>first canto<
we will begin right
here at the designated end
of cloning the release
of complex molecules in-
to the worn-out atmosphere
that claws its way into the heart
of our cravings

i would go to hell
for you but i am in hell
already steeped in the blood
of stones drinking
the odor of grape leaves on the breath
of those whose only sin is not
to be connected to be excluded
from the best clubs they fake unconcern
until change raises itself
from the mat and hiccups its last
defiance at a creamcheese universe

i wander through the tiers of evil
acts trailing after your feet
and powdering your head so much
now depends on what we breathe
so much of what we see how fast
we talk whether we will go
to prison for not putting stickers on
the eyes of addicts to convince the unashamed
that we are all sane here that nobody
who hurt us really matters any more

i sink into the company
of people who believe that
unemployment creates jobs and
that superman wears baggy tights
and a cape that flows down his chest
and into his legendary crotch you are carried
past me by
drug-addled waitresses your thighs are dusted
with silver and yet you know everything

and here the gregorian boys roll
dice for your fate by the light of
the dancing goddess flat-paneled on-
to the inside of the left rear annex
of your new expanded soul
cementing your identity in a parade
of staggered neural pathways
the wind is moved to sing
antic wordless tunes all around me
as colors take shape and the years
taunt their progenitors with arch references
to the fact that once it was just like this
only better

that is my personal hell

and i bail out on it for a night
and a night swimming in clouds
while traces are laid on faces and swell voices
swell to the firmament and this is it boy
here at the dead end of time i will find
out where i fit by measuring myself
against measurements and firmaments
and the one whose name may not be
alluded to even the consonants
the holiest of holies the mask of death
on the velvet skin of life courted by
the messengers of those who hide
their scowling faces like vampires
behind a breach in the laws of nature
and envy those who are merely
and silently
dead

>second canto<
there is an awful precision to the lives of
the dead to the least of their movements
they are always and heedlessly dead
writhing at the foot of hades’ throne
waiting to be relieved by the next rotation of
adaptable sin in a changing world
perfection is a threat it stands solid
and reflects all movement
toward convenience as the brutal fraud
it is perfection
must be engorged
with passion seduced
into dragging out its old dance-
floor moves and flashing
its naked belly at the predators
who bait their thorns with wisdom

and yet perfection will mire you in hell

only passion will bring you out again

there are password places
here circles beyond circles
that only virgil and the cleaners know there
i will see you glowing silver in the glare
of dead eyes witnessing the death
of discipline and the malleability of love
here you will writhe on naked ground
while your legend pushes
on ahead of you and leaves
you closeted with the muse

alone

among multitudes

>third canto<
some of these places are ordinary
places where every mouth and
every cunt is filled with ashes
blocking the customs that once passed
on happiness from generation to
regeneration in a rarefied party
atmosphere choking on a hummock
and going down

down

down past countless identical phrases
masquerading as here
and now i am suspended
greedy for form passionate
for meaning for all the things
i left behind when i followed you
to the nether regions of worship
staring and sighing at the merest
happiness i never felt

they are always pretending here
that it is eternity stretched out
over a framework
of song but i know that eternity
is the recollection of your eyes
all over mine of bodies caressing
like hands it is the path you tread
from the grave to my heart and
relentlessly back again blinding me
to happiness in no time at all
you rip out of me the shuddering
admission that yes i mind not
being touched by you yes i mind
being a coward yes i envy my nostrils
the lingering scent of you i envy
my fingertips those last flecks
of silver and kohl i envy my own memory

hell is knowing your sadness

hell is my faithless eyes my hands of smoothest glass

hell is everywhere you are not

>epilogue: the death of orpheus<
time is the hardest labor of all
lifting each second into place
while i remember the simple dance
of skin on skin the catch in your voice
tangled with mine the lightness i never felt
the love you planted in shade your spiderweb
palm lace kissing lace the touch
of faded petals rustling

for a long time now everything
has seemed normal the air is warm
and gelid a globe of burning gas crawls
across the image of a sky projected
by our desire for simplicity walls ripple
and drool acid art becomes weary and repetitive

just like home

i have spent a piece of silver
for each year since i left you  behind and
now the age of silver is almost gone gold
howls past me into your dead ears and i receive
a blessing in many colors even as i think
claws mark my road they involve me
in hue and texture they tear
the shroud so i can see time from
the bottom up they carve me into
instances of being and i am everywhere
like the quantum stones that protect me
from gravity until i look down

and there you are

gone

forever