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Hair Land Poems Zachary Scott Hamilton



Indirect dawn Theater seats unfold; twenty five yards of aluminum foil in seat shapes coil around an orange extension cord into the flower of light – a stage made of glass wings – rotating at ninety degrees. Successions of thistle wiping layers off of frontal lobes; in a mineral mars-black, so deep in darkness two lights exit. Through a crocheted past moment lines of civilization replace the white room bouncing coil off of corner cut, Eugene station record show wave of scrap metal wave deteriorated wave soup sample bouncing mirror deteriorated laughter multi-verse

Slow opening

Fact or throat control? As a vertical content emerged from the route of rose quilt, inside of her sewing red soil, she grows her furniture out of leaves as little hearts pour from her dress. Eve danced the lingo, along umbrellas, the long lonesome saddle stitched highway of her dress climbing down the ladder of hilltops, in ant piles Three days later the wigs are a flame, twice, like retro oblong word canoes; a slippery fire of lichens mesmerized with lunacy. A fire of life peeled back in here the way bobcats enter from a quarry – then a clearing into a Cadillac. The thin lake runs under my pillow in a mescaline river. In a dream, the river is crushing through the city, expressing itself against the walls of the ruining haze of pavement. A rat ship is the only survivor that is floating through downtown. It is a dark gray cloud, haunting the death. Black water rinses the pipes, and we are part of the group who lived. Hanger Premixed alpha rugs, light tapestry woven in stone-alpha hangover – piece the light Rust Clothes happen passed, they live, they happen by. The wood grain, teal,


fibrous-satin flood Hamburg Aliens eat control out of the light; the shape is eating at the stove, a broken diaper, dozens of shattered ceramic feathers. Curtains Wanting the elbows of the soup, a Plexiglas theater folds near us. Shirt sleeve casting a thin light in the blue paint. Eventually The toast flue, the bird’s droppings, thin perm – blue Chevrolet flies break noses, our soup found in the curtain box Origami I wish I knew my pillow; the shoes are on fire. My pill bottles melt in your dress, I gut these shapes, and replace flowers with the cave. Oh, that's pretty gorgeous, I thought a line down the dark. Human hands Sleek fierce twist goes joining fierce twist, the veal arms, caught on the barbed wire of the sky: for heaven reaching into man. Waist deep Thin gruel disease, thin over me. Hearing aid and fist stretched far into the shades of this window I eat meals in a dimension but I do not remember who you are. I eat twenty three flights, I inhale orange rain coats from the entry way – ingest the flesh of sex organs. Enter Pearl geese climb into the wind, folding out a back crystal of the peacock feather; moisture drops a bead of water down into a well and walks to the

park with a diamond, gazing back into the eyes of his pea-coat shriveled face. Teal folds Paper tears are very real slivers in the eyes. Cutting the blood out of the cavities in the brain, and folding me away into the shimmering shell that I have become, a paper of things, the drool – a thin blanket of fairies, dreary lines across my parachute. The peoples Alloy unfurls the thin grease, for the dirt in portable sandwiches, an old aluminum underneath. Chairs in rose Endless pipes in heart, felt hands, examining room, Leaf tools pertain to microscope-thin green. Few know Harold inside of the wooden-sky line. Fur pills drop sectioned throat, down through the basket, down through the water, down to the bottom of the well: into the light bulb, where air and water are servings – a felt friend. Tried spelling this with a cigarette A moss sequin shirt; thin suits mash up team. The clouds fold over our shoulder – a reflection. Right root steps out of the camera. Rust hamburger Layers of wax absorbing the meat of holes; strips of cloth, filled in wax, clogged with rust, layered with wax, clogged with paint, filled with wax.



These centers

Valve of hack and raked ink feathers, blood diamonds and mist – A vehicle made of snakes – The room tastes like braille your breath smells like braille your mouth smells fast the rocks sound like braille Valve a hack of raked and feathers, blood diamonds.

Habitat 9 Quartered oven amphetamine, aroma in lakes/ the thought in freckles. The hand of a dream, leads goats through an aura, parked in the sesame seeds in its billows. Fractured thistle for hair, fury thought cave/ an internal polyester, painted by window instruments – grows a curtain for habitat and underwear, for eroded inner light, feeling this out. Orange dressing gown painted with cigarette butt handles, in orange peels, and folded Tsatsumas in the weave/ potable water included into the dressing gown, growing more curtain. Quietly open the dresser, and find wanting, with paper flowers wilting. Forks lying twisted at night, curling beyond recognition into the woodgrain. Nails of the worm that the plates have stained orange with string, a twilight inside of the wallets, the wall inside of the kitchen that tore under thought, when the eyes left from the closet, for a moment, and entered a room.


Brand new pupils

Ice angel collecting wire terrible – cold, granite feet uttered silk in grass hands. worm will worm an abscess of silver toenail polish thighs curl - wet with her moss and her feelers and her concrete. It is in her wings that our diamond things wander the threshing Mobius, petri machine melting flowers into wire - iron this is the Ramblers cemetery where he worships the drip of light coming off of her stone tongue. This is the ramblers new secret that he drifts in from dark pea-coat, powdered skin.

