lily faces fucking in liquid phonemes,
across the roomy universe
gloom and doom prophet-bed;
fondling spheres,
the frozen lungs and bleeding hearts dabble mama, dabble papa
into starlight, covering the spaces
in between world peace and world piece –
paper currency phalluses
blowing ‘bout steel girders, stolen girdles;
in liquid phonemes, replication
plucks the pricks
out of the bos taurus mess; pasiphaë,
butch and postmodern in canadian flannel jacket-shit,
breeds them thick, breeds them bull
markets. converging into the thick-thighed flannel queen
along piss-poor parisian hurdy-gurdy canal clutter,
the little ‘pataphysician stares in absinthe stupor,
casting six-shooters in gunmetal soul,
red-hot hip-hop letters. everywhere, lily faces fucking
into the wham-bam
geoid craze, linking, linking the stinking
fingers of marxist cabbage-eaters
across america; honkeys killing hillbillies
killing crackers killing the paleface dream of white picket fences
and white picket lines; pickaninny prison throwback,
spectral and searing into
the dark side of the earth, turned but never turning –
burnt, but never burning. wham-bam bleeding geoid
heart, northern irish shit ditch planet,
covers childrens’ faces in
oneiroi toenails, gloom and doom prophet-bed prayers
growing cellular, growing ingrown
in childrens’ faces; spitting
fake false prophets, so surrogate to imagination
that the blood’s still blue.
oxygen angel, bleed me red like aristarchus;
bleed me red like luther’s stolen nails
nailing on doors paper Christ catholic, catholic adjectival
and gathering in two or more in names of God;
bleed me red like galileo, watching star
and soil. sweep over me, babylon, regalia in
your blue genitalia, lapis lazuli
wedged so integral into your ovaries,
knowing – israel’s knowing –
burns caramel faces star-white,
whiter than we were meant to know: plasma white into
a palmless jerusalem, a palmless oblivion: creeping blank,
and no more is the clitoris art.
sweep over me, sweptover babylon,
faceless fucker.
and the poets don’t agree,
but the weeping willows scrawl their carbon
eyelids open
into ripples of lakes manmade, madmen willows
carving into tides the tongue of lear’s fool;
cordelia or cracker, the rich bitch articulate
spoke the wind onto the water to say
what’s beauty – mummer beauty lit up
in chaos, holy chaos, screaming chaos
into the infinite logos above –
and what’s just dick-waving.
let them write and let them, like their dreams,
flail like frail goldfish
into the neverdeath and God – where fails
white and black, where fails all spectrums.
and the poets don’t agree,
but no one else listens to severed tongues
in godly reverence and
makes reliquaries of the egg and foreskin
of our adam’s kin.
ashen adam is but the prick,
ember eve is but the vagina; melodious sex
trips down the stairs to
bones’ snap and orgasms,
woven in tapestries of ionic beauty,
and nothing survives the fall
but ionic souls, tethered in bands and
electrons – and delogocentric do
the capillary lips, carbon and disappointing,
caress the hair, the eyelid, the nose, the chin, the throat, the shoulder, the chest;
carbon and disappointing, the wordless waves
resonate to lacquer skin and neuron to the
electric soul. and prophet-speech
resonates on soil and skull, state and tongue,
lacquering life onto this blushless rock –
irony gives love words when love is a music silent.
stones to resonate the oceans’ sound:
babylon, jerusalem; roma, beijing; medina, dublin:
turn whilst turning; burn whilst burning.
Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790