The Man Who Breaks Dimensions...

in his mouth,

            gives the sun its violent luster      ──He who

marks  the blistered streets of December

in his eyes                        &   births the new snow's

    wonderment                   ──He  stirs up windows,   dusty floors,

     calls to bones a grip of    

                    voiceless somewhere    ──He evaporates

on weathered skin,                  calls to it a sheath

                                                     of longing

  
                                             ***

                         & now it is Summer again
                    & now the navel yearns for spit
           

             He reflects the New World with corruptless eyes
          
      & moves onto a canvas                made of moonlit starvation
 

 believing this desolate island   

                                                                   is a smaller town

         much smaller than pores

                                         or his lover's hands

                  full of gravity,     little grains

                   wrapped  in womb

                                      of finality