fun and games.fun and games until you drown in vomit
that you've tickled up your
that's a fun-and-games tunnel
to slide your whole hand down
to grab the tough muscle of heart
squeeze it of all fun-and-games pumping
since the heartbeat's a masturbation
or a leak in god's plumbing those are
your two choices the chapel door, the manhole,
or the fun-and-games mirror shard drapery sunset
piling piling under the tower
shed from facades from finishing work
your gables are creaking, santa's boots
santa's coal eating stocking
chalked full of roses
choked on the end of a razor blade, naturally
oh the violent violent course of the violet fortress
you had me at hello, fun-and-games in your trousers
a magnum, a chestnut, an xbox-360
maximal statement of nothingness no its not
violently oh my god
never the whip whip-ping
violently oh my god
staining the pews with the blood
from the lashes
your terrible fashion pain
(Middle.)even further, caused by the urge
from compass spines
the sooty feet bleeding out
by the quiet cool river
erupting in flames from
surging with the dead root
of winding woodland trails
as was promised, rather it was
in passing glances,
make sense of it
trying to grab at it,
at the ends of fingers;
their gemstone knowledge
finally, but not in the sky
found on the whispers
that lead to an internal desert
of some focal point
the middle forgot
to wash the hands and
deftly as they flew across
to remember the order of events.
In the Catullian Paradigm.I think the most truth comes when the tap is unfiltered.
You lipped a bottle of water and your pink tongue
you didn't even stop to think how I felt
in the light of it all
as you radiated something that
invented a pacemaker and interrupted it. Physically,
my heart pored at the air but was still too short
to reach a ceiling of oxygen pure
that would only serve to make it woozy.
I fumbled around schoolchildly and
lost control of several limbs.
And of course the smile afterwords
would chirp Beethoven's 9th
ringtoning an infinite new vocabulary,
spilling down by our feet
in the sensation of shag carpet,
which was now called introverasma
your new techno disco light show
outfit speaking out
of the mouths
of the cohorts
of the retinue
of the profoundly polished prolific angelic demonic persons
of colors, millions, unsegregatable.
And your name in a trillion blind-lights fanned across
my psyche-population's sensory organs
who squeal-moan, high-pit
Possessive Compulsive.Slap my own wrists schizophrenic
grabbing, grabbing, grabbing
the first and most human emotion:
Insult myself for complimenting
my own appearance, my own performance;
the audience only claps if they get it
clasp it in their senses, digesting
on the drive home.
The midnight colors
exist not to please
the sound of your sigh escaping elated
exists not for my own fulfillment.
There is no true possession
never will I truly have you
as you are your own.
So keep your hands and eyes
to yourself, my window-shopping soul
is broke, is broke, is broke.
First Visit to the Zoo.In the grid of the orchard
and later again in the ragged jungle
a wild kiss told me what love is,
and I will share with you exactly what.
Love is a monkey cage
and I am ice cream sticky
(or at least my heart is,
pasted to bars by hands,
little, but quite proportional
to my heart's eager 3rd grader body,
whose ballcapped ears ignore his name
called from the teacher gazebo,)
never stopping to ponder
what side of the bars I'm truly on,
blinded by the desire to squeeze my
head through the sweaty bars of July
to touch the chimpanzee
and offer the last of my ice cream,
in exchange for a green banana
or a circus trick
or the missing link
Yeah, love is a monkey cage
an enormous lullaby
that nuzzles the eardrum raw
that destroys the last tickle of dawn
that eked from the edge of a napkin
that was mapped over by total baboons
that knew no difference bet
Pyrrhic Beings.person. taciturn palette
defines the morning.
sepia pools of real despair.
feel tired, the sleep still on you,
the miles of roads dilute into
the stale blue nothing up above
where nothing exists but the solemn hawks
who eye the yellow brambles
colorblind? for the necessary
but focus on the colors, the colors of
morning between your two thumbs,
placed on midwestern "cities",
the color of morning on that stretch.
we build roads. no? roads fan out
and weave in bridges.
the tired construction workers.
the black exhaust pipes.
windburnt lungs, swollen hands,
patterned valises in the
how do you measure success in
beauty? starve? paint?
the true misery.
on blank slates.
in the total failure of endlessness.
the flaw, conserving your energy.
a cold front.
pump gas, tires.
make the rubber skin terse.
wear to the metal on the roads
that bind to ea
Eau.shimmering icicles whisper silence
in singing wind, in sun shining
sloping to tips pointed groundward
refracting light anointed in water
glazed on the spindly teeth off the gutter
curtain the doorframe, freeze shut the cellar
positioned at the mouthy cathedral
on either side of the gate
birds bathe, take a drink
ripple out, a little lake
and satisfies as would the flow
as would the breeze
as would the snow whipping
up as would the fluid stabbing
pain that throbs around the eyelids
too little sleep to put to sleep
weep! oh, Culture, weep!
for famine data, weep!
for cell phone tower ivy, weep!
oh, for morning dew on touchscreens,
for irrigation motherboards, oh for,
oh, weeping itself, the sake of it, weep!
until the moisture of the sea
feels dry to your skin
and the birds chirp appears in your ear
as they drain deafening in receding waves.
Alliterally Metaphoria.erecting colossal palisades
palace aide's pallid gaze
glazed gauzy out in australia
canberra cambria wales
whales' wails fail to
faze the high high walls
tall, towering repeating
retreating to higher ground
around the town reveals
revises vision of
scale, scale scaly surface
facade facade facade
fraud maudlin parading
fading wading water
wetter muddy melty messy
mess massless mass amassed
massive, monolith monastery
sterile safe safe place face;
faceless facile facility
freely easily easing in
earmarking markedly meaninglessly
mostly mantra mountains amounting mounding
moving moulding meshing meeting
melding melting metal matter
more more more
and more as more could move
grooved roving rose
rise risen rising raising
rampart repellent represent
present perfect passive
past, again, still.
Lignite.breathing zeitgeists ripple by
as they jet across eyesight
a man is crying off soot
and his shoulders shutter
in the stale air of the dark tunnel
it finds an inky beginning
at a ballpoint
furnishing every shadowy teardrop
this is not immortal
simply kept alive
he smokes newports
and has a beard
most find him attractive
he has intimate details
calluses only felt
when holding hands with this man
and simple statements:
and knitting eyebrows
to see him now up there
how he visits his mother
and kisses her tired hands
asleep by a hospital bed
and you manage just that glimpse
before swirling, this spirit leaves you
and your eyes lay naked
on the popcorn ceiling
what race was he? had he loved? who was hospitalized?
oh how little image survives at the present
but your mind can fill in the blankness
for nominal fees, minuscule prices