Monday, November 27, 2017


you've been wintering in spacey,
solvent home retrograde theorist
who's got the whole world in her
hands, power to know and will to
silence, mere philosophy hinder-

ed the intellect with handicaps,
bergeron sunburst crippling also
blood-- i came to you without in
the inference of geometry proved
nothingness orbiting our attempt

to map the science of intuition,
which learned us, utterly rubric
and generative dance with scalar
drunkenness yet style, defensive
and built for perpetual collage;

strummer shocked with tropics, a
book in the building and a woman
who carries her stockings on her
legs, semi-attached, as it wants
pulse to subsist in theatrical &

creative, decadent liberty.. you
glance at the portrait, and find
a flaw which we've done our best
to efface but fluent harmonics &
reedy jangling allure us to out-

skirts, long enough to cover the
subject & short enough to remain
interesting, did you just create
a joke and will you put the ket-
tle on listening for the secret.


old, wrecked skin, which was al-
so anointed, according to all of
the minimal reservations, worlds
spanned and didn't want to come,
so steel, magnetical imagination

dripped as if from a faucet, the
words are so sativa, bodied them
with analysis and fact, replete:
i've taken tiny steps, and hold-
ing the light in my mouth, björk

lion stonemilker and oathwielder
who caresses the cascading, ever
cautious and adventuring for the
sakes of reinvigorated language,
that won't work, didn't display;

suppose you try to heal yourself
holding on the audio track visu-
alised an open vista that wasn't
a system, reversal games incomp-
etent liar and noncompetitive no

riddling that would intelligent-
ly design, whatsoever d'you wish
we're doing here? did you decide
to deny? whether your own power,
or anyone else's, it's criminal:

however love exculpates, and in-
sisting that love is never dull-
ed by the procession of sophist-
ry intaglio on the surface we're
rubbing, moving working through.

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.