"The swastika/ was once the Wheel of Life;"

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Issue 13: Free Form

Issue 12: The Necessary Ear

Issue 11: The Necessary Eye

Issue 10: Out on a Limb

Issue 9: The Missing Body

Issue 8: The Lily

Issue 7: Passages

Issue 6: No More Tears

Louis Giron


The blacksmith goes lame from his hammer.
Leather tans the tanner;
and, on what had been eyeballs and tongue,
acid, from a broken flask,
etches out his name.

The dancer is danced:
the rye is in St. Vitus;
and the ergot is in the rye

Brahma/Vishnu spare us.

feed on carrion; and
would rather fish than fight;
can be toilet-trained, and can be bathed
and perfumed, and have been known to weep.

The cross
becomes the hilt of a sword;
the crescent of the moon,
the curve of a saber;
the edges of their sacredness
drip warm and red.

grow or die; grow to die;
cancer cells
grow until the organism dies;
by growing, kill us.

Vishnu/Brahma heal us.

The swastika
was once the Wheel of Life;
the American Flag,
once the guardian of freedom.



I saw a video last night. The pale woman
was hiding from the police. Her face
looked like a vixen; she cried
like a blossom. A much younger hunky
sandy-haired student (a beamish Neanderthal
with parted lips) fell in love with her and
helped (take the clothes off)
her. Without verisimilitude, he ran
as fast as her taxicab to warn her,
but she was taken
by the dolormondo police, looking
like vaudeville villains
with seriousness as a disease
and moustaches as a way of life. I think
that they lived in Argentina, drank
the water there, and spoke
Spanish, but it could have been Classical
non-frabjous Greek; I couldn't tell
which because Spanish sounds like Greek
when the sound is off.
Anyway, I ran the tape