the only thing worth knowing

I changed sides
of the road
to some ultimate
I was wrong
it was only
another sidewalk
I had been
doing nothing
staring at letters
in books
knowing their meaning
the coffee got cold
I go for walks
when I get tired
of sitting.

I’d like to say
this is all true
but I only have
noise and vague memory
I have no idea
what I did




an ode to whatever is represented

Dimensions glass

I was divagating in a fluidity of language
collecting in the subjective aroma of an objective pinpoint
a star deriving its presence by its undulating waste of light.

I contained the arching earth and the moon
pretended to shift through the clouds of a mind
like an unconscious mirror spinning.

The arrow of the sensation was pointed
towards a nectarous instant of sound
a long necklace of harmonies.

My hour is traveling through imaginary pleasing effects
the seconds are my mistresses in red corduroy –
the age – a vague perfume of disparate dimensions.





Nihilistic Poetry Blog

the horror

The letter h


Husk of Art
Hang the veins of wings
Hurry through the vast futilities
Help me
Hungry man
Heights and heroes
Home in the plateau of chaos
Human Ocean of Being
Happiness as the mistake of ages
He and she and the mirror of passion
Hairy monster of tiny desires
Haunted origin of cloud
Hopelessly entangled in the
Horrible symptoms of my



Nihilistic Poetry Blog

a request

Has the raucous broth of
mad existence
in the twinkle ruin
of your perception?

Has the incense of repetition
shoal the antipodes of speech
in the colliding spiral
of absurdity?

Has the impervious rant
emerging like a Zen of clouds
immolate round and sound
as reason of the ephemeral?

Has the curve of light
lost in mind
like the rolling dimension
of unknowingness?

Answer me!



on work

Working place earth

It is there
a taste of machine
in my earth-rooted tongue
that although I am drenched
in phantasmagoria
my center is solid like
the bolt of physical law

it is there
a host of onerous mechanisms
behind the quiet gleam
of motion

that in the splintered sky
of the treetops
a fabulous realm of myth, sleep
and transience is reposing
like the heavy fingers of god

but today
rocks are in my lungs
being grinded for
the castles of math
and strategy

a player taken out
of the bench of chimera
to supply the field
with an extra glove of fact

today the world is no longer my metaphor
but the unalienable stage for
man’s work.



Poetry 2011


Run motion

your naked
shiny hurt
on the stool
of ass
mission of fingers
making murder
in my eyelashes
of grieving
love’s cake,
eat now
or be eaten
by the insect
with deathly stomach
my aims
of dying
like a loose
falling somewhere
when in a jerk
hop off

Absurd Poetry

elevate I to end

Human Form

a film of thaw
rosy tender flesh
your perfect target
agonic wine deadly aim
by the non-appearance closer
logical surrender instance of essence
point drop angular arpeggio by the moon

    eye                  eye


      form around the cellar
by side                     raised younger


lost in the sympathy of quivers
tingling by the mindwake of emptiness.


Nihilistic Poetry Blog