Small Axe Books

Drinking sour whore wine, waiting for the bastard to show up time’s not passing slow enough so I can’t pick its pocket, school of fish drifts through wall to wall, must spend too much time ‘round folks trying to eat’m cuz they close to the ceiling, too far up for me pass my fingers though ‘em for luck and could really use, I need it, scum fucks slipping up my deal already, I’ll torch their village, doggies gonna chew on their charred bones, yeah, slip it in there at the base of the skull, Hells! good slimy shove up, down, get inside to get outside, get tangled up in five directions to break into neg’ space ripping down pride-way of life glistening so greasy tacked on ruined walls, well tea-kettle looks like just you and me, scald myself with your clear bile to know better what inside rains amphibious cock-womb, scarlet neutral crotch stoned before storm plow deep, bell cocks rising with the horizon vibrating in moonlit care of void twaddle fop, scarred hip bone of cow harp melodies rapping ‘gainst my chin as I go down, face knocking stones pain blearing into beats sung sugary under my skull, cracked up flinging over paradise rotting smells better that way, gets you up beyond it’s tickling cunt finger splat sand in my eyes tears and swirls glowing deceptively in patterns, flea bumps into a hurricane, ground up to add spice on top of coven roasted head stump, child plop, cilia wiggle on your skin, up your nose, scream with your teeth, delights heaven hung-over with glass shards dropping from its face cutting down cherished streets and roads ending up in circles, well what else to expect? Don’t polish glass between us just kick hard enough so you won’t mind if it cuts you coming out, I sure hope it slices up other people, a cur can dream of flesh pooling under the cracks, dripping with worms, primping with scales catapulting, wires underneath skin props it up, dawn came in pixilated and no one notices and those who did are delusions clothed in membranes of bacteria seeking shelter, pine trees tell it better than any ghost pelt and slick prick’s up truck ready to take me, that road hits like an asp in the ass, coiled up cold waiting for the angel to pass by, sinking in sharp diagonal sleep-plots, then trampled to death but I’ll sleep with the one I bit tonight, if the sun’s knocked off the table, light rays shatter into grit, I’m rooting for the serpent wearing easter feathers under it’s ten, eleven o’clock eyes, may you swallow rocks and turtles whole and digest in tombs what you read between the dance moves of stars falling down heaving up undigested whisky cyclones burns holes in construction never finished to begin with blooming maggots like candy, strung up to dehydrate so can be rubbed against sulfur gums crying purple for relief of tense flow balls hitting windows and they don’t bounce off, rubanosa teeheelium build-wha? When I saw your face crows flying off with wilted flowers dropped on peasants like bombs and they ran as far, crouched under walls no longer walls, ceilings now flower beds for skeletons, frosted silk keeping inside what digests out of color into piss-white word on frail paper limed under spotless cars rolling against abstract designed to ensnare clear to mean business signs whoa neon get your gums off my suit of soul tattered fuck roped spells juggling spider breathing hoped for child is strangled and broken wearing skin of stuffed animal but he can still be president someday, that cork looks better in eye socket than you do, check, its five in th’morning, take my blood if you’re so worried bitch and let dreams dissect what’s left of sac containing bone beads, indigo, harpsichords, oh ho ho, condom dried onto sidewalk, crust lettered cum moldering pleasure felt from behind so long after, well it unnerves when it comes back from dead saying what you claimed never to forget but wanted never to recall, hat makes you look like priest orifice, blender take this arm in union chunk meat spinning holy matrimony, scratch off and win dog searching for lost tick under floppy ear to be cut off for visual verbal ferocityphilosohy, they gotta cut you for your good and hope-pure, got to be unsoiled so drill in brains to dig out frog eggs left by stupid mother hen when she was baking cookies and forgot you were more than a drawing taped above the room leading to stale fur, hair still clutching skin flakes, speaking poetry sounds better as nonsense magpie cries, royal swelling feast think they’re people, baked to take the shape of tin spilled into, tire rolling alone, tied still with shoe laces, plastic bottle floating over testosterone clouds inky film punctured by white fish belly visible over hundred feet away, ripped rust crunch slammed fuck damned, honey on your wound bee sting in the soup, silver egg venom end her noon elegance invading goats, host ill telegraph now, I’m managing but hurry up, numb agent can’t find sleep on way back from slow fed squalor, then wake everyone now, tell’m yesterday’s holy twat risen as evening bull break erupted, like a virus, surprise you’ll never get.

thought i’d continue to embarrass myself by continuing to post ancient poetry.

i wrote this in 2000, two years before dropping out of high school.

for the record, this poem is fiction. i hadn’t yet met my father, and when i did, he didn’t smell like pot.

didn’t believe him
at first
coming at me with
that creeping ivy smile
too young to be sweet
with anything but Princess Leia
wet dreams
until he opened
his locked drawer
(it smelled like Dad.)

