Synonymous identical coincident apposite
think of come up with inspiration then draw it

Un Cuña de Estrellas

                cursed
or blessed they seem the same
the worst
"this one has a star in their name"
never first
except for number one in pain!
muffling footsteps in the rain
lean into hypomanic self destructive grain
it's easy to drive them away
                    just
                   burst



a growth emerging in winter's lee
as wind picks up and blows to spring
changing beat to ecstasy
sex and birds and of course bees
a wanderer sets out to see
if they can move eternally
perhaps then they will break free
of the tedium of society



it's better to stay alone
nobody needs to see the show
what's left behind when we go
to meet our sister in green robes
we'll meet among the tombstone rows
she'll hold us tenderly and close
silent as a withered rose
she will gather up our bones
and take us to our green home



rattlesnakes coil—humans plan man's inhumanity to man
lizards hunt and sun on rocks— humans prepare for war
snakes lay in wait and surprise attack anyone they can
tortoise munches on a cactus, she's seen it all before
when humans kill each other we don't deserve our hands



Darth Vader and Grindr are Trending
so is the world possibly ending
Ukraine fighting back
Putin's unprovoked attack
some fentanyl casualties (we're decades past crack)
a kid likely shot up another school
our leaders tightened their grip on rule
this is the flavor of news



she ate only raspberry grenades
or the devil's delights on Saturdays
lash and lick her tongue a slave
to heroin mists and cranked-up haze
each lightbulb paid for on layaway
her body a rocket to her ennui's grave

War of the Noses

their birthing chambers are laboratories
shacks standing out in the sun
you'd never know what's below
but they're measured in megatons
this peaceful land enchanted skies
the mountains pink and grand
will become man's greatest firework
mere minutes before the end



unfound and drifting nowhere near it seems
these wistful longing errant dreams
few love passion as a poet it seems
admittedly wild and rocky streams
the constancy drives them mad
babbling in cheer or sad
yet never once a silence dear
not til the wind sears all throats sere



Why should we care about world war three
Doesn't seem it would care what we think
We're barely aware of what we should wear
for a swim in Odessa's warm drink!
We heard a cat spoke to Pushkin out there
about Lyudmila and some glory and stuff
and for felines we'd care but we are aware
they were sent from Cerro Chalten above!



The vicissitudes of life can be a joy
they can also one's own heart destroy
an errant word a thoughtless gift
such simple things can cause great rifts
and break apart what was meant to be
leaving a love for the ages lying casualty.



birds seek out and sing of true love's song
while men fire bullets from their guns
to spurn true love won't right a wrong
not while wars are fought under moon and sun
love could conquer war, they say
but not if it is thrown away



Love is short and fickle though
it departs quickly and arrives too slow
happiness ergo is brief
while most of life is no relief
all sorrow pain and tragedy
which with true love need never be
stay true to it when love's realized
stick by their side: No true love dies



Sometimes to love is not enough
some love's too soft, some love's too rough
some love at different rates entire
and some love those who have expired
some will never love again
and some only love as friends
some seek just the breath of love
a simple glance, a small backrub



it takes great courage to take a breath
for ones who have been left bereft
without love for far too long
they grow detached and yet more strong
for survival is a difficult thing
with or without a wedding ring
courage and great strength truly lie
in those who none will mourn

Light Brights Sid Bitty

Never been trapped like this before
she could kill us we suppose
we're ages from the Pacific's shore
but she's got such a cute nose
We're head over heels for her you know
we wouldn't escape her cage of rose



as dew slips down the petals
of a lily on fresh lain grave
or a pyre's ash in feathers
floating softly to the ground
moments of silence are sanctified
not the din of thundering clouds



two figures dance in silent duet
the sounds of wind footsteps and breath
one topples over the other receives
and swan-like in the dark'ning eve
both do rise in Moonlight's glow
two hearts linked forevermore



spring deliver us a river
to snake on down the hills below
a torrent fit for a thousand years ago
when this bleak heaven bloomed before
a lush and verdant viny bosque
rainbow trees every few darn feet
we would walk without umbrella
naked down the street

