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kicking you in the balls sandy blond hands tall as your dictator with toaster scars across his face he crossed Kennedy and walked into the McDonalds fished a syringe out of the toilet walked down to Jiffy Lube to bum a cigarette from mike the mechanic surrounded by the drifters and derelicts demure floral patterns once worn in pride I peeled off her dress with sticky fingers promising her hypnotism exotic psycho my fingers working her cunt guaranteed to be physical wide open fridge beer bottles cigarettes a quarter gram of crank incantation roast beef nation no mayonnaise an old dried up pickle all alone by itself on one shelf a half container of something that looked like puke the Buddha asks why throwing lunchmeat up into the light dead crispy bacon everyone is struggling to survive to cross over to the other side I’m fucking Betty Boop she is nine miles high and her cunt is a forest of tall evergreens she makes me think of Christmas it was wet like the river I think it may have started to rain I never sang for Betty I miss her now she has moved on into politics and now I can’t touch her without a ten foot pole she has handlers and security people and she keeps a pet tiger in her New York apartment several of my friends have gone missing I think she fed them to her tiger now she thinks she is brilliant because she is broke by the seventh race the bad guy pretending to be good freckle faced bags of weed hair in pigtails luxury and nihilistic tendencies to hell with your morality déjà vu her eyeballs shook her arms fluttered there were shades of narcissism under her fingernails this was war and I knew what I had to do Mr. Snow was laughing his ass off somewhere in the night there was a clip of eight shells one for each day and an extra for Sunday Frankie was always washing off his pecker I told him not to worry that Betty was the cleanest whore in Kansas City we picked her up at Westport in the dark house saloon she was sucking some guy at the bar we took a number drank four bottles of beer waiting for her to finish off the bar then we went to frankies house in independence he had pictures of Nixon taped up all over the wall he got pissed when betty used one of them to wipe the juice out of her crotch she put on her raincoat and stepped out into the mud to have a cigarette three thousand miles from home years later I met up with her in a hotel room in Keokuk Iowa she was born again and trying to save my soul I told her I no longer had the deed but I could use a little pussy if she didn’t mind at first she was telling me she was a changed woman that her heart belonged to Jesus and that she didn’t fuck anymore I knew better than that and eventually got her panties off and started rubbing her clit with my finger in no time she was all sloppy and as red as a beet she finally gave up and gave me what I wanted I loved the way she said Kansas City she said it like a junkie ready for the fix I was very lonely and had been traveling for a long time I stayed there for a month in Keokuk and played the drums for the church services the preacher’s daughter was giving me the eye so I gave her the purple throbbing devil in the women’s room at the church when everyone else was outside enjoying the Sunday picnic the way she straddled my cock I knew she was a common hustler and I was a haggard ghost somehow Betty found out about the preacher’s daughter and threw me out a great frenzy of miles with a hunger for booze October California everywhere America I have

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consumer highway up all night watching television stoned and forgotten eating another tv dinner hopeless arguing against the honking horns of capitalism get out of the way it is the invisible hand human seraphim opening up second hand stores along the interstate blasts of propaganda of mind control ass fucking firecrackers and barefoot cunts colossal bloody stream the blues of lady gaga she sings the verse and you sing the chorus  a hung jury ping pong games dancing in the basement with your sister she is singing in my ear Crowley’s telephone call he is inventing angels guardian or otherwise soup kitchen safe house they are lined up the stairs Crowley is painting the Madonna he is giving her cat whiskers more balls to play with the kitty is amused cement brains sobbing and screaming the fires of Moloch incomprehensible machine mad solitude floating down the river we are going to Saint Louis to gamble our life way to drink and be drunk forever Crowley is madder than I he is the insane one the crazy one he sees dead people the dogs of the senses barking in our ears the breasts of the saints bodies of pilgrims candy store doctors resurrected human stanza Crowley coughs all night I think he will die real soon we should call a doctor water coma roaring airplanes he crawled in through the window and stole the captain’s son it was in all the papers the shock of eternal war Crowley is playing with his toy soldiers busted rusted iron pole the red sky clanking greasy dead passing into the past spider web Oh my sunflower darkened railroad the house would shake when you passed by tongues and cunts an innocent curse a once powerful specter dusty vision looking at the full moon possessing everything I lost my friends in the wilderness the city of angels going to be the star of the tall book coming on a horse I could not stop I went to the pizza man I want to tell the pizza man joining the world the circus joining the circus for the love setting me out taking me out in an instant I can build it up three stories call me Ishmael put me on hold I am listening to your music the voice of a gecko I sought a witchdoctor for my vanishing the truth is a feeling that goes away I am removing myself the future is me the past is me I am current flowing through your veins I am primary a basic palette of colors a