This morning is a kiss
on my forehead

This purring cat on my chest
is the love of the Cosmos,
with a vengeance

This hand
steering the pencil
is the sharpness of my mind
flowing out of the dark

This rolling, droning purr
is a thousand barrel organs
between the mountains

The words amassed in these books
are pouring rain in aphasia

Fear of death is a roaring laughter
between my ears

The Now is more spacious
than the Cathedral of Nantes,
where a thousand wives giggle
'round the center of manhood

A dry tree branch from Great Mountain
attaches to the wall
like a Christ

The future
licks our behinds

Brains ain't nothin'
but spots in space,
and ”the blues ain't nothin'
but a good woman feelin' bad”

The world's great religions scrabble
on the walls
like cockroaches in the night,
dispersing in all directions
when you switch on the light
to go have a midnight piss
in Dallas

My hands sigh with pleasure
as they slow-dance
across the cat's red fur

My skull illuminates
with the eternal suddenness
of The Now,
ringing its violent silence of steel
and keen kisses

The paintings have left their hands
up there on the wall

The verses stumble
down the poems

High-rises high on dope
lean in over the cities,
cabs crawling the circuits,
the thin film of humans
a wrinkly wave of lust and meat

I'm taking this body
through the cracks of silence,
spitting and farting,
to a Mass of empty eyes
and dirty fears

A handful of thoughts ring
like wind chimes on the porch,
as I accelerate
into the diluting of homeopathy,
the shadow of my skeleton
mixing with the pattern of the cloudscape
marching the moors of Hades

I turn on the faucet of funny feelings
and curl up at the end
of this text