To become red

The stab is felt and string, unhooked umbrella the ripping sleight of hand under the fur of light an arm is picked by teeth under the grass - a photographed voice is dissipating A pocket rag shellac unhinged in arcs. Dissipater knot his lonely voice was wolf, the erosion coil. Unreasoningly meet the forked up limbs of latex disguised yarn in augment; A modern woven gauze of detailed clocks. Under the bathtub, threading glue to film the birdies enter crocheted rapture rings. Our rare and delicate unfolding radio is mouth and talon fatherland. The umber Elysium hat, a fatigue detailed in blue. Oh, feeler, electron over the universe of stitch - the kin entanglement cloud. In ink, all paper dots unglued the fold with microscopic eyes that drop in place. The forest stands out late in names unknown Eatable trees line the oaks to corners door we chew into the thrust lock are our eyes driven by brown inside the locket - shredding - those houses with fine lichens scourging hundreds with groves Our leakage of dream in songs our garden and list the hands raise to the throat songs to touch your voice in sweat(ed) Monday, she asks my


braille thought crashing from noses from fog of the skirts drowning hands in sway of the room dancing ghosts hold each other, short mustache, short skirt, long leggings crashing out the checkerboard dance Last dance grows legs and sudden as it rises, turns leaps to life under the garden groaning throat drips hurled out to ocean, a shark circling the dance floor, a fin dragging wake on stage, on guitars, a drum slams out rhythm, shapes rooms with rhythm a ray of lights, ghosts dance on checkerboard games. My Manichean hands cut across ceiling in thrown ink feathers after night pretends it sinks in steel. Are Eric's underground Shell Fish in total stillness, the beech in television tree, a snail and glow the eyes and Barn wood Owl.

Figure 68 The study, a little warp of yarns, enough light for a bird paints the wooden entry way-- pair of warps the fourth pair lets in Unicode, light leaks off of one cord, dripping purple lake number 45. A girl hides in the rows of the welt, braided in her loop of thirteen upside-down type -dress related techniquestwisted in full Peruvian textiles. Work was done, the arms she emerges from within, pool the purple in the center layer of her hands, determined according to three types: the apron, the mat intersection half-hitch knot or blanket stitch. The Chenille pile is beaten into place Second loom: burlap, buckram, cotton canvas hand hooked into the cutting machine clockwise crank from in the curtain emerging thumb needles, hooked to floral designs, geometric De Lux holding the pile dyed thousands of years in Old world structures ancient draw, felting goat hairs, hanging from a slender tree form, Even today vogue feet explain this difficult texture,


actual needs that supply life to those who rescue him. Perfect need Along that carefully installed wall a divine laboratory kiss is set inside of the lace where Navajo Sash is found, Braiding some interesting hands out of the wallpaper from along the varnished gymnasium basement. The reel of tape has been correctly woven exactly the foundation for a perfect boat thus said to be twin spinning methods among the Amazon. Purple nursery rhyme revised in my headache as I look at the broken aspect of the tape recorder gone wrong, this is a purple nursery rhyme I must look deeper within the springs and speaker wire, the wheels and screws, the vent. A handbook of weaving, braiding. Twenty three eyes - bracketing dusk -

Violet glasses My son's mother wears My girlfriend memory in argyle socks that hang in the distance. It's a symbol that races through meat, cheeseburgers, rock and Follow it into the terror, follow it into a mountain. Pulling down the rocks and breaking through the symbol, shattered diamonds flip sides, reflect the others. The city comes into focus, a standing and a thin spray of color lay words down on the street. Broken thoughts hang in the windows, where a boat can flounder along. Pieces of it flying into the rock side, the mountain, the river spinning through 'em spinning down the Lego's, pens, and dragon tails, empty bone and empty elbows. The boat-it made eyes--


Wood smiles, it sees me and tumbles into the shapes: argyle socks and memories then down a dark hole in the mountain, tipping upon one side. Absent bone meal, set on stage within shattering limousines. Effervescent limestone on my head wakes me to the weight of it, crashing through the geyser. Makes me smell like mountains, I sniff my velvet, so much moss, so much funny blue. Stalactite dreams melting down me. Heavy headdress, lights a ruby (green) Sweaty armpit(s) down the river (slope of time) Hair at the end of a rooster and then floating up through argyle thoughts, turtles perched in a smile-a-dactyl. and then stalagmites and stalactites. Rushing rapids Rinse and repeat. Wake up. Walk home. Foliage. In and out Dreaming/rinse and repeat Walking/rinse and repeat Winter. Bone meal Plexiglas and snow in the stage-this is what we wanted to be

with the limousine squat. Home in everything \CY/BS \CIGARETTE YARN/ BUNK SYNAPSES “The view was excellent, my mind had conquered ageless barriers between dream old voice: and rubber and had definitely slipped and fell upon this new form of a human race, built on top of basins of rubber and plastic. The factories built yarn. There was a main source humming in front of my eyes, down the hill, rising from out of the ground, resting in plastic basins; a giant bubble or half sphere as well as thirty four similar structures, glowing in hues of orange blurring pollution that made the way only slightly into my retina as I walked.” ”PLEASE HURRY UP AND SHOW ME HOW HIGH THE PRE_HISTORIC BLEED LINE IS>>> IN THE DARK>>> YES, I WANT TO SEE HOW YOU WILL FIND ME IN HERE under all of these cigarettes strung together in new voice:>” GUESS AGAIN, ”What about the pig feet’s?” It struggles to hide a jar of pig feet under a bundle of cigarette yarn. NEVER ASK THIS QUESTION, human. It shackles the jar and it shatters. Don’t look up... VIRTUAL MADNESS COMES OVER US IN THIS DARK ORANGE CITY> Now they are coming in their cleaning machines. The buzz of their engines growls over the factory floor, It smells like skin and paper and pig, I taste fear and touch wet sevens.


