Dinely Cast

Strangely you crept

And your skin hiding the room behind sparrow wings

Shapely jutting in wool or extended hypnogogic

Hands in hand-sewn lace

Thinning in the vacant 

Air that pushes the early morning

And stretches out in the sun

A creeping whisper

Deferred in the having known you of your eyes
Heavy sea animals touching sand
Promising depth below refracted cavings

You opened your bones into a calcified air 

And, inside as an eyelid,

A lunar time hushed and heaved

And slighted openly its mouth

You, who have carved a thick shape

Into wood, who have recited

Directives in table grains

And lied

And removed your stockings

Your eyes, whose lids closed like clouds

And whose hands have only seen the breath of another

When are you now? Concealed behind the handsome surf
Forward-falling and dinely cast mouths
That taste our synaesthesia
The fever of our darkest moons

You forward nailed in stretches,
Sewn hand disappearing beneath undulate circuitry
A glancing shape altering and timely arriving
In a shallow underside

Like the rain
Like the sorrow of birds

In your closing eyes that renew a naked glance in gloveless hands
Your stockings removed
In hand-some mourning
And the collision phonemes that are your bones at dusk

P

From then,
to you, from
legs below tables
though your mouth is the snow
tumbling off teeth as if off shoulders
though tin boxes rattle inside stone and
unfold beacons like red plastic
a deception whose hand you see
whose hand you look at and see
whose hand you hold in your mouth
and around which your ears coil, grow heavy
and fall asleep

Rapidly like folded scenes in pockets
like a gesture splayed moist and
gagged in the hair of a walking man
touches with hand spines, vertically
assembled and vanishing vertically
shrinking eyes that coalesce in
sea water and storms. A swelling velocity

Walking, nestled in porous wool so the
ice gets in and so legs fall like water abruptly
sandy soles dismembered and
forgotten on the top stair
recalled by the wind who pants and
packs grit and salt against the windows
It is a full city block of sobbing window joints
and the bones of your house, loud from all your blinking
eyes in turn, first here then

Scales of sober weight, dressed in gnostic black
you with your hands like religion
with your mouth like dragging
like heavy stones

Staring variously and
tiny sounds as insects or plants
the colour of distant grey and
touches width
or the burgeoning depth of dimension
saccharine vapours to broach and stifle
the types that crease entire bodies

And when, in two, they collided
blackened eyes, warm membranes or
vessels packed against distance
in two, our two hands inside splayed
and vanishing
your ears who are dreaming create
anew a backward crawling scene
that backward folds and encloses its own
falling backward so serene
that thing if inside were so
and jointly nestled loud with
the sweating snow

Arro Sy

Always you and your rusted cellophane
stretched and drawn that the wind won't touch
curving faces battered by forceful
charm like polite branches suspended
in shadows
shivering and ringing white powder

Across four dozen rails, footprints
in clay and your face inside your hair
freckled brick enclosing you like a hand

the iron and sloping glass
a shifting amplified beneath woven cuffs
beneath pretty smoke
amidst the shoes filled up by other elsewhere feet
gravity is immense and you
the collapse that confronts cell
division, aggressive matter deflated
by the sting of the bells that you taught to me

clusters of eyes become plain and drawn and
white cuts colour themselves out of the ash
the same as the frozen light
the last of the words

the final edge that broke atmospheres
into silent drifting boats
two points and a river breathing
distance gazing ambivalence
and fingered silt molten
the inertia of melting things
and in nearness the fractal grain
the complete forgetting that are your eyelashes
and falling hands and sleeping maps
in the bend behind your knees.

