Under the Longest Day (2016)

highway lines broken
revealing canonical mavens
a lonely roar before I too am torn apart
dappled grass,
dust floats

She set him to burn
She set him to burn and he slumped

He drove to her death in a silver Toyota,
back bed rusted like a quiver of God’s favorite arrows
the kind that will put a twist in your bored blood.

She let him to burn
She let him to burn and he writhed

if ur not a Steer please b that long wood
fence that go down/
property marked by big rocks, have always been there/
the cloud passed too close right over us laying
in the shadow of the seruph//
cloud made me feel bad
so I cloesed my eyes in yu

pointing inward, indent
not yet piece but hurt

Whisper pines, drip and drop me down
in a warm wet space/
fases snap and welcome me.

apart from all the bitterness ensues a silence better than what cries ur mum had,
long after her postpartum depressn.
Let’s regress back to the infinite mean
let’s undress and step in hexagons of slipping sleet

 birds eat birds here



 the telephone lines are torn down.
I am pinned against America by my throat, by my back
It’s only been some hours since zero and we still haven’t found a successor

will we fail again


nothingness breathed between us
passed between us

our genitalia exposed
like hairy vegetables
sour , aimless
the air feels like disappointment



it’s been a kind of season smelling like fluid plastic and CD-ROM drives
so far

Under som…
Some revving of Pickups you heard a seagull laugh
and it was lauffing at the sparrows and, the sparrows were mocking the 72 degrees, and the 72 degrees from the touch was a bipartisan agreement,
Settled in a court of tiles and small-hair-new-shave sink tops

So we found this, our underfed love-form
It had to do
For the time being.
And we smiled.

“This isn’t exacly anecdotal more of a synopsis of Time’s slow encounters wif DEF. In the June and erly July mont of      TWENNYSICKSTEEN                        it was when I stopped being able to kno if it was day or night or the haze of work day felt like I was walking through the real dream and the dreams were the real memories, ya know? And anyhow mirrors started to make me shaky because I looked nin them and there was another person who stole my body, it was lice he stol my bod y and there was malice in those eyes like I don’t have. And he looked at me knowingly and it scared me to fuck. And it wasn’t like nohtng before this year—it happened once after that one night when the black cloud took me. And I kept having those dreams again and I saw there on the continent it all started to not freak me out in episodes, just a consistent, perpetual experience of this new thing called REALTIY and I started to feel like I wasn’t there anymore, ya know? Like I would sit there and be lost or feel fading away and was surprised when they looked at me and talked to me and could see me. And there were dangers in the moving trees and there were footsteps in empty buildings and all these things and I felt it and unlike before I didn’t need to run or fight well maybe I did but this time I just waited. So I was swallowed up and I was the mouth.”

Enter red my felt lower jaw
Under wood
Crow cry and wrist slump:
A memory.



sitting with firearms
NSP approved
“thank you very much,” chomps on a cigar and ashes clip over the rock brims
into your very own personal and private harbor

later that day I stare into your eyes as they go  
[wish I had words
no one found
wind crushing me
I don’t think I’m here
I don’t think you’re real
I’ve seen too much
and my head is throbbing
And you are throbbing
And I am so flat
touching u
and u feeling
and me
I have gon away already
Just another one in ur life
wish I could die to you]   numb


I think I’m being followed
No, I think I’m being hunted.

Let me tell you bout love
let me tell you bout l
I don’t know shit bout what Im s’posed to do
I don’t know shit

smthn that’s not like “u know when u see it”
its not found maddeningly, intensely after a few conversations
more a slow death

eat the rest in a big gulp of frenzy
tired and ready to go

a moment of conviction before the stress in my neck and my face eases at last
silly day
a silly way to die

let me tell you about l
it’s just something you’ve known all along
cant pursue it because it’s already here

what thrill of my own hunt feels like sweet food, but I have this grain and these greens I don’t need it
the hunt was air, seeking it brought me back a ghost and quivers in my hairline
,every time we touch a lie
but this is something I’ve known all along. no rushing wind knocking me about
It’s been howling for some time, I’m standing against it deaf
and with a calm vigor.