rubber fish she wants me she wants me to put her in my mouth she loves me I open my mouth and suck we are building guns building bombs and a wall for you to hide behind I build so that you can destroy a condemned criminal destined to die to rot on the vine looking at me sharp walked off muddy boots hands in pockets faces down to the earth no words of resistance no brave new world when everything jumped full of mad schemes an unlocked door owes me a few things off in the dark they saw it in our eyes the way we looked at the world a hand no more burning the plastic off of the wires her hair looks like something from the sixties the fact that I had a gun what a heart the guy had elegant and polite tones fighting in the backroom busted lip broken nose bruised ribs and knuckles such are the gifts of life opening my eyes and really looking at myself for the first time recognizing in me the freedom to dream a working class punk practicing eight hours a day building his chops I was lightning and thunder the gods out of the sky there was a parade in front of my house every day the synthetic voice gun metal hands bones them bones this is the way of the world I make your nose bleed

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soapy towels you were reading the footnotes and looking up the words you did not recognize I opened up the vulture’s mouth and looked for the treaty he had swallowed it nearly thirty minutes before I told Toby to get a knife and we would cut this vulture open we needed the map to the treasure she only wanted to dance as my face turned purple and I burned down the republic this is which I stand divided into distance and longing crawling into peeled noon drifting shooting the pills using a cigarette filter to strain out the impurities harpo was honking his horn greeting the garbage man with his wicked smile the American fossils were dug up from the ground terminal flesh the spiritual spine feeding on vegetable decay under amber flash mine eyes have seen the glory of the lord ruptured spines a sad little parrot sings for Maria the last fuck for Maria she used to be a nun now she sells portraits on the street grinning at the customers with a tooth missing she looks right through you scar tissue and shuttered room her statues of Jesus she drops her pants rubbing each other warring powers she took me down to her cellar I had a hard on that could last all night long my cock was spurting mother earth she is buying me lock stock and barrel the end of my cock glistening she wakes naked down on her stomach her vagina is open and welcoming warm muscle in white flames and cool mouth she is praying for the hangman she stretches her leg and my cock slips out she grabs hold with both hands working it up and down a cruel idiot smile Maria lay there gasping I tied her hands behind her back I pulled her body up onto my cock Maria gasped and moved with it her flesh like a hot wire sleeping under the ceiling fan the wind blows on her flesh lost in the delight and dead sea scrolls shooting up like tiny rockets I am slipping down her legs her hands on my crotch I am one giant spasm shooting white hot love deep inside her body I am whispering instructions to her skin I take her identity I take her body Maria is prancing in night vision goggles and a northern lights clitoris Cassini craters dance club drinks and dance club speak grabbing her snatch the dead are walking seeping through the walls kicking and yelping as her neck snaps it is three dimensional cutting or bodies down the middle a house built on stilts over a pond Maria began to twitch and mutter and fell on the floor in a trance her thoughts being forced into the mold she looked at me with empty eyes her mouth was moving but making no sound as I tore at her with white hot claws she was torn body and soul ambiguous objects her flesh lights up with a yellow flame turning the hydraulics her ideal of spit and polish pleasure centers Maria’s lips follow I rubbed her lungs and tasted her soft inner lips the universe shakes with lust waking up in someone else’s flesh raining on the metallic roof breathe in deep Maria our bodies twisting my cock throbbing against her spine thighs vibrated Maria knees down I fuck Maria vibrate blue frame she unbuttoned her shirt pulled down her pants and slipped out of her shorts my cock is half hard and she spread her vagina and I slid my cock in we were locked together taking each other’s breaths catatonic figures my pants are down my cock is hard she is dancing on my erection bend over Maria as I take you slow and fast a halo around my penis she is open out on all sides I can see all of her processes she is licking my testicles Maria’s body cannot deceive me bodies merging in orgasm and mutual

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friend that tagged along one night to check out a party I remember that she seemed to have a tired soul like she had been living several hard lives all at once she was searching for the promised land under the world of stars and factory smoke towns the greater visions of jeweled nights living a haunted life and stealing the dreams from the country ghosts another strange red afternoon the son was bending spoons and doing card tricks a small crowd had gathered to watch the son had a girl who wanted a new life so she came along for part of the ride she had a real enthusiasm that you couldn’t buy in a store she was from the land of the free and used to sing in church on Sundays I told her that I was a derelict Sunday school teacher for her everything was sharp and clear she saw things that others could not see she could invade and occupy me taking away the damage her brother played football for Iowa state he would have gone pro except he blew out his knee in the last game of his senior year he walked now with a noticeable limp he worked for a soda distributor delivering soda pop to stores glowing like scorpions