Love and IP Sockets

We've a morbid Jormungandr
for this ratatoskr world
a plastic resin serpent corpse
getting gnawed on by the squirrels
while we take chainsaws to Yggdrasil
and reduce to stump and gnurls



a regular person is easily fooled
and education is needed with or without schools
Fools design tricks and spin all the wool
while knowing the truth and making it sound cool
so don't fear for your children if it all crashes down
just find a dang poet or even a clown



considering forgiveness, it's an interesting vice
did it a few times and we couldn't pay the price
which demanded the odd freezing and cocooning our heart in ice
we find it hurts our own heart less when we don't break it to be nice



we nurture a holy desidirium
not for the Seattle Aquarium
but rather for Point Defiance
in Tacoma where two families made an alliance
and the resulting four generations defiant
of injustice and cruelty by humans — we're giants



lies and deceit are just more meat
for an octopus to shred and pass through their beak
if you try and trap them they'll creep and they'll eke
a way out and then your destruction will wreak
so bring a speargun and you'd better not miss
your target is tiny and very dangerous



Love is a jolt of electric
It energizes and shocks
The work becomes frenetic
and her inspiration never stops
It's hard to sleep alone at night
Knowing that someone's there
A lover far away from you
For whom you deeply care

A Coachella of Turtles

you could sip a drink of clear
straight from a glacier a few meters near
wade around in a sun-warmed tarn
back to the skies where we are from
way up there you hear the stars
it's that sound like iron bears
rising wind an eagle's call
mountain goat dances causing rockfall



oh goody we're going to war
just the solution old men look for
gather up rabble, set 'em in lines
convince them to shoot each other another time
look at 'em go, leaders and their plans
not a single one of 'em what we'd call human



show us your conventions
we've been wild for far too long
show us your civilizations
so we can find where we belong
then we will rattle all their eaves together
with the roar of true love's song



one can always tell
and recognize signs of horror
where living folk once fell
a flattened circle in the grass
gravel the consistency of bone in clasts
the melted sand has turned to glass
but paper burns first of all
and history is the last call



what is the meaning of life? let's see
to be determined and never veer
all nemeses curate enemies
it is an unpleasant duty to forgive
and it generates results most queer
but if finding meaning means to live
we exist as ever-positive

Varieties in Season

We need the summer to pass us by
as it always has before
our memory of the smiles and joys
others had in years of yore
we'd prefer to remain alone and dour
but we join, never a single note sour:
we wouldn't want to spoil the mood
of summer's warm sunny hours



It seems the world insists that we
are something we can never be
which we cannot do and cannot see
but we're an odd anomaly
on that matter we do agree
but either way we are free
of burden and responsibility
the sly benefits of being nobody



We put the Mx in the mix
or call us M. Aick like we're a french poodle Dick
— M. Aick, il Perrx Francesx, Private Eye.
(or an irritating fly who always asks "why?")



it's the drugs that soothed and knocked us out
rum and weed provided safe redoubt
now our sober mind it shrieks and shouts
claws excoriate our own scalp
such unconscious tics leave little doubt...
we find it hard to fall down

gri ahtapot insists we go about our duties
plans involve rending, exploration, tearing new beauties
and shredding the great into edible plenties
passing through her beak to be encircled internally
this toroid-brained cephalopod's vision of peace and eternity



bewildered and baffled and battered by beauty
our day was assaulted by gentle kind words
no somos ningunxs por ningunx, creímos
pero ella no tomás nuestrxs tonterías
and our spirits took off like a bird

Wandering Downdrift Angels

air rises each morning regardless
with the sun and the birds and the freeway rumble
ever-expanding loth like a blossoming concrete pinwheel
little aeriel view curlicues
cul-de-sac nightmares seen from above
for exactly what they are
segregated bleak communities
safe as houses



days fall like leaves in still, thick air
shedding like dandruff falling out of our hair
dusting our shoulders and drifting down to the floor
all bare and cat fur-filthy evermore
we haven't swept in ages, what for?
only the diener left to come through our door



infiltrate our brain with sleep
intubate this Skald with mead
smoking soothes our agony
and intoxicates our head
if only rest came when we laid
our head down in the bed
o liver you abandoned us
now we're lost at sea
full of restful dreaming fish
and ever-treading we

decisions and choices we choose none of these
we're sleepy you see and we need to catch Z's
so good night to all we wish you the best
we're off to the bed in the room where we rest

Turnabout o Fair Unkindess

in the end hopefully there's nothing
no clicks no beeps no whir of fans cooling the electronics
no trying to distinguish the melody from the hiss
no unnatural seamless dissolve
something abrupt and final
muffled thump better than an echo
yet better to drown out the sound




if only we could spin and win a trick to be at beck and call
perhaps then we'd resurrect dead friends or join them once for all
our love extinguished, cursed to blight
why can we only hear the song of life
¿en castellano o Español?
what happened to our arctic soul?
did Pinochet's shots switch our poles?
so why the fuck do we stay here?
we're never paralyzed by fear
o here it comes now, truth will out
we're a shouty grouchy beastly lout
and moreover we'll soon be gone
no longer nagging on and on
we wouldn't want to cause a fuss
when we explode in a shower of pus
so there it is we've given up
no longer looking for true love
if we found them they'd be a dove
and we'd spoil it sure enough