two sets of eyes in my mind, and the one
the one isn’t mine

let me tell you about lo
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.


been here, circling
crow crie tonal shift in the sound of outside

the first outside is trauma, birth
it should have been beautiful but it just terrified me too much
prenatal landscapes, of rolls and warm glow red

of a clarity

ripped from it,
we rip into our particular outsides
we rip into a force that will surely crush us

after we’ve all betrayed each other
after we all committed murder
we have to sit on this bus together
yet four more hours
silently shooting across space and the whipping dark trees


mayb im pure maybe im demon pure
some kind of little clicks in the back of my mouth
earwigs crawl
then pour down

like a cascading jewel flow
a living stone of desperation
I don’t choke though, I laugh

and I am laughing now

am I pure maybe I’m pure
maybe I am demon pure
painted with burnt eucalyptus
and shot through with empty bullets

To you
am I demon pure?
Do my eyes flicker,
do I make your shoulders tense

 I soft run past ur side,
count your ribs//
as I walk by



it doesn’t have a name,
its not a he or a she if that even existed

it feels like my sore jaw and its all I can breathe
it holds bad fire
I cough out blood and the lilts and guttural scribbled runes

it found me this time
It has me this time

tight and a laugh
its making me laugh
my brain sinks down
my body pounds and tumbles at once

im sleepy and aching and I got up to answer you but you’ve been gone for days
and the pain of yours that I didn’t notice has since dissipated
it’s worse than being hated,
it’s the feeling of not.

A lie!
says the dust and root core in my hand (It)

leaving you
emptied, and truly dead

I can do this and throw your house down

“I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of time.”


so i find

lines in water ridged around me,

airplane roars; and
itchy scalps
temperature fluctuations so incredible you doubt it really is summer
but knives still cut and through it all
they say they feel a heat out of me
and sometimes I start to feel it too

so I was swallowed up
and I was the mouth



masses shift in my head
god sits bloodthirsty on the mud horizon
moan and push to hide our screams

like worms crawled out to die in the rain


c (the second day)
let the sun hit me and carry me up
whisp white and pale blue

lifted to pulverize and smashed
again photon bath
still I haunt and sallowness peeled
off like glue
off like
Off like
Off like

lifted off the foot-bones
slow rise
and bliss decay
a slow rise and decay
and off like
off off enough



just as she told me things would get better it started raining harder
I saw a man climb up over the grassy hilltop
sun below the highway bridge,
wind turbines spinning like ancient ships
a lone blackened tree- it used to reap apples down

I knew going out looking for god would cause trouble
and I tried scrubbing all of myself away in the shower
and I thought your smile and your lips and your mouth would eat me
but I did it all anyway

it is the beginning of the world
it is the beginning of the world the white sun and the painted bodies beckon me
splashing stars around in the pool
splashing stars with whales

“you are not my forest mother,”
I realize
you are Gol
here again for me

but this time you were nice.
you really cared about me and we really shared laughs

it’s all dried up now no
it was dry from the beginning

I think I speared my mother in the ferns
orphaned twice by my own appetite

my father too is an orphan
it’s in our blood to be left
it’s in all our bloods to be left
do you hav it in you
to leave yourself

…let’s paddle out a little further
12 choppers and a golden sky
we’re going way up river,
she drinks    me

I saw a crown floating out over the gulf
my instincts tell me it is a bird


sim, sym

 simulacra cast down in their fields again
your mind is not a garden
your mind is not a forest
If I sit in this white room in my mind long enough, what will become of the external stimuli around me?

se de antenaie den,
cuhl coeleh comminedt den?

seek a translation from the ribosomic God-knit cloth,
sought, soft soft caught ballasted against the deck
they wanted to calm the seas and strap me against her wooden bodice
they wanted me gone
no they were afraid of themselves

I saw whisps of my dear dead in the slashing rain, wind
dashed on cliff base,
hull leaking in
wrenching apart that sound of something, no
we cant know
it is crunching through metal like Brie
it didn’t come for us we just happened
to be there

stem the flood  stem_ the flood

      “We found one!
      a live female

                fuck I was just…
“no one has seen one since—”
                      under that awful noise

 “god damn.”
                       there wasn’t any surface but I wasn’t floating, I wasn’t falling
I wasn’t
                        flying. I was just…

“does   know about this/?”
“nope, you’re the first.”
“god damn”

                        what is that under me?

           it’s humming
                                 no, it’s…
           this has happened before.