if he didn’t score we played basketball in his driveway the neighbor lady would come out and pull weeds from her flowers in the front of her yard she stood there with a noose around her neck waiting for me to kick the chair out from under her the old man was making tractors all day he didn’t know that she preferred to play games with me strip poker in the mornings and doctor in the afternoons I would tie her up and search her for hidden contraband she could feel it way down in her toes spasms of insight she could see that her life was a joke as it emptied out of her no control as she laid there paralyzed my cock inside her spurting in her face sometimes she doesn’t eat breakfast going into town looking for Christmas presents for her family she drink way too much of it she doesn’t have any other bad habits but me she puts me on like an old shirt she says that I am really comfortable sometimes I hurt her so it is good to have space an adventure in taco land chewing her taco down and dirty soft and delicate she is so swank researching her setting compiling a list of basics potsapocalytic novel helping her fully realize the ins and outs seeing how it is done it is important to her to know what has been done I examine her from all perspectives drink slay and love her socks are off with a big hoopla is this about a hatred of women getting in the way of Darwinian evolution confessing to a number of people expanding into a parasite and host always negative bring in the peripheral undifferentiated tissue in a helter skelter lifestyle disclosing the normative behavior something that you call normal being sophisticated in your speech serious about experimenting with the inheritance the male mythos being a farmer and a politician you don’t have to do what your parents did dropping out taking the position that is available to them thinking of the impact we are racing to become different in our similarity a parasite on the host feeding off society like the hammer through time affecting the future there is no shame in following the footsteps something that is not stationary enough playing the game of sin landing your arrow in the bulls eye a life of scattering seed the portion not following the canon demanding a pointed direction the desire to acquire lips eaten off by consumer culture making pouches for their rocks of cocaine playing their flutes and being strangled by

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time while I make a cocktail and spin in my reasons the late night calls from the backdoor man never wanting to kid Jane too much about praying before she got in bed she felt to need to every now and then I couldn’t understand and I couldn’t explain beating me out the room a thin old little bum I jumped up and flapped my arms trying to complete the ritual to bring Santa Barbara back to life she was dead like a president no life no store bought candy no highway 101 to protect and serve the food was good but the service was terrible the examination of your large intestine walking nightmares America with her language theories debating with the lazy boy chair  the worthiness of her appendages she sought value were none originally existed composed in a visionary tongue the return of the outlaw couple and my feelings that everything was dead I suppose you could call it a sickness it seemed more natural to this life to me haphazard hand signals the one and only holy thing a shovel in the trunk to bury the body running numbers and the dogs having to sweat and curse to make a living a real Oklahoma side burned accent it was no accident that we met in front of the drugstore it was providence singing a country boy can survive I carried a five inch blade back then and used it to pry the door open most places didn’t have alarms back then especially backwoods dumps like this her hands were hanging in her lap fixed to a wide stare she never saw gods working before a surrealist woman in a serious room in the gray light of the day and the days dragged on as we drank beer all day and shot up the drugs she was awfully dumb and capable of doing horrible things the more horrible the better Tim found her on fourth street asking guys if they wanted a date without modified restraints flashing from the excitement rushing eagerly down the streets  the whole mad swirl of everything watching lilo and stitch she was taking notes studying the nuances headlong into the blank perspectives reaching the completion of the cycle it was time to move on to head down the road I sold everything and bought an old piece of crap that I thought got good gas mileage clinging to my work clothes and the ethic that was so hard to remove I had the devils cast out of me and was ready to go surrealist talk of tires and burning oil formal and shining and complete I knew that visions would be handed to me and the pearls of the swine we clutched our forks and squealed like good little robots we had been oiled to serve the industry to make the machine turn it turns in my mind still we burned the shack down on California street the band had been practicing there for over a year the lawn would be filled with parked cars in the summer everyone gathered to listen to us jam Toby learned to talk like a Frenchman and Willie sent down thunderclaps that put the fear of god in us all he looked like a madman with his hair all wet walking after midnight in the jungle the train yard was a block away and the night watchman lived at the end of the street he drank pbr and smoked camel nonfilters he had tattoos of naked girls on both forearms he got them when he was in the navy willie jumped on one of the trains and disappeared for three or four years he came back with a big scar on the left side of his face that he said he got in a bar fight in Kentucky smelling like the typical rank smelling body of America standing in purple darkness she had the eyes of someone I used to know a friend of a