Sediment

And something that transcends
the chalk that slips you
up and diagonal like
grit that lays
wanting
waning, dry in tiny hairs
the wind collecting
i'm all icy when the day breaks
vestigial as trophonics
your words make me necro
rubbing dust
to reach your origin
your lefthand x and y
stay, break it
to me softly floating moon
with ribs that smile
a deft molecular smothering
cause, you know
inside you it's all cacophonous
mess, all quantum tantrum
sine waves
light's like a reprieve
to be only eyes with no skin:
melanoma soma, aural
catastrophoneme
softly break me little sweeping face
your image blur, I torque you
face to summit
call-in-climax
clipped and coughed
opaque cheeks dripping off
ecto-paste on white lunar digits

olifac

gladly defected to you

bespoken

your tipsy bicycle gasping

just at the edge

of the curb leaning

pressing backward into

the front of the wind

before the past named you, 

an interview:

spilt across crispy tiles

thorny leaves of darkened letters

licking the iron grid along floor length windows

in an apocalyptic moment

a diving bird resurfaces limp and shivering

a cashew curled jutting

along its vertebral ridge

the first of the dead ones

we awaken at dusk in another place

passports dripping sweat and sea water

our bodies shameful cabinets

barking organs

like hearts called mutts

like drooling claws trespassing

in the mire birthed by lonely guns

where the snow rests frozen in my palms

murmur

dynamic satanic sarah takes a sip while no one's watching

waltzing aura autism, a sting of dyspepsic pearls

popping up all over, circling

throats, choking morning from a cheeky crescent moon

sandy's gizmos for this and that, galactic taking on red shift magnetic

impulses bracing in the lunch room

my silky bandits have rushed out strolling in the spaghetti strung afternoon

they're lifting dazzling particles off all the little matter orbs

and filling their lapels with starling moments that swell in my head

and now I can't hear no thing

and now I can't taste you, are you there?

pinprick machismo. I know you're going out, gone out tackling

cement cosmos break on entering your aural automatism

I guess it's all electronic infrared 

gyroscopic pitching full yaw, less then

anna fopped by dandies

now she's decked in vests and 

feathered bracelets

stepping out of loafers to spray cyanide up cuffed pant legs

inside it's poison under the floor

puking diamonds at the curb: his dream to exhibit and her a faltering
gait against me all the time thrust amidst 

an ellipses
bent to jut and spinning in the ghost of
an unseen circumstance

I.

In attempts at parsing this lunar landscape

dusty darlings cast, like shadows, deafening

magnetic interludes, fastened 

sutures growing taught as you curl the corners 

of your lips

I could ask you, isn't this the listening?

the way we uncoil earlobes, sensing cells, decaying, hesitating

I know that nod, ineffable, you tilt, a canting

square of melody inside brilliant pearl havoc

Have, Okay, begin again, point, plead, tether

we weren't watching, only becoming, with no gauge, a fraction

of this severed silence

reaching a threshold, the gods are shuddering

cock-eyed, a credence to their pervasive absurdity

I had no doubt, you were authoring the interstices,

spectacles beleaguering the severe slope of your brow,

the moon only an afterthought, held in contempt, a night-paranoia

darkness would only be absolute.      Our laughter peeling

emaciated, aural as a grin, senses breathing and 

tugging at the corners of the room 

touching elbow to elbow and outside the sky is growing dense 

In all events, it hardly matters

my love has grown like infants

and in an instant it is spent. Am I his thief that carried away, forsake…

It's barely noted in your intonation, we speak like sparrows. A cap of

broken resonance sitting atop our feathery heads.

I desperately want the pieces you are holding, like

circuitry, your comings and goings remain undivulged and ruthless

in tact: it's only such a shame i weren't your pocket watch, reigning

silver-tongued, shaved to gleaming surfaced 

out of which, within your breast 

pocket, solitary as a button

parties that last too long, I only came to touch your face, and so

numerous signals have loaned their intuited scenes, hooded and sewn up 

facing opposite granting heaves of drone

i know a bus stop where there is only the frost, where the fluorescent street

lamps lie about their age. and the only lines that force my existence

ascend like reflections; it's all i can do not to float into the fog

rosy palms flattened against the sky, collecting salt