Thursday, November 23, 2017


millionfelt folded origami stare
and whitening the smile that was
dropped from a story window, re-
lentlessly original storytelling
paradigm in future that subsumes

all the gold-dust and the preci-
ous metals that move the engines
grand, slow, harnessed, generous
oxygen circulating by dint of my
cleanliness.. shuddering drinker

blinking out the stars with old-
en stories moving her guts and i
didn't leave her there, no! soul
fall down and fire, she had for-
given me before i ever set foot;

rhymes that boast splendid magic
given the river which divided us
both sky and glancing, blow upon
pipe, and also involving oneself
in the tragic comedy of karma, a

ritual which is--to some--sacred
but which gives me toothache, so
sweetening a delicacy, currently
subsisting on tongues inside the
logic substituted for sensuality

in the wind.. there's a gotham &
a self-reliance, and confessions
are usually uninteresting to all
but the dreamer, so consider our
engagement post-rocked & mathed.

Sunday, November 19, 2017


aurelian mystic, natured & good,
like the electronic sigh, which,
having moved upon the faces this
girl was watching, chimes beauty
unutterable and unforgettable in

the same width as a breath, mak-
ing beautiful sustenance for our
family and its savior-- what the
truth said was almost graspable:
came covered up like a shadowing

parable and the mouth that gives
voice to the pooling of honeys &
milk, in the future.. o how holy
my savior, my master and my king
united triumvirate triumphantly;

all the poetry--over the millen-
nia--coalesced into the wavering
sign between the eyes of the in-
dian girl, whose arms were lift-
ed hands dancing to feel an ult-

imate and everlasting rhythm the
world whispered to itself "we've
forgotten.." as safe as nothing,
so that her palms could trace an
hypersigil in the skies that un-

beknownst to us all were secret-
ively withholding their clouding
rains, waiting for the chance to
enthrone her and wreath her with
stars but it went on from there.

Sunday, November 12, 2017


arcanist dignity, combine us the
flavorless, odorless, tasteless,
colourless elixir of life! rowed
and bower, prepare for prayer my
big, strong hands.. that i may &

am, withdrawing the embarrassing
revved motoric meteora while the
play drags and stutters, all the
better to insist itself forsaken
and tickle our scalps with magic

like creativities, bursting into
the scene with entrance, as if i
didn't mention dramatic flair, o
grace strum and stun me so fine,
and so that i've been incumbent;

nonaggressional pact, commenting
upon, such as the weather or the
storm in a teacup or a ship in a
bottle, mastery made us this way
and who am i to confront himself

given the recalcitrant impulse a
forever ago, signed-- lullabies,
marxism, and bruxism? when faced
thus fair, is it far? sometimes,
yes it just happens fortuitously

like a furious and reclining new
style, fourier the fantastic law
that digitally processes, yet we
may also extract: like the eggs,
like the trees beneath the seas.

Saturday, November 4, 2017


oh lover of waterfalling and she
wheels with the wind, and not an
eye dried by it-- looking to our
forebears for this free verbiage
and moreso and moreover the dogs

licked his sores.. don't despise
skipping hazel again, diminished
the overclocked impulse to rule:
my magister, lean like you'd got
thin and so weedy (like theodore

nott) then i will compress intu-
ition long enough to've written,
oh, possibly farewells, or bene-
dictions that dismiss us in ord-
er, enough to fifty-fifty clown;

you want to make me something so
beautiful that it made strangers
cry, and i see what you're talk-
ing about but how much better we
should laugh? catharsis can have

been useful, betimes, and we can
not know how longer we'd sustain
the charade-- all my friends are
somehow in the past, but my fam-
ily is so immanent that i choose

to learn how to improve myself--
doubly benefitted and graciously
accepting the mantle of personal
development: yes, like a photo..
from nothingness to colour, now.

Sunday, October 29, 2017


we spoke lovingly, as if admired
the broadstrokes, impressionist-
ical and heavied with the glaci-
al pedagogy of a mistress.. or a
master? comme ci, comme ├ža their

babbly literature that attempted
to reconcile the culture with an
homotropical source-- no, gianna
it doesn't matter: if they don't
understand & perhaps though they

came to scoff they should remain
to pray.. massive and inter alia
and loudly announcing each move-
ment in moments indivisible, yet
harmonic and so dreadfully thin;

excellent good my tutor speaking
through the spokes as they roll,
roll on in the rain, maybe, else
proudly pound consummation's re-
fraction splitting their hastily

indrawn breath, which we've und-
erstood to express surprise-- is
it that easy, all the time? even
though i talk to you in the book
i expect you're growing satiated

with the regal adorers.. make it
new, strike it through, make son
song through the rays that adorn
the strings, so much like little
beads of dew, which we remember.

Saturday, October 21, 2017


i hope you'll excuse the punch..
disabled grayscale with windows,
shaping scraped in the castlings
and hero worship, so unutterable
with propositions and detection:

she is working on a building, an
hymn that can't be sung honestly
in the past as we now live it as
we all see the present as an im-
possibility, sometimes, laconic-

al and transparencied from their
weaving symbols and traceries in
the air above the flames, rising
indelicate & in flagrante delic-
to the aphasic murmurers' reeds;

counting and measuring with vel-
ocity like a physical organisat-
ion.. my blackened power, metals
by smittening me with most isra-
eli/montparnassian vivre, critic

overstanding wheel away closer &
spike me with a blade tempered &
sharpened with the fluttering on
the breath of that same fire-- a
dysphemistic synecdoche that set

my teeth on edge and my hair too
on fire, as if the woman were a-
ble to forgive and had bled, for
i find feeble the folded fingers
obvious in these failing frames.

Tuesday, October 17, 2017


scuffled a bit for spare change,
rarest-bluer and shifting notice
that's posted and careens around
the headspace in the shop oh i'd
fake being english and study the

night dry for an abject pleasure
of watching the faces drop.. off
the clocks, raygun fluid twisted
upstairs, knock twice don't ring
the doorbell don't wake the dor-

mouse-- dealt from the bottom of
the deck to serve you the magni-
ficent sunning array of yarrow &
it's pooling, pooling, frozen to
the tongue yet melting, melting;

i don't really think style's all
that important, honestly: you'll
give us substance and we'll bear
you good will, clasped hands re-
generating the automatism of re-

psychiatric duology & this story
seems to be of a host of ghosts,
whether carrier-signalled or up-
wards spiralling so pristine the
middlemarch air that reels with-

in the puddle of deep white, go-
ing backwards slow to remember i
greet the girl and show us to my
room, which is a king, who isn't
mannerismed.. or to be compared.