[sack for PICTS]

i make signs everywhere, with sticks, stones and leaves

for those in the clouds from below the line to arrive

i don’t have a language to speak to you with, my tongues are all fish

i know that a one is a circle, and that nothing is round,

except every corner i saw by the hearts

lined up on the spine

i know that the winter will finally be here again, and that the summer

will die and be born with its ice

i unravel the token you gave me for freedom, i bury the flags in your eyes

under each Arabic sign. . . 1,2,3, on and on. . . and before

i varnish again all the battle grounds freed to travel the face of 2 yews

i remake every button with children put down by 5 tons of your crosses

i am flaking with crust at the dangling ushers they fall for light signs

i make my car shake with my fear, the headlights are showing me songs

by the road for the now disappeared, shots crack by the ones that

remain

i can tell by your lies and your pride that your heart is as small as your pupils

opening up for your strokes

and getting smaller for light

i am the siphon that gravity fills up the blanks in your face with

i sing a throat full of gritos, for the safety releases that shots spill for you

i salivate for your spiraling warmth, in the morning when i collapse, over and over

i have all our love letters taped to the ceiling, my sleep is the end of our flies

their warbles keep rolling

i double the maps on your roads

i put a slab of meat on your cheeks

i thaw every word that pours ends through your blood

i turn in the hair that your father hung with, erasers ring mountains for more

i pick up a chair for the lightning, satellites put out a bead

i bleed in the real that you see with a shine, pieces of chicken pile up to count nukes

i tear off the rain, and cut its numerical age into passing truck tombs

i force your faces to mine, and bother your ebony whirls to circle the holes in the sky

i fire electrons to make your promise discard its word, and fall through

i tie miseries to drains, and pay off my debt with suns

i am more cruel than a counter

i pick a safe with your words, until my distance is short

i slap at your monthly returns, and tie your animals to 5 dirt seas

i ride through your roads in the glass, and steal tiny cracks

i blame the small stone hid in my colorless mouth, and pin rags to your lips

i volunteer for your wars, and lose them all

i borrow your daydreams, and purse up their gardens, into our hands

i pulse with you standing by rocks

i say all you said by the iron door

i throw kites in the room where they found me

i sell off inseparable fingers

i throw windows to walls

i whispers hard rings into telephones, and scratch at the bed

i fade into water

i remember the hands

i open holes through barbed houses

i blow darts through your tunnels and doors

i pile roofs through our wounds

i move through your runs and your screens

i see the news in the sand

i digit up noontimes

i peel off my skins with old sounds

i walk through the valley of lead

i unplug your pages of light

i frost over programs and ride 3 roads on 5 deer

Source: Counter Daemons (Litmus Press, 2006)