st ides twelve-ounce can, the black rider and bad velvet flower.

[aseverednerve]

and pasted against a shower wall, thin-veined white
a boiled cabbage leaf, thick slow blossoming and gorgon
the boiler room seating pressed and brown a lump of coal kept
the sound of it opening, singing the happy scar a sunny day
sun and snowy the hungry altar tomorrow faces a frozen lake
swollen and yawning black and white sea salt cracked
a sea of broken molars, floating, the face drawn out forward
the face drawn downward into a stylus, an inward pumping syringe
and its a beautiful night throbbing gray and silver sweat slick
long ice drip hallelujah right outside the door a hospital
seizure orgasm done delirium a rider atop a white horse
and chewing a thick starchy root, is beautiful ambiguity and forbidden
a silent movie sloshed with acetone fatty and fading
some big white rocks of coal smoldering black flame in the boiler celluloid
black flame thunder silent a mouthful of dirt
long yarn loose ends knit under over around big fray diminishing
last call the moon swaying out of view a twelve-guage pointing
a girl that he knew sleeping sweaty the pedal of a velvet rose
self, a church bell peal the brawling body soft paste under a sheet.