i will seek obedience, i will seek
a cavelike space at the hands of
irony, entropy,
in a war no one else understands.
having weathered the many little deaths,
i am a foot soldier in the army of
righteousness.

the rough landscapes of desire
are depictions of silent waiting,
rejecting today for a past of pastiche,
unconsciously designing machines that
disguise the instinct for death.

the particularity of touch a luminous
and mysterious grid;
this controlled effusiveness persistent,
courting strange adjacencies
with determined solemnity.

abstraction is constructed as a fabric,
as the texture of asphalt underfoot.

a collapsing self shifts,
eras overlap, time
rendered palpable,
shearing apart at its center;
lacerations and clots like
a meditation on men.