monkeys press distorted faces
against stained glass windows
itchy vibrations climb from linoleum
and squirt like lizards’ tongues
across the unborn thighs of the twenty-first century
empty bottles everywhere: the drugstore is closed
pull the binds! turn up the music!
choke the screaming night with 100 watts
capitalize the T in technology
until it turns into a cross
nail my existence to it
like a faded ticket to the latest crucifixion
call it predestination or divine will
watch the hero piss in the dusty crossroads
village idiots fight to float their boats
around shrinking islands of logic
suicidal cowboys are eager to pull nuclear strings
let the loaded dice roll down the parabolic edge
saviors wait for high noon in the hollywood hills
reading sanskrit translations of playboy
mechanical students bounce out of school
crawl apelike into melancholy shopping malls
mad poets throw stones at the moon
nobody sees the ones that hit
through the veil of falling objects
Last Poems--Outsider Art 