from a decree, i sowed in yr burning coals

Two new poems: one containing an image that will re"appear" ("occur" might be giving myself too much credit) forever in my shit (but reoccur recursively?! that would be something!) and one in which I have no idea whom I'm trying to accuse.

Is it gauche to post two poems at once? Also, is there a nifty word that means 'to see through'? Sorry for all this work! I know, lazy-puff, it's summer. Finkle me a dinkle. Go shave an asteroid.



Headlight Hollow

    Sunset trawls
a hollowed head-
light, finds the
  fine     dust, this
  loose       silk

One Last Note or Two or Wet

Thunder scoots against the riffs
that eke from such a dimebag balcony.

He plays to prove his t-shirt,
its logash logo of The Doors.


In his family, things are assumed fucked
when you spring for the pre-slated motorcycle.

But he tried and couldn't swing a cut & paste account
of "first in the family to graduate x" --

not a neat forked choice, just a skylark plunge
for "volunteer jawbones on the Reception Battalion bus" :

comparing pink-tubed and cornpoke routes
against his hopalong mytholojerk,

a clank heart and that later go! crokd fingr
trigger flang scuzz thud finger but oh now just

skin that bathed in the kitchen sink (no flowers
near the shower knob, nickel hussy Mazda gurgle --)

He has seen Val Kilmer fake peyote bolstered cum
and dreamed to jump hard from his own face,

is worried now about a fumbled twang,
losing sweet ass riff shit to wet strings

kinked and fried (what is it five seconds)
by a rain that you can lean from or let spread.

He tries to keep the guitar under the roof slats
and knees the amp against his goof flesh.