BRAIN PATTERNS Palpitate fragments in all colors, in all cuts and come in all sizes: Put on year leakage and watch the radar. Ear-parts moisten, found-parts drown the soup of a pale room, lit in carpet -Cane and Able threads the burlap and numbers the times downward, through the toilet. Green filaments are party watching dials -groceries and double helix. Meta-data folding up, new bundles, old bundles. Roller coaster nervous system. (me)up into a mean machine, dumb and lost and worlds and either and fault and white and stocking and over thumbs, or now I'm back in the layer. An innuendo party, a layer on fifth street, a fifth street apartment clutching the raven accident shoulder patch double trouble,

five fingers eat, five toes eat, little socks eat - mean britches. A photograph for eyes - thin slits for memorizing A pin hole camera. Man memory. Killed thoughts with a slice of bread covered in mold, dumb instinct ritual ate a little too much at an English table, stained fake - water down the beers, sell them for more, thicken up the tea, use it for a bath, riding stones of two tone lightning


Boat dock The location started on third and fifteenth where Broadway intersects the walk sign the way a diamond intersects a punk show. [The sails were lifted up, one hand rose into the air in salute of the white flag,] a man in a sweater waited on Captain meat goggles. In the air (it had weight to it) A loner in the city paddles along, through broken heads of the working class, a man with an extra box in the boat with a freshly slaughtered warm vagina inside of it, where he dips his gloved hand in. Now it can be sensed curling over the land in a vehicular fashion out of the ocean of suits and ties from the parted hair and blood the massive boat dripping wool socks, loafers, sweater vests, slacks, cardigans wet with dogs on sidewalk The Captain wears aviator glasses and a thick red scarf. He rows the boat through their faces, He loves the smell of broken teeth in the morning. The taste of copper coming

from the waves of muscle and bone. Oars double as static on the green screen. Captain tastes copper oxygenated white blood cell count on cardigan sweater river and touches one mile per hour almost sinking into the crowd of hungry zombies.


tile floor in a hospital Chalk Bitter, eyelets at the ends of sleep into the other layer of me abused -- neglected Since 1922 (the year they loved me) The floor, some call me the walk, others, the tiles. The ones in their underwear, who wander late at night call me by my real name. The patterns. Above one green place dragging on and on in rubber black holes in growth bodies in black in multi-face pattern out of shoe scuffs. Shrieks down deep into cement land where cold heaps to one thick feathered edge and rats make homes in medical supplies left behind in '53.



REC002 Library of metaphors slowly lifting back the big, dark ceiling, exiting through the pages in an arm chair. See the language that reaps segues; dimensional crust of bread? (Coughs) Sex with eyes closed -- each shape remembers yesterday's simple design. In time we reach something magnificent unwary

unseen unforgotten unreal unimaginable except ourselves in the mirror in the morning.

No one-on-one will see the magic of our stockings (laughs) being torn from the ankles of our sorrow. [metaphorical holes in the fabric of our tedium, throughout/through in, through the orange moment pasted to walls find the vegetation of our sequence and upon the ceiling; vents seem like eyes, watching and listening and talking and frowning upon our existence, our levers, our meddling.] I smell snow, I taste cigarette butts, I touch plastic.

Pace makers and cigarettes ____________________________ Donuts laying in foam oil, in pink cardboard on the table lead silver smoke to the door from (esfutures cigarette of a carousel fragment, jutting forth membrane that makes room whites thin eye whites; the same membrane that allows sunshine to rinse red fabric and green fabric. >PIT<1011 We soak the library in processing matter and thrill on the sewer opening, lifting our harmony to the sauce which pours from the side, leaks into place a hole in the membrane. This is where the ceiling is located. Now, a tree into the bedroom; It grows on electric light, bottled in symmetry and ions and juices. The port of the root systematic unfurls from floorboards, shifts from ashes to orchids in a lake of our foundation. ?? A moment in warm tapestry for the visitors. [No one sits]People stand in the corners of the room, watching the slime grow the tree. ?? I get a transmission from somewhere explaining an abstract. [ {UNDER GONE FEVER OF THREE? >> HEART BREAKING VESSEL_PAIN>} {PAUL KING>NEW SEZIUUUREE< MOUTH JOIN> CARDIAC ARREST> PASS ME THAT CIGARETTE} {OPERATION COMPLETE} ]