Romance would not be near sufficient
to fill a life without leaving it deficient
neither would be someone too efficient
por exemplo if they thrown off by near-rhyme or complex rhythm
in short we don't want anything what isn't
everything of real intimate genius coexistence


six times six is thirty six
black or white or grey or mixed
our only certainty is this
it's all we've had/what we've got left
ev'ry step and ev'ry breath
each blink has left us more bereft
don't tell us who we are again
don't make us ever re-explain:
we are nothing more than pain

Desertification Station

pleasant company excepted
nobody climb on wires to construct a face
ocean is where the wet is
not here sepia sere cerulean lush unsucculent air
a hydrogen coolant supernova no lover risks to dare
gentrified by launching pads
please blast us all off into space



a ship can list as well as this
afore taking aboard some water we'd guess
we don't miss the lists of resists
for many seemed to be frivolous
we'd rather focus on real justice
or at least act like a silly twit



with several hoops to grace our ear
a sailor's life is something near
a wanderer is what we've been
and many things is what we've seen
presupposition is foolish, yes
so 'ware the waters lest on the rocks ye'll wreck



if we had a soul we'd sell it quick
we wouldn't want to be saddled by it
we're a poet, e. g. nebulous
our muse is a tiny grey octopus
and she demands we wail thus
we'll leave the success to other folk
we're raptly singing to creosote

Biased Tapeworms

mutant urban youth growing up on pickles and salami
brains addled from asphalt fumes what drive one crazy
rural kids raised on boomsticks bibles and bigotry
small town big dreams like boys joining the navy
while Peggy's in the barn trying to sing like gwen stefani


1.
in the silence on a night with a wan moon
if a sound in an arroyo like a cricket waking up
a scratching and cracking like twigs underfoot
when skinwalkers stalk the coyote goes silent
tickles of nails on the back of your throat
as the temperature drops and the wind picks up

2.
don't run don't stop and don't turn back
keep on walking same pace and same track
the howls of sandy gusts and the terrible noise
they burst your eardrums and your body destroy
but never turn or slow or rush: You'll become their toy

3.
a marionette of bones, fury and flesh
animated by rage and wendigo's breath
hints of apocalypse and nature's revenge
peeks at our epoch's future: The land of dead ends



spider's work is never done
don't spin in place lest our web be unspun
hunt in others' liner notes
they hardly notice we change our throat
and sing lures with different sounds
each time our snares risk being found
we set our traps and return
in good time our meal we'll earn

Gris Víboras del Altiplano

mock us for our flow they do
for it is intermittent, harsh
snippets like lost melodies
or splinters of broken arks
smashed to bits by krakens deep
the goliaths of the dark
call a poem a song and listen:
The rhythm's in our heart



proceed to be a person of utility
until a reputation is set in cement
at which time you then proceed
in light of this solid precedent
in the erection of a procession
you may intercede if there's a need
and if you've followed these steps in order
you'll necessarily succeed



look at this humanity
what greatness and what majesty
ok look ma we're revolutionary
or passed out winos smoking trees
like an iguana upon a limb be free
until the winter's next deep freeze
then we'll reach our perigee
drawn to earth by gravity
done to death by reality



we like to keep cats
a house a car this and that
a horse of course is what we want
a camel or an elephant
some great steed a mighty mount
but such things are for the rich
not for a poor punk queer switch
who pulls up a hooptie in front
and won't set foot in the restaurant

Somebody's Prison

en mi concha yo soy mas mejor
dige la macha on the seafloor
exterminado dos ángeles cuando ellos bailado
tampoco me gusta y no bebo alcohol



accompanied by our shadow and a whispered far-off call
we sidle through arroyos and each crack in every wall
exploring every cranny from under leaves which have yet to fall
we whistle from each canyon every notch and every col

