Tuesday, December 13, 2016

De Honeste Amore: Condemned 1277

The sober and decorous morning ends

a lycanthropic amphibolgy obtains 

bare moments collapsing
into the realm of
all things disorganized
and inaccessible

                 the senses
let in all manner of crap which is after a while
impossible to distinguish
from beauty
--negating reliability
of either category
with everything old and new
made humourless
and there is no wilderness
no wonderment

but still I half love 
how hot everything gets


Friday, November 11, 2016


He has absolutely no skill in defending himself. He moves about violently from one impulse to another, which destroys him.

I insist: this is a child.

But this child had at his disposal a fortune that appeared inexhaustible to him and nearly absolute power.
                                    --Georges Bataille, The Trial of Gilles de Rais

We will never see the satanic head or eye
of Gilles de Rais made fabulous in paint
or marble. All facets of his dream-world—
voraciously prismatic—are kept in the book of tortures

with the vile bon-bons of his fancy
that fell from his brain, to pulsate on his tongue,
wherever chapel boys swelled with song,
in Champtocé, La Suze, Tiffauges, Machecoul.

Gilles derived from a long line
of war-lords
and rabbit-faced prodigies.

At his trial at Nantes he doubted not
to be convicted, then burnt, by temporal authorities;
but nor to be forgiven by the Church,
which owed him much
& whose children he had raped and devoured
wherever chapel boys swelled with song,

in Champtocé, La Suze, Tiffauges, Machecoul.

Wednesday, November 02, 2016

Morning Poem 380

fuck me that turnip is going to be president
of this shit
I am listening to Chet Baker just trying stay sane
tranquilize me Chet just enfold me
a little, in your gentleness
as if to say ‘Thomas,
you may be wrong about this’

Chet plays it cool
‘My Funny Valentine’ is sad
and cool on my forehead

maybe the fucking turnip
will be cool
maybe my head will make the
adjustment, the necessary reversion
to how things obtained

in my fascist years
(thanks, old friend,
for sticking with me through my fascist years)
when I too was a bloated, ignorant bitch-boy
who felt free, and happy just
to rock, to barf, to kill
in the metropolis

Chet you toothless junkie
get me out of this


Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Wednesday, September 07, 2016

(after Jonathan Williams)

2 Architectural Postcards from Gatlinburg, TN

Dearest Christopher Madeline Sam
greetings from quite the
most hideous place have
every found self in
God Himself would puke
if that is his
non-existence were not completely
confirmed by very existence
of this cesspool of
vulgarity and mental desolation
please you must never
come here Love Thomas
Dearest Francie piece of
shit edifice on reverse
of this writing is
single handsomest structure here
by a long shot
Never come here not
even on your way
to Dollywood where you
should also never go
I mean it Thomas

You have a problem?
That’s not the right
tool for my problem.

Archilochos: hummingbird rising out
of Chaos  soldier-exile
poet-mercenary scrotum-scrutinist
shield abandoner du monde

Email from P. J. C. Field
My main reaction remains
what it was before:
entities are not to
be postulated without necessity
Happy New Year Peter

Merlin’s Mother
There is probably no
precaution one can take
against sex with devils
quite beyond the intellect
to predict the history
of hell necessitating sex
with devils and demons
I heard she was
insane and her eye
had a prismatic periphery

Dixit Elizabeth Stambler, Bard College, 1987
Keats did not believe
in God because women
had cancer how could
he or it ever
permit women to have
such a horrible disease

D. H. Lawrence
white trembly English girls
their sickness needs a
remedy or a final
finishment quite beyond imagination
have you built your
ship of death girls
time to build that

my god is the
tutelary god of statues
broken open by stupid
people looking for treasure

a cestrophendonē: an apparatus
for hurling stones, not
dissimilar from a funditor
but not a ballista
or scorpio. An harpē
is a sickle-bladed sword
larger than a falx
a five prong harpago
is an heinous hook

Note from Molly
Your Easter poem is
frightening very effective JESUS
tuna’s in the fridge

3 Medical Definitions

A monster characterized by
fusion of the ears
one orbit and absence
of mouth and nose

Arched position of the
body with feet and
head on the floor
caused by tetanic spasm

Born with four ears