I have never tasted the world.

With skin, I cannot live as a man

in a city simulation.

Before it rains the landscape

sober despite action.

I did not walk across

the surface of awareness

. Pure angst that it is.

Imagine happiness like held thunder.

When something is new

its artificial language displaces the

characteristics of the innovation.

But I’ve prayed for the earth

to dissolve as a drug on

my tongue. And extend

a bridge between truth

and this movement.

The blood stands in the way

like a mural of total redness.

I’ve never tasted the world.
With this skin that can only mirror susurrations.


Contemporary Poetry


Simulacrum Poem

the receptor
is fire in the body
smoking as the embers
unite with shadow
over the ultimate
          coat of illusion

the path of the worm
is a flight in the night
this season of suffering
when wisdom is
reaching out to the
         of the thinker

there’s only music
the ears are my feet
to dance is the fatalistic
         engine of love

the rock
of the sea.