How to Tread

pale the curtains
oh what's effaced
forgive the dead you hasty
once they've left
this awful place
no aquarium can contain we
the mourners gather
all chased in lace
every event a party
if the arsonist shows
her grinning face
then she ought pray they can restrain we




every time someone gets near
we act like we devolve into desperation
why settle for a drudging smear
we have some respect for our own station
if nobody can navigate to here
then we remain a sovereign nation
of only one perhaps... oh dear!
we're just one state called Consternation.



how clever do they think they are?
you can't outsmart a severed head
in every river in every bar
we'll follow where we're led
as sand hopscotching and winds exist
under this blank and staring sky
on mountain, in deserts, through forest mists
we won't rest until they die



She's a postcard sent and never viewed
smoking like it's her personality
a dingy room, a mildewed mood
her darkness smothers all vitality
What tenderness renders all disarmed and nude?
why, her torture and cruel brutality!



hot and bright and all we want...
expose the nerves and watch em wave
like fronds or a hand beckoning the grave
a twist of the ankle and that's the cover
say hello to old friends and lovers
dedications more dead than most
severed from our earth, our host
no more breath is left to breathe
now time to pray, get on your knees

A Quiet Morning

they're interfering with our geometry
it's silent but we can hear it all
again a victim of philosophy
the shrieking echoes from canyon walls
this time it seems we'll be vengeance sent
as opposed to a simple fall
we've never tasted the luxury of choices:
Vermin forever crawls




as ivory and blood in yellow sand
this infection rages
our memories are resorted and
so we forget our ages
Order in any way is
disemboweling
we prefer our history to be
towering
Memory is foam degrading
spume and storm retreat and fading
a party over no reason to stay
with the dawn revealing the disarray
Instant reaction is satisfaction
so burn all previous pages




two thirds of god already spent
one third remainder's all we've left
so it seems we're left alone
as the timebomb ticks.
We'd need at least six to feed our own
and get them up to their old tricks
this is a time when new gods are born
but we're past any sort of fix
riding on the coming storms
nice enough to be in the mix
just when it's getting really warm
remembering those already gone




we could all just be like copies
of people who came before
no need for resurrection
reincarnation's more efficient, sure
recycle all the souls on earth
no reason to make more.
But the only gods we've met are reptiles
animals, plants, and rocks
if such is the case then we suppose
that souls are just like socks
changeable and washable,
and they mostly come in pairs
if one is mated to the other
the more harmonious sets we'll wear




if we say we're clever (never)
then we'll tend the stones
some things are forever better
when they're made of bones
anyone can love in all kinds of weather
while the magnificent remain alone

The Calmest Tide

In this closed fell are all our hells
but nothing mars our skin
no claws can harm this iron pelt
as our fury boils within
struck silent by the clear blue truth:
We've all winds at our back
This time we won't reclaim our youth
instead we'll just attack



all we get is what we steal
borrow make or just create
discards and organs are a meal
we're only full if we just ate.
a ripping sort of shifting tear
our forest torn like paper tigers
pulled out angels dance like bears
handcuffed shuffle like a string of lighters
bobbing in the evening breeze
decorations for a child's desires
we're every one born on our knees
kneeling round a burned-down campfire




on every branch these casket nails
arrest or slow our fall
eternities seem to pass us by
as we come once more to rebirth's call.
Our siren's song of vengeful whispers:
We must have it all
Our hungry heart consumes all others
from greatest to most small




what's this we rise in sand and grit
this is nothing like how we remember it
something slithers hisses falls
on our face like a cannonball
dropped from a meter over our grin
tasting rust and blood again
there it our heart returns
not just our rage but our skin it burns
oh reptile what twist have you wrought?
thank your luck that we're already bought.

Grip of the Moment

we ghost most gently through the underbrush
slip behind boulders and always upwind
they often remark we're invisible
but we're only quiet and trim
stalking and scouting is our fortress
whenever the forecast is grim



Coalescing finally drifting down
our blood begins to boil
what strange and unexpected reward
for our endless, aimless toil
back to that start, square one it seems
again we're down to this
familiar: We'll be in the blood
as we retreat to mists



In other worlds at other places
maybe things will get inflected
hewing wood or looping braces
paralyzed in a dreaming maze
as starter pistol begins the races
trapped we are the minotaur
all manners devoid of kindness, graceless
we're petrified and diamond hard



It remains again this reconnoitering
entombed, ensconced within this womb
no hasty weaver's shuffle-clack clattering
bold argent chases our emerald cocoon
was a simple dugout blind hide for recovering
but now it's more prison than hospice room

A Toothy Nadir

burnt out like delicate cinders on dark water
snuffed silent light to black
briefest joy and pleasant things
we can't ever get them back
pain is ever-present companion to all
that is how each life goes
we're scarred from all the fighting for sure
all scar from toes to nose



we'd take all of history and break it with a snap
we've got the means and the filters, gels, and notions....
if it meant one moment more with her on her back
in between our involuted desert and her ocean
looking up at us lazily like we were just a snack
we no longer remember how to miss our emotions...