Shovel//house//garage Distant TIGER TAMER #2. {grave digger}shovels out a reasonable amount of feet from the ice chest in the extra garage in the woods. to serve generally for his delusions. The one thinks thought doesn't give a damn about untouched garage door and thorough things: paint buckets, chrome alloy stacked in rare gray. Assimilated to blankets in the frozen straw field, giving off the impressions of doubt and long suffering. Humble death to humans far too gone to deserve destroying nature in the thought of tongue reaching to remark otherwise. Far too lost in the woods to gather their senses about them, their clothing to cover them just barely deserted forever. Human hands in the forecast of sweltering persona, doomed to birth wreckage from within its subtle cave. These are the kind killers of our time, the plastic remnants of a dream leaking into a forgotten area. There is no one living there in that house. Listen to the rain drip down, beneath your skeleton if you can, marvel over the substance, in this unnatural flight from a dream to the nexus,

his heart is held together with paper and pulp City//Kine-scope It's a wallet of hexagons, a periwinkle philosophy on cake and the bully. I see hungry pants inside the kine-scopeâ&#x20AC;Ś Nibbling, the hands of doom come closed together around the lemonade stand. I zoom through ghettos, clutching a respirator in one hand and the wrench of overt wisdom in the other. My pelt is a vicious satire, it is the lampoon of my ravenous approach. A small girl with a pink dress and blond hair becomes an illustration before me. "Nobody move!" There is a reference scan of the city. The airport terminal, missing the train tunnels, abandoned the taxi lines, forgot it bus stops, abandoned. Every point in the city is viewed upon a cool half inch screen. The picture is grainy. The thing is covered in crisscross. There isn't anybody to watch the screen as it scans, only a reference tape that is going to "parish" later on tonight. No one settles in but the macrocosm these days, just to watch the kine-scope show.


5th [Elkhart Celsius,] the H.Q. (sneak stack of rooms) “vacant” [–{opposite} signals] “compress to {dining room cabinet} of giant girl dog” (that quick,) that [awful] of a sound. Mathematically she is impossible in motion,

a near wave of “convulsive vibrations” in the “sea arms,” those tangled VHS tapes caught around the kitchen table – Our hearts have stopped and breathing dust from removing furniture, a carryover does fur skins, layered


our ruffled seconds and underneath, backing out away from the grave order, these things have been piled in, they've stacked up along the living wall and to gray ceiling

Red The idiotic, hanging shape of vine, rusted coaxial cable from the shed to fiber optics and city owned line â&#x20AC;&#x201C; there under the busted holes fenced dogs and poured ruthlessly over and storming reversible skyline


to shore, in a mist of salt coating air, (the backyard) a place beneath the moistest moments hidden down in the shed, a part of me peers up at the ocean coating the sky and textures the phone line of the house with my retina. A sandpaper grade, coarsest hardware supplies

offer to that running electricity. Sanding away their Volts without phase, no movement but the swift downpour of sandpaper greed, moving, microgyroscopic abrasion tearing it aside into the speeds of the current, where the take away pulled from in is quite fast. I timed it once at just under the speed


of light.

Red Speaker wire double threaded leg wise up areal coma, that speech writer living on brown chestnut stage expresses â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Doubt hanging in the audience( s ) eyes, a whisper coats

oxygenated, eroded silence folding with each hand in the auditorium video, that cable hangs. Gray dress suit we have seen perched on wooden podiums as soon as dress coats are removed. Tired eyes of the audience noticing car parts replacing stage props, the podium last.


Curtain sewn, bundle of windshields, a projector screen and a podium reversing the original form back to us. Hood of a Mazda, axle of a model T, the speech writer himself and some of the crowd (a collection of suspension springs and calibrators.) A whole show buzzes in, ruthless mechanical noises, parts are back

into seats. (Recognized further) it becomes clear that we had always looked this way. We needed fuel and brake realignment; the motor hums. When I leave la theater, I take a 23 point turn to get into an alleyway. This is what we've always needed.


Black Table turns [it feels all over.] Hands shape it that way, let's follow gravel labyrinth â&#x20AC;&#x201C; sure, sever ships (floating) dipped from the ladle of scars in the avenue half

rendered weekend to ark Lumens, rope taught for ice whispering (cold chatter) stuck [in faded blocks] coating his face(s). There, eyes think with a different curve and sickness, thumb on petting rooms â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Slightly turned surfaces keel,


(inconsistent chores and fingers,) pulled back along the (exact) red we have hung between the rooms and the ghost(s) near the hallway. Before the eyes are the windows, and hands reach through the daisies in search of the skies we meet the second hall around midnight shoving down

string and the blinds are pulled and we see the people behind the window. Show us rooms, we will slip past them. Our nights are us roller skating after dark.


Black Each bicycle parking along side the cobble stone storage house â&#x20AC;&#x201C; The trees, a boat through the lake In-woven reloaded diamond. Silkpuppet sound nursery tickles my nose. Forever to the mount

of Oliver, swimming boys ducked behind the swinging rope sky, a small silhouette runs through the apples â&#x20AC;&#x201C; at the edge their shorts, gripping at the lake shore, viewing these iris parting of leaves. Hearth birds of carried stick and rosemary depths in environmentally holographic strung


through peace wires, in this I found a section of wire where birds warp(ed). The sticks, a puzzle of unrelenting umbrellas. A spider rue delta â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Theater (doors in yellow) at the edge of the mind fork, through the ghetto. Lost pigeons handled with the inferno grip. An unsung platter of songs, weaving entryways and out there â&#x20AC;&#x201C; (in the forestry, pouring on the floors

of the bed,) a stone bird bath on the skyâ&#x20AC;&#x201C; In the 5th dimension The thin, wine light, coming through our bar-code dance â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Ice lime eyes with black eyeliner clock. Paper thin, crossing through fog on the lake, curtain boats fold the rim of the magnifying glass and enter islands.


