If you tell a kid
that can’t remember being born,
you were born of your mother,
from your father’s seed
you come from a line of lovers
that started way back
before the instrument of love
when there was only form
forming flux and
the structure of diamonds
everywhere protruding
from the mystery
of dark pulsation.
To be a bed
where two flies procreate
a scoop of nailed flight
to be a hiding of swirls
and heavy wax hairs
alpine view here with the roar of a minute
to be born of sperm and fact
trapped between two breasts of dirty fruit
feeding from black poisonous miracles
to be fallacies of waste
to have animals over you scavenge for dumb teeth
to be a gulf of chewed respirations
aging dawn of wings
crashing against oceanic mirrors
to be a bed of cactus
where virgins report to god
and sacrifice their blood to color
the brick walls of love
to be all the circles of anatomy
but not the equations of multitudes
the guilty resin of interpenetration
to be a savant sleeping under
hoards of cannibalistic dreams.
This is my chance
to render existence
beautiful, justify it all
this is my chance
to leave a mark
in the thicket of irrelevance
that encircles life
this is my chance to create a gem
of poetry and longing
the universe
I see
is but a sketch
an attempt
the purest game
miracle comes in between
the things that are by chance real
I love its
magic
I am touching
the soul with silence
– that art thou
stargazing the mind
this is my chance
to suffer
the wisdom of solitude
my only voice
to reach out
to
you
I touch the moment by its hectic word,
without imitation, from bursts and bursts
I come in unintentionally.
By name, by function by friendship
I invent this place;
I don’t have gifts of sky or lantern,
I don’t fathom an exit.
Entities and noise musically erase my eyes,
a cold sheet of water, no more days
possessions by an instant.
I intend to own an ocean
wet by the iron that hurts
a depth of gunfire.
I live by tendencies, the tender spots
placing what’s left of me on this bench
I sit: time begins
Why assert when doubt freely listens in
don’t ask why I fell into this stateless love
imagine that I have just begun.
So this is my
bloodless combat
a fight to death
when I have no flag
behind me to endorse
to glorify
I can sneak up behind time
strangle her
only later to be
grieving that nothing ever happens
I may surround all of matter
near midnight
obliterate it in one bright flash of idealism
only later to regret
that the mind is equally senseless
and then all the personal things
work grudges, love fractures, intoxication cravings, unspoken family sorrows
all those tanks, Morse codes, handheld grenades, isolated trenches
that I must overcome, decipher, throw away, endure
when I still don’t have a flag of purpose
to endorse
to glorify
should the inconceivable happen:
victory
to what homeland should I return
if this war
suddenly comes to an end?
The iris
expands
way beyond
the circumference of light itself
that stare you give me
makes my skin
rockhard reptilian
immersion is your talent
deluge as dissatisfaction
till I drown from inertia
your heart is a fish
in the reddest sea
my bait is saline love
your iris is a flying saucer
abducting my hope
nothingness is two feet away
but I’m afraid to look
in this sad world of ours
eyes should have been
history’s greatest revolution.
Burn to crumbs
to infernal to love to
agony to evaporation
to rebirth to a thousand human
screams to another
to another vision
to another of all possible worlds
burn with anger
dare to bring collapse
collective shield of cowardice
be alone to be silent
to restart to reformulate
to negate all to remake all
from alas to alas
perish world by world
planet after planet
sun to sun
ignite! ignite!
ignoble race, ignite!
to hate to love again
to die to be reborn
ignite immortal missioners
to purge heights and abysses
unite in the fire
ignite in invisible apotheosis
from plight to undreamt of
life… begin!
What was it that you said?
am I still not inaccessibly alone
imagining hordes of men and women
conjuring movements of civilizations
as the smoky characters of a dream
as the twisted story of a hallucination
is that your echo by the candlelight?
how can a voice enter this airless chamber
in the skintight solitude of my nullity
corner
my acute angle
a point without length, without breadth, without breath
breathe, did you say?
where comes that voice
the invisible companion
hidden behind layers of insensitivity
how can something delicate survive
near my poisonous skin…
am I still not alone
dreaming worlds and stars
are you there,
my mirror, my love?
Come trace each spiral’s end
the emptiness of every word
fullness of rippling chords
wondering, strange wondering
those that once were
where has the smoke of their pipes
traveled?
To them we were distant dream’s child
a rising vapor over their colossal deaths—
serene nocturnal sounds
Gathering ink droplets
over prayer’s whisper
and the fall, rushing leap
bottom deep darkness into
deep immensity’s embrace
Violin growth of love
the stream naturally light
flight upon mountainous sleep
crossing threads of cycles and returning
Entering moment’s origin
returning every minute
arriving over and over again.
Beyond Language 
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