Thirty three make a xylophone
Eight hundred's what you've got
a clattering toy like a barrel of bone
we suppose you'd rather not
go down that trail back to your home
it's just full of dead bodies and rot




we cannot catch you on the wing
but we can arrest your flight
there's no hiding place we cannot find
we hunt all day and night
so wriggle more, oh scaly worm
are your bindings getting tight?
try relaxing or dying instead
we trussed you up just right.




blood and smoke and what is this
disorder down in the camp we see?
hush now, reptile, do not hiss
be quiet and we'll set you free
let's check your knots, oh we insist
we'll have to part ways briefly...

The Emptiness Habitual

Hissing dripping water sounds
resound around this hollow town
where rain is falling constantly
through dark gutters and along the eaves
what dull and claustrophobic lives
like insects scurrying about a hive
streetlamps reveal their agonized eyes
we'll all feel nothing after we die




we would hunt a wizard, a warlock
a witch or a hag in a hut
a farmer or a longshoreman
whoever our blades can cut
we had no purpose for so long
(perhaps even a week!)
but now we're next to whom we belong
and in her shadow we will creep




Listing limping we've been shot
a broadside hit our weakest spot
we've no idea how much time we've got
we've been ages at sea on our dreadnought
avoiding all ports — this ship is hot
but now we need a safe dry dock
or at least a shoreline cum parking lot




This weather is very unseasonable
it's making many go mad
to be stuck inside in midwinter
why that's just like every previous one we've had
but to be paralyzed by the summer heat
the blazing orb that lurks above
why that just stinks of rotting meat
and it's no time for love




a mottephobic autumn eve
millers bang inside
paper lanterns strung below
slick rooftops where we hide
the rain it pours down endlessly
we barely notice anymore
we're here to hunt our only purpose
it's only murder we're used for



speaking of witches and monsters and such
we took her daughter and left in a rush
she will pursue us all the way back to camp
we'll smash up her egg as she's choked in the damp
make her an omelet and serve it for lunch
here, scaly sand witch: Name her then munch.

Sacred Geography

We dart among the green ribbon
our blood muddy and eyes closed
feeling along the riverbottom
grasping rocks with our fingers and toes
the howls fade out into the desert
as the night here draws dark and close
This is our fortress, our serpent kingdom
water deceives the bloodhound's nose




We live in the eye of an endless storm
it's hot and windy as hell
all night and day an infinite swarm:
cockroaches in every well
on gusts the songs and blood are borne
and often we hunt by smell
In this place that we call home
all manner of monsters dwell




Regarding them, they are monstrous
lumbering and rotten like zombies before us
Dead eyes gone, looking empty
shutters drawn hearts full of envy
Yet we're told this is how it should be
Sedentary, divorced from all our instinct
... pardon us if we violently disagree
Reminding us, we're a dancer
moving our feet to the rhythm of Cancer




We're not in pain you are you are
these are simply battle scars
yes they're weeping yes it's blood
no worries 'less it becomes a flood
we lick our wounds and hide our pain
as lightning comes with summer rains
for in winter the hunt is lean
Fall's what's left for us to glean



Close as we can't get
an edge we keep on pushing forward
mind as black as jet
We think of nothing leastwise untoward
our soul feels like a pet
compulsive always focus outwards
if we could we would just let
out our skull to someone boring



If we had an hour to kill within
a carriage or anything else
the relevant matter would simply be
who is left on the shelf?
after we're done, not depending
on the size of the car
the floorboards will be soaked and heavily creaking
with all the corpses there are!



we ride these waves of passing passion
keening when there's grief
we are not only sudden action
but also police and thief
In our hearts there is an ocean
of every mask there is
If we wear one with devotion
then only We exists




we'll take you easy we'll take you hard
then serve you up to Hildegaard
it's your choice, you can run
you'll only make it much more fun
you can hide for a while
or take a headstart of many miles
we're relentless if unfocused
we'll split you open you like a crocus
a blossom of blood we will draw
on the ground where you fall




we're in a thunderstorm, it's midnight
and yet nothing has begun
as if we're a buoy, host to barnacles
floating untethered in the sun
upon the endless sandy dunes
of this sere, arid high ocean
surrounded by mesquite and cholla
chock full of ruins and bombs




love eternal is within
be true to us then we begin
deconstructing every motion
every look and glance
to their eyes of great devotion
with ours which ever dance
looking over every wrinkle
every pore and hair
this tough nut will be our winkle:
their presence gives us air