sun of dogs

pressure sealed in one room, too
hot for dumbbells now & the ice of sex has melted &
turned an oily blue so it’s 25g of tobacco
and a tip from the masters: Saint-Saëns & Vivaldi
roaring tidal through headphones
as the dog days come five-legged, tip toes tapping
on every goddamn roof and the sun lays its
burlesque fronds unrequested
before every day, as though a day were Jesus
now within a mirror some thirsty shambling thing
rises from the snows of Teuton forest floors
declaring itself still alive for no good reason
as Kali in Norse form dances forward
and past me
through the blackened treeline
spider supple and kohl-laced, tumbling in from other worlds
her breath of tangerines
she moves faster than wrath
and now she’s coming to drink
all the blood
and here, one tilt away
I stand likewise, with the snow evaporated
dripping sweat, in boxer shorts
and Kali in petrolized metal form
goes wailing up the highway
with a siren throbbing on her bone tiara
and the whitegoods shopfronts are juicy
with soft legions on call for Superdeal Storewide Saturday
ghosts like laundry around
white altars
the spin cycle whips them, tugs them from both ends
sucks them around
the spin cycle does the same to me; these greater hydraulics
won’t do you the decency
of tearing you cleanly in two
you don’t get off that easy
not here, not in this world
and if the dog days’ dogs run off with a hand here
a hambone femur, a heart
then you stay bonded, but stretched
in your brown strands of chewing gum
blinking at the mess of it all
from where you lay on the colosseum sand
blinking at your form and realizing that dogs and sun
will never do the job
that it takes mortar shells and priests to do
you’re stuck on this planet
a little grey-brown bullet
of goodly chewed Juicy Fruit chewing gum
you YIELD, boy.

Whether you like it nor not.

dosshouse jack of diamonds
looking to get pepped on lyrics that sting
through these headphones
wondering what it means to have
buzzed like a vibrator through loves gone the way
of tropical hailstorms
(made, as they were, of heat and water)
you’ve traipsed
like a dandy through museums and galleries
looking for some truth
and these nights here, these
bars: playing thirty songs to seventy nameless drunks
multiply that enough and it adds up
to a great many nameless drunks
(but still the same thirty songs)

and in that black forest of snow
he stands and sucks his teeth
considers besieging the Rhine
and drinking the liver right out of it
for marauding is purpose
life and ancestry
the bloodlines were dug through it
sharpened shovels at angles
diverted gushing channels of blood
made us.
and then there’s the wine…