Friday, July 21, 2017


clause implodes, linguistics hav-
ing been shortened, irrhythmical-
ly irregular, bulletin point sent
blown capsule aggregative folk: a
blessing for naima turned my tab-

les onto mathematics which appear
in the ground and foreground both
romantic and obviously forgotten,
oh illiterate humanity and young-
er lungs are at work, believe-- i

limit myself with integral, phys-
ic psychedelia, and pay the piper
whose tune has yet to be called..
i always wanted it this way, such
that i can recline infinitesimal;

mania of shattered infrastructure
observed on the primary wednesday
of the month, the mouthings open-
ed my mind to nullsleep & all de-
void of tropicalia-- it's so hard

to punctuate that it punctured so
visionism move me around a lot as
if in water with moonage, hyster-
ian curandera come freely through
epochs of bondage, and faultlines

distract your attention momentar-
ily as befits their grandeurs and
must be closed: let us walk, pray
gentility cozen the felt abstain-
ing nonvote, this happens before.

Monday, July 10, 2017


the padded synthetic junglism, oh
how it weighs heavy like an heavy
weight, pugilist/gregarious punch
to the face that dislodges one or
more teeth.. it's been designated

to lift me off my feet and intro-
duce me to the lights--which also
pack punches--and liquor that i'd
left behind, the distasted bright
sunblood that rolls around in the

clover and waterfall cities, hav-
ing given all it could to my city
and so have i, and it's only rec-
ently that i'd come to understand
that i am an early riser, sleepy;

well, it might not quite be art--
maybe i've got to prepare myself,
read the arts of warmongers in an
eyeglass, raised-eyebrow manner &
if that's so, then how could i be

sure of anything anymore? i drank
the liquid in and let it flow in-
side my veins--like having such a
choice--and the result was a bomb
and a flower, and in that i shall

certainly decide: making love, or
making hate and it seems selfsame
to me at least that the only rad-
ical position is selfless genera-
tion, yes i am calling your name.

Sunday, June 25, 2017


preposterous scalene imagination-
ist gun-jumping, which has fervor
to strike and ravish, blossomings
and the grown-women power of non-
sense--but is still novel--oh how

its name rolls on the tongue like
a typewriter, shorter and shorter
stories and coltrane quintets, an
entry within heaven should signi-
fy some sort of heaven, but i was

still fully involved in the star-
gazing paradigm shift and accomp-
lished parades, how and why twins
everyone with the big book and an
obvious cryptomnesiac fluttering;

team sleep, powered by economical
circumstances that place us some-
where in the previous aeon: time?
if it became fixed? it would pro-
bably bleed into the culture with

an heretofore unmeditated mazatec
fearlessness which expels both of
the interested parties in a perm-
anent display of agricultural and
intellectually preservationistic-

al affection that renders us cat-
atonic for a while and then, com-
ing up gasping for air, it'd have
been as a dream, and i know this,
just like i have seen your faces.

Saturday, June 17, 2017


lifter and the power and coherent
pearls, not before swine or reach
for the sky--as in, on its behalf
and commonry--the dizzied purview
of privilege and imprisonment.. i

thought, momentarily that to pos-
sess a mind would lead to release
but there are such as wind, keys,
and even gold that can be sharper
than any instrument entold by the

enfolding embrace of parenthood &
its concomitant innocence--which,
if worn from the inside out, her-
meneutically, is perpetual--given
without price, world without end;

vertigo washes as if the techne i
need to accomplish myself upon my
memory, a blessing in disguise to
be so clich├ęd because, oh because
to be beautiful is to be puissant

and pursued.. goodbyes floated in
inflammable liquors that i cannot
bring myself to burn, like the a-
gainstist mercy that never arriv-
es in time to blunt the scalpel--

there are bones, however, harden-
ed in temperance by the instruct-
ions of perhaps some other aeon &
gives voice to the tired and poor
and huddled masses, at what cost.

Thursday, June 15, 2017


clicky, cutting countoff that i'd
seen burst forth like a butterfly
emerges from the sunned scattered
plot with the icicles and irides-
cence to prove it.. patrician and

severity with anniversaries, near
not feared, oh how does this ever
apply to our lives, and at such a
time? the questioner itself might
be viewed irreligious and insane,

but i'm sympathetic to a fault: a
wintered summary that wickedness,
following into the peacock's wake
won't disrupt/disturb an envelop-
ing bass that calms like a truth;

i can feel the applause and ador-
ation rising on the planes, half-
girl paradigm shattering sky, yet
told more lovely-- entirely unvi-
olent but encompassionately ultra

and redeeming valuable, she's got
tired of the attention but cannot
give it up foreverwise, and if we
have a word of caution, it sounds
something like the road does when

travelled in mystery: i am always
asking for something even when my
mouth is closed and you have ever
risen to the occasion with little
smoke, lasers, and simple things.

Wednesday, May 31, 2017


i feel an impetus rising in these
walls: as it were a plague on our
house but we've long since earned
immunity, all the infinities, and
their eternities, wolved with the

woebegone ugliness of intelligent
fire.. i don't despise myself but
i'm learning to grow into a shell
built for me by an innocent & who
dwelt in hell-- how i long to ad-

vocate for contralto advice & the
grasping impenetrability that you
suspect would divine us into per-
haps another world like annie for
a while, no not the one you know;

the tenth track on the disc isn't
always the best, but it makes you
most immaculate: laser-guided be-
yond impeccability through to the
crowflight fidgeting, that summum

bonum that feels like progressive
house in the early evening, oh my
god i am full of contraindication
and need a builder to construct a
purpose for my life, any ideas? i

surrender my infants' breath to a
chromatic angel whose wrists, yet
intact are the terminal for tears
that begin in the heart and you'd
not expect such but help survive.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017


sleeping milky with the attribute
of attrition, nay all these wars,
hallelujah people that march into
the tide with the fearlessness of
someone who knows god.. untressed

but purposefully, as if her style
wasn't vital or heady, but she is
become the indica girl euphoriant
and sibilant with the soul-smack-
ing sense of it, all while watch-

ing the fanblades revolve (in re-
verse) to cool us and soothe, the
air renewed by movement in a con-
structive vector and the science,
it falls unexplainable and vapor;

spirit revelational my father let
us fly-- making things by methods
such as poiesis and instructional
moving video, anyway half-bidden:
prepared for an afterlifetime our

eyes will weep to see and lifted,
in this faith and order to listen
with the perception of those made
in-between, we are more than con-
querors through him who loved us:

if you believe, if you can feel a
motion inwardly and recognize the
hebrew tongue, and if you wrapped
your arms around your child today
you're as invited as anyone else.