February I. In the vein of touch sleep becomes the whistle of steroid vertigo – teeth arise in stamps of warm concrete and soft toes wander the landscape leading the way up along the castle through tooth impressions lettered across the floor. II. I'm wearing a cloth broach for supper in the shapes of winter nightmare, my facial features built in the twenties – garbage sight twiddles garbage fingers around – salvia lather

Next day I. Red secrets – tight around my mind are left to unfold horny and cut. Dots light the bandaged heat – a silhouetted beam – a circle maniac frequency Poncho engulfs the feeling in slater in bandaged heat – a wind breaker drifts the rocks over the ocean shore on on a gray sky in the Goonies side kick. II. Re-issued stereo sunk into heavenly miles we're tagging on the ceiling and girls have sex with me as I walk along the sidewalk – reptilians take over the city – our little boy turns into a female dog in the garage – big sheets of cardboard stuffed into my typewriter – this all convenes at a door covered in graffiti


Costume equipment â&#x20AC;&#x201C; severed onion ring

Red red costume red costume r ed

= 777 Red depiction dissection of calorie

Ajax Ajax Ajax



At the deli The shower room parsley benches a steak leafing through a book of poems snow droops sags into the drawing a dawn remnant. Stiff drink poor Albert A shred of poise turned on me with a mouse drilling cakes with a hand drill gets it all over my clothes, foundry emptiness in a sequel

Avar Raskin ii. Think white Dove light. Be the camera and record only white Dove. Now, record shadows. Think Corvus shadows. Be a mirror, now reflect light, and seek shadows. Now ice Corvus shadows, soak white Doves in Plexiglas, dip the damaged reflection in plastic, wax, or ice, and watch the shadows sink, the light fade, numbered. Now become the glass of a fishing jar, you're the fern. Now look on the oaks within a castle of lights and shadow eyes.


iii. Scuffed diamond house, ivoryemerald chair, a paper diamond in life.

i. Washing threads in long grass, the cloth is Simple Green going through, inside stapled edge, and dynamite Hawaii. The toy needle â&#x20AC;&#x201C; it is the entrance maker.


iv. Thank God, the fishing jar is making sense within a castle of golden Light, and crystal light, and shoe string people. A separate entrance comes into play, dipping ladles from the ceiling, very nice slippers for great Sally mouse, hidden by books, so taut in the threads of a fishing jar. A carpet, flashbulb window, for her little wall. She's sleeping – Shhhhhhh An ancient typewriter for Avar Raskin - a small camera with beddingchild. The kitty cat sniffing at a lock moves the odor, picks up the mucus on tonight. The jar makes sense in a truck show, something fluid. Green-moss light filters into the living room, acting as the dinner table. I'm washing threads in long, grass blade teeth again. Double –fractal – tree limbs reflect in the bus stop window.

Happy cabinet:: It's just the two of us flowers sinking into red prime mothers and lighter petals. There's a flea comb bridge to the clay walkway, that leads a burned down castle into the water the same way that a puppy bathes itself in MacDonald's. Saliva swap central enters grass hat and hat hair. Instant frustration sits at a cafe and eats a sandwich. A bicycle enters a house cheese burgers enter the house. Cilantro eats at the face of the house. The screwdriver makes friends with a stereo cabinet and a yo-yo on my-space and face-book so it starts emailing screws it has undone from walls in the year of the tiger.


One shape Lunatic felt was broken into a separate species. The monkey resting within my mind â&#x20AC;&#x201C; twiddled thin fingers upon the sun and a cute sleep depression in 6.5 beer swims through my stomach â&#x20AC;&#x201C; threaded in polka dot bed sheets and black pixies

Two shapes Sweet reference based linear scalpel, a parking sign sticking out, a liquid street bending. A broken telephone pole, hanging from a box in the line of vision Shifting across a white table, secret microscope, secret insects moving through to connect the dots and when I focus on them, they are simple specks of dirt rolled up paper, dirty grime in finger tips, seeds, inspected under secret microscope. The world unfolds, the broccoli-flower, a Mandelbrot corner, fractal iterations. The great beneath. A speck of dust.


Three shapes The sketch of death crosses town in a makeshift robot suit – every 666 across it's delineated forehead is wiped out with cigarette stains and mouth wash machine guns. Hatred lures in even the most stable minded lineage –sucking on a sarcastic Popsicle, and laughing in the background. Esoteric distance conundrum leaks from the radiator of my hairy yawn and plasters paint to cigarettes and vice versa – Every plastered cigarette comes around the corner blistered, hairy and yawning paint. Sheet rock malleable stereo types and lines in my vision hallucination Saturday # 14 and cinnamon foot and warped windows

Four shapes Segue bicycles all over the room, mini-legged cats climbing over the ceiling, stuck like with feelers on octopus arms, these two cross paths often, giants leaning into the theater giants on stilts walking across ponds, down the mountain into location, swapped segue bicycles stuck to the gums, the feelers, the ceiling.


Cur.tain i. We've seen armchairs yarned in factories as they take away great grandmother with cancer of the lungs, a string of long fluid woven into her assembly apt for a tapestry, a long room that is woven of her memorized thread of choice. A Volta television swamp floats until breath emerges gentleman like, heated from its length of rope nerve. Six looping pythons in one belt 4:44, a tilted mirror and a bookshelf.


iii. Theat.rics doub.led (/when spoken to/) four.teen mirr.ors The radio has got to quit following people into my secrets - I have seen the evidence of other shadows doubling with these voices on the radio. A four head of micron, swallowing outer arm crazy springs. Our life hair challenges them, Marquis Sylvania, an albatross equilibrium. Harsh bone puzzle hands twinkle down, to plant a Hammond organ growing from the soil (hours) plastic touching

our childhood.

