OCELOT DREAMS

My dearest sibling

spread her legs

with knives acquired from

dancing ocelots.

She fingered the folds of flesh

beneath the succulent breasts

of pineapples begging

for the subcutaneous whip.

In the middle of winter

she sucked the skin

from a porcupine’s spine

and danced around

a mobile clitoris.

*

Summer pajamas

smother dreams of fire

drawn from the leather envelope

of a Cheshire cat

whose mother danced a tango

on the heads of alligators

while seeking for philosophies

of flies that flitted

through a barricade

of undomestic bliss

and sucked the brains

of prepubescent skunks.

*

In palaces of blood we find

the treasures of millennia

of dancing turtledoves

whose screaming voices

verberate throughout

the frozen landscapes

of repression

and vast dreams.

My mother sucked her titties

like a defecating swan

and I grasped at the

lingam of a liberal

decunter whose lovely

twat sat deftly on

an aardvark’s nose.

*

My childish ways interpret

petty bourgeois snakes

as strangely opulescent vomit

I spit on the hats

of tentacled businessmen

grasping at clownish schemes

while underwriting

laboratory mixes

of putrescent microscopes

melting in the warmth

of a duck’s poisoned gland.

*

Sublime dictionaries

grow from the slime

that drops from the womb

of a newborn ocelot.

Her lover, a prehistoric porcupine

reads Shakespeare in bits

that have teeth

like a skunk.

They corkscrew through

the diadems of flesh

that we used to build temples

to the goddess

of godlessness.

*

Syphilitic meatballs

roll through cataracts

of shining flame

and the firm breasts of

an adolescent jaguar

rendezvous with the

somnolent cleaver

of dawn.

On certain bright mornings

we call this a race

for the burning fleas

of a resurrected

mountebank.

*

My mother’s sweet concubine

tasted like mango pudding

when I ironed her delectable

ocelot’s chair

Somewhere there had been

a grey rainbow weeping

with the diamond of a kangaroo’s tail.

This was where I found the clue

that opened up the treasure chest

full of pocket shrew vaginas.

*

Oh! The Sparkling Magics of Desire

Opening for a moment

wondrous worlds

of unknown colors that

flash and flirt

and turn a heel

whose curve encloses

a vast sky

of galloping antelopes

kissed by the glow of a mango

dripping juices toward

young lovers’ mouths.

*

Suicidal tendencies

chew out the eyes of rats

As wonderland

goes on sale

to the guardians of supermalls.

The petty dreams of weasels

eat the dancing ocelot pies

that squirt their fairy juices

toward an aging

desperado sky.

*

The stretching finger

of our lambent desire

has the tail of an

erect jaguar

down between its legs.

A feral tit

embraces the

dancing orangutang

of a chicken thief’s

dream.

I used to dance on daisies

but my withered cock

had other dreams

and so I walked

away.

*

When my mother

spat her nails

into the boards

of oblivion

I sought

for a penguin

to dance

the Charlemagne.

The diseases

in my kitchen

had a rhythm

like the green aluminum

that sang within

the walls of a rainbow trout’s

heart.

*

Dripping cunts of lesbians

inspire me to murder cops

to chop off their cheap clubs

And grind them into

mortal pester

of a genuine summer doll.

From there I draw the semen

to inspire my cockatoo

to transform the wild elixir

into beer.

*

The great abyss

is an invitation to flight

the first step in

is the last one needed

for this great adventure

Too long we have waited

to embrace the unknown

that most passionate of lovers

without boundaries

or chains

She howls

like a Guatemalan monkey

vibrations rising

from these endless depths

to fill a world

with its orgasmic glow.

*

I felt a fever burning

through the varnished purple head

of my unforgiven penis

I heard the songs

of monkeys howling

up from the depths

of a volcanic crater

As it danced upon the moon

with an ocelot in heat

I throbbed in the mouth

of a vibrating petunia

that thrived upon the

glowing, oozing lava

of my turgid heart.

*

How long shall we hide behind

the cards which we have made

from the manufactured fibers

of a social web?

How long shall we maintain

our particulate aggregates

where petty sameness enforces

our separation?

How long until the pleasures

of unspeakable unique ones

finally weave together

with the magic of desire

to mold the fearless symmetry

of tigers of utopian revolt?

*

Sleep, my friends, to dream

but dreaming, dance with leopards

that roam across a landscape

of seething fire

and ice.

Those birds whose feathers

smell like ink

and taste of chocolate bells

are ringing in

a new lemon of brilliant hue

that skips across the flames

like an antelope

and dances on the peak

of a solar wave.

WHO HAS LAUGHED

Who has laughed

so bitingly

with daggers spewing

from their mouth?

And who has howled

at winking moons

while blowing kisses

to the wind?

I met a lover

made of

sweetly poison hurricanes

who danced across

my bleeding flesh

with such relentless

tenderness.

She is the one who laughs, the one who howls.

*

Strange nightmares gallop

over seething

indigo breasts

A finger circles slowly

round an ogre’s

gleaming tower

And still the thieves are

rolling through

the ocean of a

liquid treasure

that seeps into

the filed fangs

of a savage newsboy’s

precious basket

lunch.

*

In a theater in Bombay

I saw a naked tigress

dancing

Her four arms were

weaving unicorns

as veils for horned Egyptians

Her feet tapped out

a rhythm

that curved and swooped

and soared

while the flickering of her lustful tongue

danced circles round

my rod.

*

An awkward presence

fills the skies

with jaguars

Their merry dancing

paints gold stripes

upon the silver arches

of the moon

A skull made out of ambergris

plucks a plaid guitar

made out of mangoes

and green ocelots.

