Two Poems



Helmet Dressing Room


once the objects said

shit we are codes


my outer triangle

insisted on

advancing a shell


so yo Y to Z

spiral yr own


axis from plane

to pupil



follow you back


but what about

your pinecone


noose of

ripped diamonds


crip up dimension

to let it shine


let it shrine

this little tetrahedron


of mine





celibacy is my zone guys

fasting alone

via literate hoodlums

supported by loam sisterhood

scholars will wonder

at the gas up

my vagina

bowing to appalling


the plectrum

that makes speech

applaud sex w/ gawkers

quenched is the speaking water also

a long and intense period of conditioning

so i may be upright

on the tripod

i may be waiting

while you wait

in the antechamber

smells like herb fume

the pneuma

tithing either

as gas or water

Plutarch thought

emissions have

weakened wordplay

but i am dancer sweet

& sweat stature

at the turntable

whoa it buzzes my crotch

watch my lips hit the pipe

cradled in the mtnscape

thesauri dot

future stairways