Tuesday, October 30, 2018


our rolled aeon generative & mag-
niloquent like the soarings frit-
tered, waked, seasonist antiquity 
jumped up smacking and so falling
down commits the ultimate justice

upon the unordered and disarrayed
remnant of thoroughly blown mind:
shaked, emotional warrior stance,
but only peacefully in the inter-
est of stood three trees, playing

skipping games & all blackened as
hazel stripped the beech entrance
to the forevermemoried thicket of
psilocin and its utterly uncount-
ed children lay down upon mesmer;

the darkening boy shook his hands
and murmured revelation, the book
set unclosable like a hole in the
wall to watch and surprisingly as
you should like an omnibenevolent

lifetime piled up stirring, slept
put to bed but remained optimist,
and these're what was rumoured to
have happened (and did).. did you
know that, just because something

really happened, couldn't bear on
whether it's true? and as a child
i'd been sung unto sleep in those
trees with the deafening silences
yet powerful of urim and thummim.

Thursday, October 18, 2018


i even surprise myself.. you have
this ineluctable cold call in the
palms, victoria of absent politic
so that my lolling eye--revolving
around at least our sun--captured

the hunter and is the game: grave
me over again like you do, music-
ians arranged with big imbecility
& irredeemably conspicuous tongue
shivering jemmy and other delect-

ables notwithstanding.. my bodies
are ready for the impactful entry
of entertainment that nonetheless
glibs me and dripping just so can
border the surrealist infinities;

what is it to need to believe you
such that my lolling eye revolted
with the inhuman intellect of as-
sonance, fortuna pleading guilty,
and sri-aurobindianism all've yet

took photographs of inscription &
ornament that consummate the love
inherent in hospitable design and
spoorloos? in other words, if i'd
spiked my vein with the insolvent

gold of generations, marking time
like an hermit-king so hebridean-
ly blacked, is clevinger and otto
the antipsychiatrical theatre you
wanted from me, or do you settle.

Sunday, October 7, 2018


recession, you can wade into deep
water and the shore hides the sky
so merciful to blinded wandering:
i told myself i'd be the girl who
cried the prettiest and fearfully

gave in to the ivory knife before
the cycling snow crept over still
eyelids, lashing me, and that was
the end of that lifetime, and you
didn't stop talking & today's our

birthday-- and then there was, as
it were, a lacuna.. redbreastened
moistener that makes fools of us,
oh time and the march and all the
unforgiven, bustling linguistics;

i don't care how ugly i am & much
less how beautiful i've become as
it's got all too much shining ill
like sexuality so i suppose water
is the appropriate image: respect

and full-stop automata, mechanic-
al fellowship or am i even talked
out, all given in to the hysteri-
cally militant camp (which i'd so
love to null) that what's growing

in me is not a girl & not a youth
yearning to breathe, but somebody
shut down my solitary confinement
and i'll tell you one true thing:
monosyllable glossolalia repeats.

Monday, October 1, 2018


audio forecast, cut ties discour-
ager forest & god blessed me with
you: bleeding like a sheet, paper
lantern yet the building is shook
as if kissed by leesa but rhythms

are sharpening my fragile gifts..
while i walk on water the violent
memories crash me, we have become
a machine that reduces fractions,
all unrepenting peace and candles

that emit the perfect unremitting
flames to wake you up, carry your
body down the stairs, and eventu-
ally carry it back upstairs tuck-
ing you undercover like a secret;

every now and then the feedback's
got to stop: pennant which strewn
across the corners covers evening
and submerges me in the cerebral,
polarising surf.. my fingers move

faster than i can unwind, and the
world has moved on (this much i'm
sure of), settler shortening like
the stilettos of farming & cracks
in the crust which always upwards

themselves with expectant youth..
coda is birdsong, cerise, crowned
you with triumph according to the
tenor, and rolling slow down fast
against the current, yes: resist.