And from this grows a jungle

where the leaves drip buttered tulips

and sweet wine.

*

Utopia dances out between

the planets like a butterfly

whose purple wings

are fanning a grey bear.

The bear leaps through

a hoop of flame

to find the proud

ferocity

that simmers

in the summer’s

savage soup

And a walnut bears

a picture

of the curving, arching smile

that dreams the jaguars’ gesture

toward utopia.

*

Consider the crystalline possibilities

fluid and sparkling

in the flickering light

that reflects from a butterfly’s wings.

It is the sparkle that flows

in a poison infusing

the unrepentant mind

with visions of a scintillating

jaguar’s scream,

the translucent gyroscope

of coitus.

*

Sister, drink

from where the dream lies

inebriated on the sexual crimes

of mollusks

My love screams from a radiant shell

whose puking tail rides swiftly

up your leg.

*

September was the time

when bluebirds danced upon a tower

of broken raindrops

and a honey-covered oak tree

swam from Cincinnati

to the flying edge

of midnight

while a muffled cat

spewed out a song

of buffaloes and

nights of snarling

love.

*

Imbedded termites gnaw away

at the vapid dreams of pale consumers,

patriots of a lifeless desert

where the withered carcasses

of petty freedoms

find dull ditches

where they can decay

into fine grains of dust.

Salute! For this is America!

*

Where do the octopi

suckle their young?

In a forest of feathers

replete with the music of moths?

In a crystalline cavern

where butterflies dance

with the lobsters of dawn

on a mountain of mansions

collapsed in the fire

of a marigold’s heart?

I’ve searched all the oceans

of crimson-blue sand,

and still I do not know…

*

The effects of the night

on an anthropoid lip

is the fertile engagement

of dancing piranhas

The multiform eyes

that embraced me in Venice

reached out for the mind

of a spider web’s dream

where the mad sons of bluebirds

were riding a cobweb

through jungles of feelers

and insectoid schemes.

*

Where is the point

in the meter of truth

that flushes out libelous antelopes

from the lavender bushes

of teenage termites

who dance with a golden-voiced frog?

I’ve searched for these treasures

in avalanche farms

where the eels of misfortune

turn circles around

coconut pudding

and the crème-cycle melts

in my pants.

*

Pasted birds were flying

toward a cream-covered tower

made of glass and bumblebees.

The fragile pastry of your love

was painted

with the golden apples

of my pain.

I danced between the fissures

of a cracking toe

from the foot of a carry-on crow

and I wandered off toward Lebanon

to meet a painted ape.

*

Vibrant charisma reverberates

through a forest of serpentine lice

Within the hands of a hominid clock

a raisin made love to a zebra’s niece.

Her name was Matilda

and her cunt was an oversized porcupine

ready to rifle the pudding of dawn

to release the butterscotch rays.

*

Let’s go dancing

as I feared

in a smothering haze

of hemophiliac termites.

From such a stream of logic

inevitably a giraffe

is sure to grow

And with it come

the calm, sharp steps

of an octopus waltzing

in the midst of a tornado

made of fire and golden ice.

*

Cantankerous waltz of the morning,

subdue the arthropod arms

that rise to suppress the sparkling lust

of a diamond-studded orangutang.

She swings through turgid trees

sprinkling menstrual blood

among the orchards of the howling beasts

of Endor’s howling witch.

THE FIRE WITHIN

There are times when I feel

I have a fire within my breast

so hot it could consume

a world – a universe.

The flames, it seems,

could dance forth from my eyes

and no one could resist me.

For my fire would find

its mate in theirs

and all the bland excuses

would be burnt to ash.

At times, I am convinced

that all this fat I’ve built around me

is to hide this flame

from those who would

prefer to put it out.

But protection keeps it hidden,

is a suffocating prison

just as surely as those structures

society’s firefighters

build to suppress

such overwhelming brilliance.

And so a question rises

within my seething mind

Shall I break down the defenses,

drive the firefighters away,

and with a roar of passion

and a tiger’s gaze of lust,

unleash this raging firestorm

that might burn a whole world down?

DREAMSCAPES

1

In the black nights of dream

the whitewashed buildings

of exotic cities reflect

the moonlight like bones

in a graveyard. Deep shadows

dance in ponderous steps

across a desolate urban

landscape where I have

spent so many nights

wandering, searching, striving

to find an unknown beauty

woven of death and life.

Labyrinthine streets

guide my steps, but where?

The search for camaraderie

often seems futile as

doors slam and a single

long black shadow

follows in my wake.

Yet I hear the music

of the dead plucked on

vibrant strings, and it

resonates with an energy

that sings to me of

new life.

2

The twisting iron bones

of dead commerce

and industry

meander across a landscape

of ruin. Skyscrapers have

collapsed into piles

of twisted concrete, glass

and steel. Dangerous playgrounds

for a few daring madmen.

Scattered among the ruins

are rough encampments,

shantytowns living off

the death of the cities,

where daily life goes on

in spite of whatever

vast disasters

brought these cities

to the ground.

3

I find myself

in an ethereal forest

where trees dance

imperceptibly around me

and trail slide and slither

here and there like

iridescent snakes.

Nothing here is stable

or established.

There is no solid ground.

Chasms open suddenly

before me

and I fall

but never land.

I encounter

monstrous animals,

bears that tower

as high as trees,

a great coyote demon

howling at the moon

and lunging for my throat.

I devour this demonic beast

and in this conquer

the undulations

of this seething landscape

and make its delirium

my own.