Cadavre Exquis
	or How I Unplugged Construction from Sanguine

I’d like 
--you to have a Good Christmas
--to key your Buick
  because Your Love is likeamusicislikeacarcrash
  and it needs to die just for the fix.			
								Tick Tick Tick
You’re the arch-enemy							“Listen, man, you’ve
of all the lost writings							got the songs,
of all the great dead minds,							you just don’t
every salt grain swallowed							have the draw…” 
instead of being thrown back to the sea.				   		  Click.

Does your house burn?
God, do You pay all Your bills on time?

How can you look like that
when no one ever could?
O no -- no one ever could
        be so

I demand it, the in-laws
and the outlaws who behave in newspaper ways
and don’t get caught
‘cause they make the laws.

You’re either left or lost,						“Take that fucking 	
and I’m what’s left of loss.						Child Hood off your
    YOU WERE HARDLY THERE.						fucking Hot Head.”
    You are hardly there.
You barely ever were,
if “being there” comprises
compromise [love]
and subjects of objects…

The day that the king poured sand
out of his shoes for hours and hours...
You’re drowning your fingers in me,
and I’m close to extinction
	due to lack of…
Something.
A million people --I can name them--
  deserve it more than I.

I never meant it,
I didn’t mean it.
  Why’d I say it?
What else can I do with the
             buzzing barn of my mouth?
	
You grow some static,						“Jesus, I know what 
Dirty the tires							I asked you for 
In front of their faces.						Last year, that kindof
Rubber Shaman							thinking I was into 
Cooking curry --							because murder tastes
You were hardly there.								so good.
    You were hardly there.					But	this year, I swear	
								      I’ll find a way to hang
(Pot Shots @ theTopGod.)						a heart on a bullet
									On the sky and
Yesterday the trash can for Opheliacide laughs,		send a brick through 
And now you want my autograph??!!			Your glass-stained window
										Ifyou…
Love tunnels homesickness						Even Think About It.
Love channels							So Don’t touch him
!@ !% @@ %							with your golden fingers 
							Or brush past with your wrists
I’m throwing you a cigarette 				sticking out because you have
With a high you’ll never hit:						Fists of--”
“Do I remind you of Someone you will forget?”
	How could you?
“Do I make you think of him? Like, the right pose, the wrong camera?
That kind of thing?”
	How could you?

“Am I the one who will keep your heart wet					Beg Me
		and your legs bent?						Blind Me
Am I the one with eyes like traffic cones to 					Bless Me
		A love like a carcrash?						
Am I the new three-minute moment?”
	How could you be?

“Remember all those things you wrote about?

Christ!  That window you’re looking out of like you are in a painting--
It’s just another set of angles in all of
The convention of being wide open.

I mean, who writes anymore?
You’re tied inside a bigger time.
Who writes anymore?  It’s all
Begging for blindness of blessings,
This poetry.
You’re the criminal and the crime
Who does space but no time.

	You try to reinvent the world you were pushed into
	That day logic lied and you knew all we didn’t.
		Well -- take all the babies alive
			And the babies trashed
	And the ones who don’t know the difference 
		Between the Lush and the Crash…”

The dying cities never die.
Notice how the dying never die.
Fast forward
FASTMOREWORDS.
		Every kiss is a question.	
		Every poet is a subsidy.

?

And I may need to ask you to leave, then,
Because I’m expecting someone
To tell me of the vacuum of a wall.

I’m getting tired of talking all about myself all the time.

“What’s the attraction to being swallowed whole? Didn’t
Anyone ever teach you the Advantages of an
Economy of…Anything?”

“Listen:
I’ve finally got a job I can stand going to.
It’s just that fucking long drive that gets to me,
Like a burned battery charge.  I’d hate to see
What would have be-come of me if I had kept all
I was born with.”

“How could YOU?”

“I know the Difference between the
	Lush and the Crash--
	They come in mediums
	One lands to begin.
I know the Difference between the
	Lush andthe Crash
	One is a push
	And one comes last.
But God fucks up the order sometimes
In even the best of minds.”

“How could He?  What kind of God gives you a 
Mind to make up
But only for a number of years?
I’d only use the lightest of words.

	Listen, I’m freezing, I feel like neon.”

What do you mean?  Tell me 
How
That
Feels?

“How 
The 
Fuck
Should I know when I don’t even understand your new order?		  	   Well, shit.
When I say What I Feel Like, I mean That’s What I Want.”			   I forgot 
									   About it.
You want some neon.
You want some neon?

“I want some neon.”

I’ll feel it beating where it don’t belong soon.

“When you ask me questions, they’re more like commands.”

I wish you didn’t
--dissect everything, you’ll wear out those veins you use to rip muscles open
--
--
--
--

We’re both too dramatic,
Too much noise in the one-slice static.	Tricks without magic.
	We’re skewing the signal
And really making the sickness
			Into business.

How many times are you going to						      	 It’s all
	Keep rhyming the same words?							Queued 
	Wear out the seat of your pen?							Ruled 							
                                               schooled
“…You’re tabbing bridges again…”							tuned	
											used
“Am I the one who will answer everything before you ask?				viewed
Am I the pout and the push?								wooed
Am I the Lush and the Crash?								xoomed
Am I anything or nothing or Can I Be							youthed
	At Least Can I Be								xyz
           The First To Know?”					  But how could it be?

How could you be
When no one could?



Fate