took a photograph of sunday night then blew it all onto a wall in paint something stirs in the brittle light – almost like your first vacation’s abrupt denoument; studio sounds erupt into white (the power’s down) this wasn’t scripted neither were your forearms’ shudders – closing in on abstract stalks that make a silhouette…

Sleeping through the pouring rain Filling up the lakes and rivers she Came to my dark dream bed & Read me stories from a strange Book (turned the pages like a Grave & held me close under the Nightlights smoking marijuana in My mind†- trucks speed onto Autobahns while phone booths Hold the sodden homeless…

a silent cartoon wanders the non-descript chaussee over bridges it casts its chisel comic-book shadows illuminated by a passing policeman’s truncheon light as air; that withered stare turns flowerboxes to stones or the dogs to barking fruit stalls there in the internet cafe glare baudelaire calls burundi for twelve cents – resenting the booth’s semi-…

harrison ford had it made in indiana jones part three fucking that austrian woman in venice – ah venice – as they slipped under that radar beneath all the clanging sunday bells of canareggio … meanwhile sean connery (presumably touched himself or his manufactured wig knowing that once they reached the castle of the gestapo…

What’s the story, Ludwig? Have you found a perfect View? What did you have For supper last night? & did The swans tow your body to Sleep? What did you find in The gothic skylines above Your wooden wagerian bed? Could you go once fantasy Faded? Did you hear music In the reconstructions of Tristan…

round & round the imbiss i go scurrying hither or screaming thither wound on sugars & holiday gases with my turtle backpack & my plucky green hat they cannot catch me! cannot know my moves the yodels that maintain me i delight in my terror & underneath this shirt flabby muscles quiver (my brain goes…

you can see my moving parts by lifting aside this curtain here where flesh is fused with my mechanical arts & all is encased in polished enjambe- ment … tiny wheels enforce this rhythm trigger reaction maintain flow – while clock- works monitor internal pressure & signal the hours like early birds – i sing…