"People Are..."

a Howl in the night, my brother--
as we ascend the moonlit road
with truth on our minds.
Why can't we?

We are onlookers in a room
full of stillborn fingers
glowing in the shadow of the night.

useless complaints
seem like cold handshakes,
unecessary toasts,
weeping over female tears.

(strange things put to use)
and we look at each other
as if

"On Christmas Day, In the Morning"

wake up

to thin paper cocoons immediately undone,
their contents consumed.
the floor is soon littered with a terrible refuse.
faces drain of anticipation,
as multicolored lights illuminate
fabricated smiles.

and then:

"that's it?"
(the offerings expire)
"it's not even what I asked for.
i needed more

than this"

the air is still and strange when
greedy eyes glance at sturdy walls
and stare at flawless feet.

The Garden of Earthly...

Recently have been thinking of this piece by Bosch and drew from it some inspiration...

"The Garden of Earthly..."


Split in three.
Heaven,
Hell,
And the interlude.


(triptych trifecta)


Holy Ghost apparatus:
produced me.


And God knows,
I decay.


Naked bodies, piled high
(insinuating
intercourse)


What I’m trying to say is
We haven’t got time
for most of these

rotting flesh

delights.