The Last Words Of Mark Twain

sax < strings

plays as gauze
to
lesion

what intake
ever so slightly

thumbs to formulate

a makeshift
by a spare part(s)

gods unintentional intention galore

splitting his atoms

because

we are a window pane
broken and quiet
breeze from a door

left slightly ajar

intruder
calculates singularity

to infinity
to the last words of mark twain

Angelica

aria licks her jowls
as i plead for continuity

and i never use vowels

be it tongue singe or lock jaw
or whatever

inaudible like me
nonetheless

a mona lisa poise
in black & white

and so youthful

starward angelica
thoughts i did have

she was
semen on a yearbook photo

The Colour Red

the color red,
the voice said,
may come in frills or lace

but needs only a tongue
and a recipient to taste

Kevorkian

human touches the sky

it's eyes no longer function
in this burned temple
a barren walled, condemned thing

not suitable for living

and body will separate from mind
mind separates from heart

volcanic ash from its mouth
and then dormancy

it's heart is a little cessna
tumbling down from the heavens

be there only a small amount of cyanide
it will always be
that it is cyanide enough

Twenty-Two

my addict needs
only the night air
a good sweater

and a bit of chopin

to repair damage
the liquor itself
does not inflict