I shall be of slavery
sobbing in the night
when the moon is hidden
behind a fantastic mountain
I shall be of anger
heat upon heat
glowing insanely white
alone in the dawning desert
I shall be of lies
blood gurgling above
as the stars drown
in its sea of disease
I shall be of number
when the bronze prophecy
casts the skeleton of the fields
where children remember nothing
I shall be of incense
a sound perfuming clouds
or a string wringing time
leaving the last drop to dry
the downward slide of space
bare, exposing long origins
amassing by layers
as if it were sediments of time –
and these drops on the pane
are the benevolent visit
of superfluous beauty
that I smuggle into
the vain territory
of life
I’m ready to wing a logic
a mode of airborne communication
something of this collapse
can be spied upon
from above
with skeletons
we induce the flesh
the art and the tool;
so with these rudimentary droplets
the underlayer element
begins to fume
as a fire burning on
infinity
hush…
it’s gone.
add to me ad infinitum
fasten echoes around my laughter
conduct time by its vulgar silhouette
return the black that eroded your eyes
oh my what an endless effect
the cause of your choices
an observation racing the light,
is that the bloated noise I call meaning
by the leaves that crawl as outsiders
on the even solitude of the street
add to me more becoming
while I endure mortality as an empty receptacle
that nests these parcels of private history –
these wobbly extensions of the void,
tucked away in those gaps
that condense life into blah.
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.
On a camel
deeper Morocco
sunset soon
near Sahara
there I started
to feel again,
the beautiful earth
turning in the dream of night;
the stars sailing my mind
all the stars
stars.
staring at the opposite end
of time
in a tent
Berber land
sun gone
near the mighty Sahara.
Automata
eject the unconscious
under the wild smear
of the event
anger
a coil
like a spin
on the axis
of regret
together
like the skies
change as the seasons
of our fears
waiting
while creating
the future
that entertains us
like a drug
in the mouth
of time
Modern Poetry Blog
By time
I was aware
the puke was everywhere spreading
like the universe
I could see traces
of yellow
and acid
pain spiraled in
this was suffering
but I
emptied
free of content
overtook space
as a substitute
to
existence.
Nihilistic Poetry Blog
Now that it’s
clear
that I write
the worst
poems of modern
times
I have excess of words
to give out as cigarettes
to the homeless freaks
of tomorrow’s
cave
I have these empty
whiskey glasses
for the saddened utopia
of ultimate
reality
giving up time
as a shoe
that blistered my feet
but a bum of philosophy
took up
as a joyride
to
perfection.
I try
to surpass existence
I fail
I simply: exist
I feel myself in the world
I am in it
yet I spend most of my time
dreaming
that I am not
I don’t deny that there
is something
my only yearning
is that I cease being
part of it
I woke up today reading
the Secret of Life
the stairway was the same
but the streets, oh the streets
they were building blocks of awe
molecular lumps alive with the wind
processes in motion
like trees in a storm
every face was a map
charting the layers of the universe
scenes changed as propelled by engines of time
orchestration by a slow chaos
everything interconnected by invisible spokes
why o why
must days like these
come to an end
tomorrow I must wake up
and open the first pages of
the Gates of Unknowing.
Beyond Language 
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