Dream Lubricant

Cave Canem: A Special Section

     I won’t dance, don’t ask me

Chantmask; obelisk . . .

oil drums playing, tycoons sore afraid two arms cannot tilt the clouds flat maddened gulls find the sea by night air whistles poles of light

beauty yesterdayed crushed angels wearing green      memory of women’s salty voices a stare hard & wet put away amidst angry bed sounds red hat from heaven blinks bright the room fingering dry stone in neoteric backlight

neck of his guitar an inadequate sky      breast pounding haunted boy      a nimbus jangling behind certainty become rumor morning slow as manna lonely bread whiteness angel child making light of peace before evening      nowaday women become hieroglyphic art

eyes sending cease contrite promises vast blue rock magic sad pie ache silent I wantmyself to have allhe cannot have

goodbye tundra of yes