Codeine Poem

Unguent bliss exit
suspended gold noise
lidded eye dribble
o, cocoon molting bread
soft ebbed gossamer stutter
drift anoint wave
air edge end
muffled stroke long-span
depth mum wash slow-mo
pliant dive glassine yolk
meld limpid canopy


Hermes in Oakland

In another metal universe
I savor the oil-coated lily
divine numbers with a scrap of sun
regenerate tissue faster
than my body withers
bursts it bubble
and fills the air with gas
I try to eat the planet slowly
so as to sense every crag
every head and its spark
my mouth on every tree
my hand on your mound



In the meantime I’ll prune your elders
with the sharp side of the sea
calculate the bottomfeeders in your feeder
fending for one’s meal when it comes time

Your gate hung with garlands of skulls
& dried curd
outerfields where metal mountains sprung
where I encountered giant lice
& a map of Uranus

When the time comes I’ll come
on a nest of spiders
squeeze a serotonin bubble on my gash
It all depends on how much
I want to be lost
in a den of twisted plasma
spoiling the reserves with my steam

Wrecked on the wheel
swooning for blubber
our world won’t come into being
without the necessary glands
I will staunch the ogre flow
melt mammal reactor’s wick

Concentric signals radio in
to my informant brain
insomnia tatters the lining of time
chaos pictograms
equinox’s bare promise
forgotten heads loll in the road

I light a torch to see yesterday’s
addiction to becoming today
where it went wrong
and why the sore won’t heal


This Luxuriant Castle

Plugged in and knee-deep
someone figured out what I wasn’t
burnt beyond falsification
the sun and I fused into piles of bones

Not a figment of lamekind’s imagination
or crumpled plankton spume
one last breath to hold me to it
simmering in a nucleon stew
black with anthrax
looking toward stun-sun corolla
the words I burst sank
growled a star into being

Heart’s empire bloodshare
held me accountable for false psychic wounds
gross violation of the interplanetary clause
in wrinkled nova batter

The fish kiss at the bottom of the rio
plant clowns instead of corn
gargle the remnants of a canyon
as it succumbs to extinction
happy days are here again


Brian-LucasBrian Lucas’s books include Eclipse Babel (2015, Ensemble Editions), Circles Matter (2012, BlazeVox Books), Light House (2006, Meetings Eyes Bindery), and Force Fields (2010, Hooke Press), a drawing/poetry collaboration with Andrew Joron. His paintings have recently been included in the shows Dark Star: Abstraction and Cosmos (Planthouse, NYC) and Divine Invasions (Krowswork, Oakland, CA). He plays bass in Dire Wolves and resides in Oakland, CA.