                        am I imagining this?

                        I’m going away.
no, I’m going everywhere

I’m burning, it’s in my tongue it’s through my pores

“ ____!”
“fuc, cant see a thing”
(match struck, echo)

etches shadow,
trace smoke
breath. fear a needle orgasm in the chest

again, no sky
and all the particle throw
in                     only light

“ ”

“ where are you?
gotta see this.. it looks like…  it’s just drifting light. I don’t know what…
                                     “    ”

“  e  .. no.”





George Sapp Reese
Maude Adelaide Martin

before the civil war
before the earth was scorched by the Beast
the Bastard

my names
after that bashing, crying woad I so love
after they left the shaken cliffs, left the northern nephilim
after they came over the trenches deep,
fathoms of wombwater
just passing over the thn of it
driving ahead for the

my names,
I know
whom did they beat in that big white house they had
what ropes and gagged brats were mine
father said

he said

dead whitened trees
hot valleys
Roman homes in the summer, on the peace, way down the river

I cant find all my blood land
I cant till it
it was kilned

dominant allele I inherit


unsaid exclamations at this twisted tree on the cliffs edge
my birthright

my my my

I’m shaking and I don’t know their names
I don’t know who is on my hands
I don’t

these red ditches
these tall Georgia pines I fear

Cherokee Mothergods drift in their tops
I beat the dead needled ground with my hands
with branches
my cry reaches back halfheartedly not even to the crags   and them tribes
my bare body hot,
torn by claws of cold sweat
I know this in letters
I don’t know this in howls

I know this hurt is mine
I know this hurt is not mine

my my mine my mine my
my my dry my mine own dug feeble rock mine my my my one own mine


seventh hill

ive housed bellows,
the river

a terraced holy hill and old roots

this is where they bury him
Seventh Hill
a battle site, decaying into an early mist
that stills my chest
and leaves my mind sharp
a mute buzz



I won’t stand under your tent
This pain has thinned my face
The final shots are fired.


watching a truck arc over an interstate bridge,
maybe the most beautiful thing I saw all that day
cicadas cooed in the wind

rot the bourbon
my child bowed legs stuffed up, curdling under a porch plank and dark brown soil—   
a dusty boy, curious
the legion of armless men trotted down the lane into a merchant booth

crouch star in obsidian air
is angel moth or beetl
drapedt ovr ur breasts

love you to fuck, I do.


Can’t you see?
Can’t you see that you are alive?

I wonder what she saw
sitting in the shadows of that temple, the pillars caked with years of humid mud
Did she see the killing of a god
blood slick down his neck like sweat?

I wonder if the assassin even saw it,
a boy closing his eyes hacking with that crude blade fastened to the end of a stick
Peter has come a long way,
Peter has come a long way and he wont be able to fly no more

what are behind her eyes now,
I lock and immediately cringe at the sight
the sight of pure frigid fire
and it is coming out all through her face

and I wonder what are behind his eyes now?
she was just a girl and he not much older,
steeled his blows with images of home
behind those quaking, dewed lids

can I look in them and see the same dead I find in her heart jump of the throat?
will there be an intimate escape,
will there be decay,?
I know he will never be able to leave that place and for the rest of his life he will try to remember it,
for every drop of perspiration on the clay brick

exactly as it was
fully. the terrifying mute grip over his throat, prying open the ribcage

surely a spilling of heaven


e/“It’s safer over here”

And I sit in between?

my feathers were grabbed in fistfuls and torn off me
I’m thrown in the storm-winds back and down
like a missile, by children

in a car,
but we drive along side by side with our loved ones so that we can be closer together during those short odysseys to the grocery store, on road trips, in the slow silent desire of late—headed back to your apartment, eye contact and mutual knowing

If we really cared for one another we would sit behind. And then who would drive and who would be shielded? Have we always foregone longevity for intimate self-destruction? Have we always preferred to suffer together? when it is altogether in our power to save one of us.

