3 pieces (cut-up)

2012/05/20

Desert Bird

speed, plastic pop
pillow
head on it
gun
nails in it
fervor
no sleep
but fluids
moondiscs
graveyards
heart screens
& pay sex
with a
desert bird
or Russian girl
dragged here
for no
reason
sheets flash
around her
she’s dreaming of
freeways
roamed
in pipe dreams
with clairvoyant
pimps
of daybreak
rising early
to fly

A Question of Taste

voicelessly
a sea
& a rose which rules earth, treasure,
invention, oscillating somewhere,
Saturday figure, child, rare & adequately
red, innocent devil
clear, solid
night & skeletons
making love – it’s not vain, my earth,
not over, I’ve heard of your
discovery, I’m closed, grenade to the
selfish, stone to children
not true, to dreamers, not real
voicelessly
with wind
I blow
in their wings – I miss them
please, open the petals
& calculate growth
draw numbers on dew
release me
I was brought here
by same hands
that raised you
dreamers, selfish children
reach out how I
reached out for you
& taste your first
mistake

Low Profile

you ready, mystic, to publish
laughter?
brave enough to share
brainwaves?
hot enough to stay cool?
I remember you
a trip ago:
there was no
distance
no generals toying
skylanes
no countries
but you
seastarving
ugly woman
no leaders
queens
devices
telephones
bells ringing
no lost machinery
gray plunged skies
excerpts from politicians’
speeches
over high rise
skylines
there was nothing
but word & wire
you ready, magician, to transmit
pure void?
you ready, shaman, to summon
jungle death ghosts?
brave enough to listen?
high enough to stay low?
I remember you
a trip ago:
it’s easy to go
missing

Copyright © 2012 by A.J. Kaufmann. All rights reserved.