Mitosis

Cellular biology: cytology, from the Greek kytos,
contain, is the study of cell properties, functions, life, death,
and division. Plankton to piranha and hookworms to
humans. Among organelles, mitochondria make
power, while lysomes break down. Nuclei
show us the way. Membranes bound and protect.
Mitosis: division in phases
whereby a mother births two like
daughters. Tension builds until
it tears in two, jagged
or cleaved, callous or
just. This is not
our way. Opposite
when two are one in that
light and, sometimes designed
and sometimes not, force out a one to wander
forth. The spark burns fonder
dims or darkens while you find your way
by touch
lighting on the traps and trips that exist. The tension
resolved, the product persists
or dissolves.

I see that pain,
all that I contain grows
straight, flows faint
from the brain to the fire
unlove
undone desire
one.

Cat Wake Up

Meow, meow, the small cat lit,
Her gaze ablaze like titian tides
When sanguine sun beyond them sets;
The light reflected in her eyes
Issues forth with heavy thought
And not with dull or graymade hue
But like some dream she long had sought
Her look, absorbed, now transmits through.
What children dance inside that light,
That countenance so tender made?
What object of such keen-dream sight
Might pierce her muddled fog, displayed?

A bit of seafood from the deep
Recesses of uneasy sleep.

What the Princess Whispered

her green eyes gazing after me

she, swallowed in that other maw by then

I back away, the jaws of life in hand

her black hair chasing after me

the blue twilight strewn with twisted metal

parkway shoulder blades of grass

topped with dewdrops clover spades and petals

dusted bright with broken glass

her smiling plea haunts it still

Superuomo

skylights night slide
by through smog below and fog shrouded glow clouds

of bright yellow, streaming like stop time taxicabs between

bricklike buildingtops, offering a moon’s

wan reflection before their keepers’ sleeping

visages. false idols, for all of them,

I’m sure. solipsism destroys

altruism in its self worship, and warships,

and religion for that matter. this city was almost never

a war zone. still the spindles

would gleam frighteningly. it’s funny,

selflessness. somnambulistic in the higher. skylights

go by and go out;

lights turn to dust and stars.

Aqualung


In every face, many:
dark abets reflection and,

fight as they may, the glass
insists. Passing

through a station
forsaken, petals wilt. Eyes avert, golden

dewed for the jaundice, seeing
nonsight. Urine for the nostrils. Feral

taste. Choler
for the wastrels.

September


I went
to talk to my X
girlfriend and told her
we need to commune
and smoke like we used to
and be and she said
patience
and wisdom
and know when your spirit
has spoken itself
or its smoke.
I went into

our corner
and we said what we could
with our privacy. Then we came
together
outside into
the September sunlight.

                                         Up

You can move

that steering wheel                     The sun

in four directions                         lights copper on the water

                                                    then white across

Push forward—                          the trumpet blue

keep the skyline                          jealous and august

on your horizon

Planes are built

with attention                              As if we were

to redundancy                             to fall—

                                                    my future

Hug the shore—                          words would drown

it's cold, I don't                            I am infallible

want to swim too far

Republic                                     Repeat sounds until

foxtrot-three-four                         they break—echo

five-seven-niner                           echo-lima—as does

                                                     the world below—

Request per                                into nonsense

mission for a

touch-and-go over                       Marshall a sense

                                                     of this aural sublime—

Remember                                  even after the fall

keep that nose up                        you've got that much

                                                     more living to do

I got the controls

You need to keep your nose up—bring her around, we'll try again

Paul Levene’s Ride

Look at the trees! white

and grey green flying past in a stop

time blur like columns of light with

arch arms overhead

sweat drips, molten

lead on forehead

but my arms feel

Far ahead! feel dead on the wheel

Pound that pedal to the floor! don’t

think death it’s sophomoric

it’s a question with

no answer.

remember high school

Ha! look at me

now that hot english teacher with the legs

and poems they made fun of

my name for a week Fucking

longfellow! and that other one

death stopped for me

and the kids and the sun

it's dark as hell out good

thing i’ve got these goggles on.

that carriage too, was this

sweet black ferrari no lights no sound just

speeding up to eternity

140mph 4:00 the city

i liked that poem emily

what’s with all these poets anyway

long fellow over here dick son over there

blow? whoa not too much gotta

watch for cops

these tight turns you’d never

know i was an english major

how i met nora that

book she gave me

watch out for the undertoad

her smile in moonbeams

I can’t see! It’s all green!

and all that white a load

from beantown in the
trunk These fucking trees! how much

faster i could
go if