My father built this Monster
Because his father told him to;
Its tentacles stretch to the moon and back
Like the fibers of my brain
And they’re just as sticky
And brittle
And strong.

The Monster lives there
Inside my skull
And it stiffens its walls
Like plaster, concrete, titanium
Over generations it has stiffened
Like a baby’s, thickening,
Into the tin hat my grandfather died wearing in the trenches;
Now I walk around with a stony saint’s graven idol
Hanging off my neck,
Making me bend and bow–
My body but its pedestal.

My mother was a Sacred Slut
Like her grandmother’s grandmothers;
Daddy cut the softness from her
Her center, her channel to ecstasy,
Because, try as he might,
He couldn’t come as hard
As she.

Now this Monster
Who I’ve never seen in real life
Or touched
Because of the thickness of my skull,
Gives my children
Skyblue images of their grandmother
Encased in plaster
For them to light their eunuch candles
Beseeching her kind, dead face
To give them kisses,
From lips whose rosy fire
Has long gone wan,
So she might strengthen the walls
Of their hearts.

Once, she whispers
In long dead tongues,
We burnt down these forests
So that the pinecones would burst
And seed them anew.
The trees need those fires,
To grow their children,
She says;
Now the weeds have choked them,
Till the weeds themselves are dying
In the clogged, drained soil.

And the Monster despises fire.
But It doesn’t know–
And It has never known–
How to bring rain.

Before he died
Fighting the Monster’s Great War,
The Last, of many following,
My grandfather told my father
That he once went to the mountaintop
When my father was a baby
And almost slashed my father’s neck
Like a prized virgin ewe from his herds,
Because the Monster told him to.
And he told him
To sacrifice his son, someday,
If he wanted to be a Good Father,
As His Father was good.

And, sometimes, I wish he had obeyed him.

Because the Monster will not die
Until the softness in my skull
Escapes, into the open air,
Fecund jelly on the earth;
My skull, like a pomegranate,
Cracked in Its eyeteeth.

While you’re sleeping disease machine long junk-jerk turn’d-over flesh purple-grey every cells excited to eat at last twitching no good for waiting liquid tentacle produces into space what suits the cries of reality’s crumblefuck to hell and back, could not contain and so you see hollow skull shattered forehead kaleidoscope glittering in pupils serene, ol’ cold yonder last seen wandering at noon no more, so long, may your teeth serve you well

hands gently sliding ‘round neck squeezin’ til burst, pulp blasting outta fruit gather the seeds, we feel and so do you, see it really can’t be any other way, but when you touch I know only ruins on hilltops coming down at last, let me die, let others take up life for me, spill me forth for I am nothing now but grounds, what wild calling grew falling down but without shame, no doubt of revival into ghoul wallowing at the feet of sideways pillars toppling before the sacrifice is served, observing what was lost and left on you face transparent, rise ‘n fall swaying cobra beguiles to swallow whole one seduced into their own death, sittin’ in gutters, bottle shards smile friendly, happier ‘an people, those pale projections of old news footage walking down city streets, no idea they’re just photography

morning smells bad, odor smacking me ‘fore I even wake up, dreaming of carrion maggot perfume, opening eyes to rotten plum carrot eggplant jalapeño orange stew juicy fleshy pulp spilt, colors melted together five million unpleasant ways. not alone, folded up inside crying parrot, my face ridden simultaneous pull-pouncing in all directions, decapitating cannibalized content to stare sublime fallow a strung up treasure luring tigers to impaled trophy wall socket gazing. What to trust, eyes frosting, glaring, gleaming acidic, obsidian-edged, felt-tipped leaving blurred lines, coked glass wall stains, devil’s sugar plummed fingers tracing designs on steamed windows looking out onto night. reflecting my face a bug on its back legs curled into bat flight, flocking home to sodden chest cave lips glistening blood fruit sweet, stuck with moth wings as I move pretending my open eyes behold the world they abandon collide entropic light strung juggle up ruined crumble fall finding coarse beats and gay despair, oily space bleeding cric-croaking moon-howling rust tracks cut up crass fields followed so lost, to see words in dust pressed out eyes with spider needles held bone flute crying do what thou will take me fractured flung on shore dried out fish husk shining in sand puncture-danced by raven-beaking harsh cheek strained to hold water, fallen desert cask taken down stone walls, cull’d sat with no head laughing die upwards falling to glow behind sunlight so fang-slurping serene spilling mint tea down shirt while sipping invert navel-grating eager-raged adder meat guarded under Ares’ rape-fuck murder child spilled from Eros’ cut stomach dawn guts unraveled light rays pouring all ways out, touch jump jab, poke and pull roots red squiggling shrieking feeling holes just left can only pulse so lonely.

This is a test gallery.