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.