The Twister's Mom

flip and sit to whit can't take a hit with such little wit
assay your pay today (it's layaway) play or affray on clay
write a writ to slip the clip over and under hold onto it
hey anyways say they graze maize on mayonnaise quays
we admit the twits remit a bit



moonlight fires from eyes of iron
climb spiral staircase ascend the spire
may we please retire this hour
to this bower of lucent power?
it's not too hot, not too cold
we'd like to die when we are old
drowning in a field of flowers
but until then we must respire



every structure has a key
a building is not a stone
keys are made of teeth and bones
and tortoises dwell under every home
like angels they are busy with
undermining monuments
a well-lived life was never meant
to stay in place or to pay rent
so get a tent and be free

Dreams of Eternal Silence

it shouldn't look as if it hurts
these simple short arresting words
indicators incidental indeed it must be
they and she and we and oh yes he
So why don't they seem so when we weep?



sew our lips shut shall we then?
should we ever whistle sweet?
if we strike a key or pluck a pen
will we be too indiscreet?
will we lose our dearest friend?
we don't enjoy such secrecy
a secret stinks like rotting meat



they shot God down last night
the poor tortoise was gunned down mid-flight
Kylie crashed to the earth as a meteorite
and while the humans are fighting over media rights
he revives in his burrow of clay and dolemite



if we were the sun we would live in the dark
if others then called us let's say "a bright spark"
we'd deny it because we'd imagine we're dust!
after all what else would be between us and stars?
just some tiny specks like Jupiter and Mars
an asteroid belt and some cosmonauts



do as we say, not as we do
don't listen to what we say, watch what we do
if can't means we don't want to after all
then won't means we're an unscaleable wall
these scripts don't seem suited to the task
to a poet, a queer, or a sassy jackass

Forests of Overconfidence

opal octopus plays in the forest
kelp shadows deep fit her like a glove
as otters dive down to prowl and to prey
she's courage and confidence, no fear of above
a life of learning exploration and play
to mate and be finished by love




a tug at the rope gives a choke and a wheeze
in white clouds of dust as we fall to our knees
in this brash land of violence and new possibilities
the highest aspiration appears to be psychopathy



As long as our loves require
our heart and soul will thrum
yet when we expire
our loves will all be done
so why should we pursue them so?
and nurture them to grow?
like a dung beetle it's what we do
for this is all we know



violins in bowling alleys standing up like pins
sussurations fill the hall as the bowlers stand
in one row they throw their skulls
and down the lanes they roll
and every revolution they just begin again



crimson-bloody and palled by low mist
ethereal colors appearing, life's gifts
dawn emerges from the comfort of night
darkness recedes before the day's light
the sun creeps above and burns off the fog
a new day of traffic and loud barking dogs

Tactical Jokes

monuments and memories of people we will never meet
Armageddon is aspirational Ragnarok is just a dream
abandoned homes and vacant lots up and down each street
visions of these solitudes as movies on a screen
no last man and his library no gallant tragic end
better off to be a bee and make some buzzing friends



buzzards circle in high blue air
barbed wire tangles like tumbleweeds
this is the steppe of the wild and the free
sun-bleached, brief, esoteric and sere



one pill two pill three pill four
one more in the morning just to make sure
we're all filled up with chemicals galore
ideally not native but from distant shores
better yet from alien stars or
just pharmaceutical pimps treating us like their whore



Beastly barbarians best be barring no bards
our lord is a tortoise from New Mexico or Mars
our own mind is made up from others' discards
and while the miserable misers are mining sharp shards
this mock-snake sarabandes in gardens of chard

Whittling a Tiger

darling let's party until the morn
start the next before the first one's done
we're nearly deaf from cracks of guns
blinded by the powder burns
all future battles we have forsworn
we're tired of all the dying sons
sick to our gut with uniforms
shall we pause the war and revel some?



let's play a game of confessionals
we'll be all starched and professional
like proper little penguins we'll be marching as if to sea
all dressed up to the nines, we'll forge onward diligently
it's off to church to fill our bills with all the sins we need



Oh agony, partner in life
your amber waves of pain....
four sleepless decades of delerium
please disconnect us at the brain.
if we could float above it all
a simple severed head
one hand to scratch out words in sand
would suffice until we're dead



Desert hoodoo trash-heaped slum
as if to be describing our very own home!
is strange, no, this poetic song?
how somehow we all have a connection
the zeitgeist or trends or popping a quiff
like Newton or Leibniz and the Calculus!
—AN: Cassondra Windwalker insp.



Don't mind us, we're just a fool
not fit company for a queen like you!
A scold's blood is all we have running through
these scarred-up veins and reknit bones
yet Sister Death is our dearest crone
and she will greet each queen and king
for everyone must kiss her ring
—AN: Natasha Link insp.