He can play very well, his fingers ripe, his hands potatoes, a harm of fire towers giving birth. The year is reconsidered from a palace in the rosemary our mice neighbors twinkle fingers up proposed leaf ( / ) long shapes in hand-assembly. The shouting, undressing shallow end of the swamp

old pin point swing sets singing

our pearl necklace â&#x20AC;&#x201C; ink warped leaf fabric somehow diamond's



connected rude shelters, but argyle



Four headed television rug arcs to the necklace pillow butter, luminous hallows inside letters chiseled of ice weave, foam reflection â&#x20AC;&#x201C; lamp shade on lamp shade, tan pillow case, mirror maze. ii. A fragile, breakable exhale comes in through a python repetition of half eyes. The silk in my feeling is spinning anchors â&#x20AC;&#x201C; one way spatial relations, a low cloud stripes up sticks, a life can be a lovely beginning. A lewd, distracted light emerges, I am resting the speaker to your velvet thigh all rosemary arranged in radio, red language.


Molly winged and universal, she pushes air through organic bellows of sound, pressing keys into locks, hanging her head over the steps as a sad machine, I wish she didn't crush the universe with each flying door.

circus hurling, distorting inverts, collides, laughs sneaks out of bottles, eats secretly, whispers the story to the children, flips backwards Swims in the dark lake beneath the stone, hides in long winter Burroughs , looks for food to share with many mammalian, wide eyed, quick witted, collective, gathering, intelligent, compact Rats


Hard beats Stitched over yearning decay inner most Elm haunting threads, bashed, forced down shutters slid under belief, eating torched and grim Fair weather joining vertigo at the turkey hospital with a thigh dream in his pocket, dog face string puppet nerve lines enter our heads, our hands, upside down in our feet, muscles of spiral. Eating neat packages from the stars Animus is hungry from vertical tile, open snare, thin threat, an argyle snippet. Soft beats The oar takes little care across the green tea takes little roots in the river bottom, to emerge from underneath the sky, a luring arc of squid to the infinite salutations of a slumber, tea floating on the creek bed, a drop of sand is melting down the drain pipe, smooth fur to the china cup drifting by in the let.




Sound Collages Require a Leaking Light In the chattering of rooms, where sky wraps through blinds, air connecting and broken milk that the birds follow; with a wilted sunlight â&#x20AC;&#x201C; that folded flower memory, down, over the deeper jungle of this black Elm tree â&#x20AC;&#x201C; within weeping rooms.


In the hole they dug in the Earth Actually, you're thinking a glass of ex-rays drifts in jade. Mycelium strings hold ex-planet Islands together, greys, wire warped. Neither storm, nor [casting] sheds across the light, these felt arms igniting – no poisons. Losers in nylon, handling the shirt sleeve of the shore. Pour in dynamite, to the pool, from the top of the slide – out – from a box marked 'nonsense' losers in the shadow of the sky, giant falling squid, loosen caterpillars into ozone layers. Small filigree of diamonds – leprosy pulled blankets on the planet. Loose links, cherry orchard blossom painted to a mini-boat, floating in the breeze. A chance, to speak another language, to pull back mathematics in your hair, the kittens of your eyes – and – I pour in the tree fort we've built for you – Do they know the operations of a machine fort, all it's pulleys, all it's levers? (Exploded chests, birds of diamond take their wings to the air, motion radio in all directions.)


A rosemary chest crumbles open in the sand. the smoke clears, piles of tarantula jewels climbing out. Calm, glow of lanterns on the harbor. Earthquake house for a storm; a shifting wall, Victorian flowers â&#x20AC;&#x201C; You're thinking about an ex-rayed past, light on the steeple, curving over the black, shattered rose (frozen for three days) A sheeted martyr smoothed over with wooden fingers, Stem absorbing water from a near cloth. Wallpaper haunting â&#x20AC;&#x201C; with a long wooden finger. Jamb 91 moves, corroding, thin back porch fluids we've gotten into. Empty light peekaboo threads, along an iris from the shore, eyes, woven to vertical later, touching and for the servings of weave at fork into the Birch case glare there, at tin shacks in the dump tin hallows conveyed with tires like aluminum pills that drained to a motor robot over there day and circus with rusting roofs at the edge of truck lake. Tinfoil lenses in iron hair, strapped under the button, trail loops the [road] up the [road] shanty town Robots made of trucks, Scratching hotels, dames layered

door handles, swerving lights. Forest area crews of the roaming antler ship, caked in mud before neon mustache lights, neon in mid arch to door way welcoming crews in. Whispering you ice thread? Overarching windows, field of laughter, robots built of garbage dump fun. Juices carved out from corn and sitting in the center of the planet venus. I've peeled the pink layer back now. Ingesting juice of iron rays in hair lining the secret with hidden hat under the latex finger. Oh, pile the circuit boards on. Quote un-quote (Self) thought dinosaur underwear kissed the speech. French yarn tacked under the tarp matrix in overlaps- toward the blanket dog sitting in fish net stockings hoarded parts of the robot ford shark (one hundred engines left.) The fact is we, "drip juice" sheets under the blow dryer, for later radio carbon dating with a [] Miscellaneous rugs service


