More Than Once

hey kings
find these photographs
in a stack
in a rush of forgotten changes
captured.

see where you were the same
or where you never
gunned it
never took off the kiss of royalty
and posed for your own
silver on a plate.

hand down
your canvas
to museums
where your family removed
will pay.

hey kings
(or queens for that matter)
don’t be so sincere now
that you think its all our fault.

Parts

when we ask for the entire thing
the kings and queens feel no
obligation
to give in to
television sets
radios
photographs
describing our future consumerism
the great mist of misplaced desire
and lack of knowledge
lack of motivation
to change the course
of all things under the sun
being present and accounted for.

shake their tables
the kings and queens
and gather crumbs for
filling photo albums
scrap books
glass cases
antiquity
of dog food
exactly what we wanted in the first place:
a Babylon
ready to have its language scattered.

after the winds come
the kings and queens will break apart
on the reef of realization
the people will inherit their purple robes
of meanness
and send all our bodies to the brick factory.

Radish

radish was all I could think of
when you moved steady
to the backyard.

there is no red there
in the green grass
in the yellow flowers
in the flying seeds
no red or white
or hot waters (they are burried still).

curve when you walk to the city
the bent city
no red there but the walls
and the profit margins
all signs
and moving
singing
chanting
invisible
billboards.

i have seen every advertisement there is
have read every ad in the Parade
seen the programming interrupt the commercials
but i have never seen you
i have never seen the radish
and it makes me frantic.

move steady to the backyard
curve out of the city
lean away from the towers of glass
the towers of see through mirrors
and look to the last thing that holds its soul still
hot and cool
peppermint red and white.

#678 (Well Here They Are)

these words that feel good now
will be lost to stormy weather
and the boredom of needing love
needing the stars above to hug
me
hug the sky first
swoop down STARS ABOVE hug
these meaningless Ezra Pound words
until you squeeze
an expression out of them
maybe someone will stand there and
turn their lip under
eyebrow Spocked up
thinking
i wanted something stolen and here it is
after all
here it is glowing with isolated feet
stormy weather stirring it all up
into one dust devil tongue lick
well here they are
and they are everywhere already

said in the most perfect way by someone else.

What I Should See

consisting of a bed
and an arm
draped over the side
and it looks like a crime scene
but it's not.

what we all did that day
that night
going away
from the ears that burn
to whisper in closets
vibrations of dirt
he is not alive anymore
like a scarf on the coat rack
in August.

but the coil will come
maybe as early as November
so somebody
whisper again
before it's tool late
before that arm draped over the bed
cascading nearly to the carpet
one single drop of blood hanging
inevitable
falls.