Initiation

 






Blood in:




(we are)
daft in our groove,

a fresh cut flesh nut
stratosphere veins
for an ax past the facts
beyond the skin of perception-

our sleep away caves
are graved awake
to chords of light
through ancient rows
where I soak my cells
in the green serene
that

unblinking

eye~

an all-seeing dream
winks at the dogs
& worms our wrists
into one happy hominid
inbred lizard
pyramid scheme
{soaring}
from a brownskin
sugarplum tangerine
vitriol labor,

thunder weed roots
unto aery lutes,

all unhurt &
all unbound
with their cherry scarce
and a wasp to burrow
flesh as wage
all voiced in the rage
of a radio wave-

a low frequency stage
all watchin’ the time
& the girls walk by
(they wanna man
with soft hands
an’ a hard heart
an’ a li'l doom 'n' gloom
with they vroomvroomvroom
from they womb 'til they tomb
because)

They,

forked tongues in our pale sunlight
as chemtrails fume
for our foxhole plumes
an’ ‘em cuddle-demons watch
through ’ar teddy bear cams-
(motion-sensed
in chess piece face
anticipation bleaching
the sub pump for fungi worship…)

an’ you 'n' yer hats 'n' specs
an’ me 'n' my boots & b***s
we check ‘em fools
when they mack in they mags
an' keep they backs in they bags-
(they got they claws in th’ kiddies
with ’ar goodies in they hoodies)

They,

a simulated stimulated
invisible reptile legion-
a battle for earth
& sometimes,
when the machines go down
I stone alone
while grassed or ghast
at the shape we’re in,
so grossed or ghost or
in like sin or
on like moss, or

a line on sand by broken hand,
a slick.lick.rock where the path splits hares
& my intuition screams
with a jagged rage
as I dance for blood~
dazed awake
'til a faith in snakes
doth tap & quake
with my buckshot cross-eyes
a-wanderin’     "off"
to whet my beak
(so to speak)
in smokeless flame
through blades of dirt
where wetwork
(net worth)
‘lectric stands
to the creature-wind
‘long a babbling peak

where attentions span
their {soaring} scales
and there I am,
the thing that hovers
over the windows
to your soul
when your stars are set
& your prayers are right,
how we'll hold our heads at the moon
and laugh at their half
all saved & restrained
into slaves for graves
(she slips over time
to sniff my lips
where the blade of her mouth
comes piercing gaze
down old dark creeks
from her sunless shrieks)

and I cry,

ye, I weep a brick
'til the slit of day
while throating my bugs
to the wounded sky,
bled & burnt on the chalky view
by shadows & milk
still slithering hope
into shapes on sand
with a bronzing hand:

may we fox their pox into a pillar of rocks
& stick their snaps across their flickering backs~

yer a slinking forward-thinking-stone,
a home to come to breeze or chill
still trapt down in my heart
where the cypress
forever prays
beyond the pangs
of a soaring palisade

& climbing the knots in the grove
on crimson cords of light
along the ancient rows
through their ritual throes,

we grave 'em the slip.







Blood out.