humans to the shed, people refused robot to drink a rose and crimson tail from the lions jaws. A pile of weaves, the subways convoluted, carousels, spinning a moment of bells, spinning children down in the dump – Cut out front, and place back stitch along the marks. After the ward a ship spills children in the design of the sweater painter a modern tapestry erupts – toy kids, paper rafts, a flea circus! Perusing the remains of the almanacs, looking for the right Refrain, the right Caesura, the right Haiku. So real Ilsa Bee, [whisper] either way wander your always singing and down through it trembles, the button dawn blue bell, Fuschia, Lilies, Chamelias's, Rose, Nasturtiums, back unzipped hat, to set up all equipments, so many threads grow thin lights, all wrapped up in stories, vinery surrounds a burning cable – lining – a ready made past. Architecture influenced ears, a tall placement. Either way, children are blue with water, missing places that the machine blacks out and encroaches tick tock luckily the drawings remind them of arguments, [whisper] either way

the platter of chicken feathers drips out, on pavements, under the wishing well, the fangs, the rim of his glasses forgetting the words, sound Machines [cuckoo] either way, drifting side long. – The carpool lane, all just sleeping threads – the vineyard: tooth 40 lights: tooth and more tooth light. Wooden utterance little light, I've a triangle legend leaf on, So, the wood floor is also the ceiling, the cell remember, in ice, [beep] either way when I'm on the tail of the fish, I end up riding a little cavern, and come out a week later, from a shelter, from a smaller cave in the sea-foam green or an orange is mouth where I shout rock under “ – Oh, now is then!” The shape originating weary mouthed in a repeater, DNA wound in textile: tiled in iris team.s.brea.k in the mid.dle Mice line the neckhair on aluminum spinal cord drifting over a sail boat, new words on an orange tongue. my shoulders [sock microphone,] that's neither cloud nor mother – eyes meet – theme in theme – exit neon-eyes


emergency. The shade of tire iron I am rolling down the mountain, miserable drool of felt, behind an alligator beneath the shirt is a belt for anguish an armchair spinning casual lines, like steel, radiation broadcast, I will sit lonely with cream cake outside my briefcase, a handle of deer horn nobody notices. [The bank opens in electric lapses] an over-whelming explosion the shattering lids, old windows collapsing. A new world smears past my briefcase, tucks its ears inside unicorn, cellophane, markers. Snow-steak masks, and a wing. Ears, eyeballs, cellophane markers. Pools, (bunny swimming) Haircuts/ laundry/ wars music in a shot gun. An archaic science of arm chairs, beautiful venom. Brain beauty next to true love happiness is also welcome at the drive in theater, a pen of shame, stubborn shoulder lights

yet ringing miracles out from the fur, in wind signatures. Marching backyard thick, through Christmas glowing insect light, a grandmother's house of nail-polish, gowns, Dee.r spac.e, A long, winding hall the purple doors, the brass line, the plates, all engraving Team # 1 fur, an adventure fur. Now blanket bells in windows, a wind-up dance through brass and silver, steele and iron. Oaks and Oh, the shattered velvet dance a sample two, window splicing pictures. Infinite tears, down on absolutes, with Wallpaper leashes, an old, red man. You will save him. An honor it shapes and whales in roaming sparks the February flower night orchids in jungles' tea, I see heat, The heat in cellophane Diction. You are cosmic sleep, as Indian lights are stroked by army silhouettes my record turns for butterflies and rats, and machines who eat the turnips that ancient one, fishing along the kill our august strawberry of dawn wandering red, so bright, this early sound. Time.s [beep] The Pyrotechnic qualm.The Pyrex quail. The puzzle queen (Anne's lace, n.) .The wild carrot. The tungsten umbilical chord,tungsten umpire. Umbrella valve.The sine-dactyl ,tabula floors,symbol cabaret,wrinkle yacht,witch-elm zigzag, yokel zenith, yogurt zebra. I weld wheat. I welsh wharf. I weasel stream.We water sled wax.We resin response.


Our mental meringue, and now for an in-weave Seven [cuckoo] Five bellies haunt the star-strings peek a boo The pale glimpse of a tide A core shed and equipment rooster One more influx, the cloth strip window frame. Lace rigs are stretching a chair in place before a fire Ice candy cane is around the door knob vision Our tape crossed walls, sun-dried and made facts. Swedish lines my hand, chiseled fort. Many braid looping. Positives needle neon knots of element. In england the place of knots resembles the hair of pigmented lace, talismans, an eleventh house of rings, a ginger, sickle grass. The armchair moves. A little away. A beat of bread to thickness alloy breast. An urban ostrich climbing graffiti dried Actually, youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re thinking A mouth is full of gold dormitory chairs chicken sleep, and silhouette â&#x20AC;&#x201C;

TRANSVERSAL Small ash is stuffed in the Corvus talons to the park, leading devises on needle knitting hours. Already woven of breath, as rusted skeletons, cola rivers, crochet hooked paper flowers warp and dangle across the atmosphere, Solar raccoons, glass shifter, tube of oak, now wire connection, now soft tissue, melon eyes, gravel, grass, and fertile soil. Glitter spills in the loom, in the hour of our shed combinations. A limon tile which is white coy pond ceiling, swimming in fabric hour. Small thighs tattooed with [lights] â&#x20AC;&#x201C; and Idiots among a wing, holy tomorrow, Bad Applesâ&#x20AC;&#x201C; Neon yarn Stitches the house to a factory's wall. Cages cross stitch, sharpening wires, sand to glass in a slow mutation of a silver chest.