calm wraps around (me) and just as quickly steps away

left over in depths
how far and what becomes passed over and what stays

what stays
entropy fucks us all


Did I break it?

the first
altogether forged, none less forgot
lost and traipsed upon
and all but down on shoulders and under-ear
We find
(           )?

the second
sim in cut,
bellows runned' blistering white
stuck in pockmarks,
a gift of tongue
(Just not yet)

I don’t know if I broke it



iwant to rip this whole half of the house down
i feel my heart beating
I have no middle name
I am and I am afraid
and I am dying
and I am so sad


Failed oxygenation
The mnemonic flights of these my dumb wings
“At least I tried,” cursed in a stream of dark tones,
offers no consolation

She remembers my future
this lion
She stares metal at me and
I know I will surely die

Under that young tree
Fiscal fears and sweat scorched away

I shudder and find fire below the river,
Under the frozen hand

This lion
Silver sit

Holds nothing
Holds me
I shudder again and turn over thrice
Ritual finished



The longest day of the year is when this earth’s tilt is most inclined toward its sun. During this, the summer solstice, the night is the shortest of the year. One would think that this coincides with the Sun being closest to this earth, but this is incorrect. They are closest in distance on the perihelion, which happens to be in the calendar month of January. The earth is farthest from the Sun on the aphelion, which occurs in July. For those that live in the Northern Hemisphere, the heat of summer in June and July is due to the tilt of the earth’s axis toward the Sun, not the approximate distance of this rock itself to the sun. When the rock itself is closest to the Sun in January, the northern hemisphere is tilted on its axis farther away from the star, hence our winter. The tilt closest to the Sun during the summer seasons sees in these regions the reception of a more direct concentration of the Sun’s heat.

August 12
the mouth is closed.


"The kid was fucking crazy anyway, and they all knew it. Nobody knew what he looked like without that makeup on, and I didn't give a damn myself, or at least I certainly didn't want to be in that camp long enough to find out"

 the same world, the same period, the same House and

 "What I remember was... What I remember was the humidity. People take air for granted, like. They don't realize until it's right up their noses... that a summer jungle's particular cloud carries the smell in it unlike any other place. In our case that smell was bodies."

 unlocked that despondent myth of abandonment we see now

 "And then there was this kid. No bandana tied around his mouth, nothin. He just breathed it. He didn't smile or seem to particularly enjoy it nor hate it. I still can't put my finger on that expression he had, wading through the ankle-deep marsh in those pungent nights. It wasn't anything I'd ever seen on any face before then, and I haven't seen it since."

 the complete Father of ours, transparently

 "I think if God does exist that He is a word said only once by an insecure boy in a uniform and helmet in some fight he questions every day-- a word muttered to himself, as if to try it out before using it in public, immediately afterwards knowing with everything in him that it doesn't suit his tongue."

insecure and
genetically binding.
surgically clean
a state of affairs,
a lash of retribution in saltwater rain
a nylon thrum of bird feathers in early flight
undulating in front of me
I close my eyes and see a white hot ring printed like a single iris,
against total black

 in simulated drowning, eyes shut this brand on my retinas



peace sets on the Danube
this is but a part of all that is

we interlock and despise:
a city has no local language
a city has no local food
a city lets you touch it, impassive to how uniquely meaningful that motion is for you
and this is my motion

I accept your dumb stone face, but I’ve started to resent it in recent years
bred without coaxing
I the boy fox got lost in granite

bred under a panopticon
I’m tired of eyes yet fear a blind Heaven

“and I sit in between?”

this was my trip to Zion,
this was the second time I carried a stone up a mountain

peace sets on the Danube
a boat passes underneath



if your words once alive write no life to me now then I will not read them
if your eyes show me only hunger then I will let you be hungry
if you call me but I am facing inside out, in Heaven, then I will not answer
but it doesn’t mean I will never answer again



removed the Sun and space

perfect ambience and tranquil regression
immaculate inaction and action

the electric and the soil and this leaf and my plastic hand

Letting the sounds run together, finally I slacken.