Tunneling forward in the train of manatees, inside of a mucus the winds of thread and stone ice fields, leaves and green woven couch floating in Starfish. Sipping water from a teal bruised twilight. Drinking daisy’s from the glass temple. Babbling the lips of rusting, potassium rooms within – Just as much as dimensional Nova, the neighbors of sunset. Plays will occur in an oak chest. Heat will plan and discipline DNA strings with the fifth cabinet of a spring loaded now. A third flinched perspective layer: we water the windows – Drifting to solvent lights, formed of oranges, blinking to pouring, walking to line.

And inside hands, shelved along the diaspora, sphere or ring finger of life perches. cushions, solar waves downward circa [1292] France. Silver painting of the fish. Now, swimming circles through clouds under the seams, swimming in and out of spirals trained to the knife throwing wheelâ&#x20AC;&#x2022; Scoop the air into a bucket the saltwater layers, air, and cakes. The dormant isosceles of the Field, growing T-shirt taste for [breath]. Japan's [3d] glasses set on a shelf in the medicine cabinet. Purple worm like a dress in the micro world, in the crevices, designed around the dark, for the swim or infinite equations housed in a fear. Wouldn't it take up thirty floors of the cube, electrocuted pauses. Written through sounds in


the walls, so much dancing, apple wings grow saturated. Machine houses where oceans dissolve fluids. Light loosens, a light cleaner. Science group #5 lands upon the ready-made star, a photograph of technology's dead past A butterfly garden clutched in lab coat sweat on the train ride. Unknowingly clutched at its disappearing edges, fine, trimmed razors. Stars let open secret doors in the wall, followed by light lurks, white snow beneath carpet. Gathering dimensions, newsprint faces have seen the entryway. Numbered hours On the shores drafting a 'boat' in secret designed eyes in a need to kiss. Tortures that make

sense taped to later braille. Groups five and six transplanted this room with guitar strings, lights, water, the crown, cardboard heads, a chair, the table top, dust covered papers, the DNA, strings, an edge of the sky, always folded neatly around the shoulders. A broadcast on the station 12 roof top making little piles of sun on its transmission and Michelle's flowers. Silk hair dancing to the radio transmissions from Russian satellites until the night is shadowed In language, ghostly faces of Michelle, and Vladimir at the dark patches of the house. Little men facing behind the laundry room door after sun set â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Languages, corroding in our living room. A pair of binoculars grid the kitchen, and watch noodles climbing wallpaper to spell names. A Soviet gardener, Static, A late night pill, static, Static,


Static, silk hair is entangled with noodles, cooked to perfection. Walls corroding soft, warm light. Letters, an orange peel, the sky. Retro-fitted clouds, a porch landing. Circular Tuesdays, ship, crossing roses. In ivy shelves, the rooms pool into a [cup.] Science group # 1 decides to arouse the sphere, and call indentations a brain. [laced] in the diamond shadows groups put iris around the doorways. With a divine cut in the stone â&#x20AC;&#x153;biology,â&#x20AC;? saw-blades dissolve. Latticework morning of our garden into the [cup.] Woven lime to golden screws, Little portraits of the strawberry kitchen.

Picture, Cherry lines, ligaments, cortex, an opening. The lab's previous rooms collide, making one tall, wind building. The radio last night strung together the chimney to the person, the diamond to the scissors, rinsing out the old radio. When electric static is left on, radio waves wash the windows with a shallow tool. Surges of radon disconnect a molecule and iron the alley. Around the corner, disturbed birds disappear upon a wire. Lost to lights in cages and hoursâ&#x20AC;&#x201C; The waves coursing upward, breath strokes, headaches, finally a number. Caving in, the old hat seeds locked [rooms] in a golden entry, digits, arm chair maze.


Wooden panels Change form with the sea. With the citadel chop- Cohoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s part of the jumpsuit lays lonely in casing, jagged edge, Radio waves send nutrients to the house caused by removed dust. A black mold from the circuit board of tulip dangling. There is just enough light for a twig, in voices, built of a treasure chest house, stairs, shooting stars, fish in brass pond, and escaping light. Steeple of clouds scaring sky. The room with numbers, (sawdust, Dream, fishes.) Plants splattered paint, rooms that breathe, Nesting in the clock a Chandelier. Sweet, pressure chained Chandelier. Leaping onto morphed leisure, legs cross the sky a forest road down flames way.

A brand new felt, butterfly nozzle collides with the part that sits nowhere. Jagged to Winter. Down a rope for afternoon with Chandelier hands. Safe here, trail of window frames. The traffic and the transistor, whispering. Arms inside apple trees along a hidden orchard, mid future, draining wind, each other. The

rest is

found inside the transmission in picking up a new satellite. A soviet segment of the News. broad-cast thin lines and river.


The Russian satellite, the new planet Group 12 discovered, exploring time envelopes. Morva galaxy. gallons of black enamel dormant in rocks. Paper spiders coming to life on old Vegetable Earth â&#x20AC;&#x201C;

SECTION PRESS (2012) ____________________ 5028 NE 26th Street Portland, OR 97211 USA


Hair Land  

poems from the room

Hair Land  

poems from the room