you were secretly
back in town
but lying
in red flowers
last night
outside somewhere
i used a dowsing
branch to try
to find you
willow led
me there
but i kept
back with
some nightbirds
today i woke
early again
i ordered
an akutagawa
and a houellebecq
i would like
to be your
monsier sometime
and read you
such things
or vice versa
my pillow
cloud i fluff
i am fully-loaded
like the matrix
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
i am gonna ben AFLAC you
good when i get
my hands on you
i am gonna ben AFLAC
you in a craft store
and a copy store too
my hands on you
i am gonna ben AFLAC
you in a craft store
and a copy store too
you're my earth
CARSONVILLE SHOOT-OUT
Was Posted by
Autobiography of Won't
but evening,
maybe bed. 0 winter of sleep
alone. sleep.
sheep ices
OCEAN
solace of
branches.
what scratches
SLIGHAGE
something omitting
my fall. language
erotic luggage.
no menagerie.
VET
eros. frost
dotcoms nature.
spreads rapidly
its skein? aerie nets of men...
VALENTINE FOR YOU
eerie mabness
mothers
moss may I
feel under
your ass love
kiss its mosses
your spine's funny ices of molasses
your hot cleft tude
Was Posted by
Autobiography of Won't
but evening,
maybe bed. 0 winter of sleep
alone. sleep.
sheep ices
OCEAN
solace of
branches.
what scratches
SLIGHAGE
something omitting
my fall. language
erotic luggage.
no menagerie.
VET
eros. frost
dotcoms nature.
spreads rapidly
its skein? aerie nets of men...
VALENTINE FOR YOU
eerie mabness
mothers
moss may I
feel under
your ass love
kiss its mosses
your spine's funny ices of molasses
your hot cleft tude
spring epistolary to john: fore (skin)
planked between this again. the wall
at heat
them up. knows your happy. ne monkfish.
you are flowers.
are you between everything?
the usual spring plankings
spring epistolary to john: fie
oh tupperware
moves to men slumping against balls and the world, novel.
planking river islands are laughing yet. they didn't plank with me.
funny in russian Tuesday, to rises rolls
do you want me to be
over.cooked
the gayest-ass look. shining
at heat
them up. knows your happy. ne monkfish.
you are flowers.
are you between everything?
the usual spring plankings
spring epistolary to john: fie
oh tupperware
moves to men slumping against balls and the world, novel.
planking river islands are laughing yet. they didn't plank with me.
funny in russian Tuesday, to rises rolls
do you want me to be
over.cooked
the gayest-ass look. shining
spring epistolary to john: twee
begins greek sun over.
because March not green dick crocusare name
now laughs was fake perfection
humans won't phlegm 24, 2009 lovers
hey my your fish.
the tilapia.
because March not green dick crocusare name
now laughs was fake perfection
humans won't phlegm 24, 2009 lovers
hey my your fish.
the tilapia.
spring epistolary to john: tude
the liquor tupperwarepink light.
music says je fais la two up tho. up.
the old store.
the sun maybe a russian merely planking
ducks haven't appeared
roll over me again
cook like snow. streetsand a dragon
music says je fais la two up tho. up.
the old store.
the sun maybe a russian merely planking
ducks haven't appeared
roll over me again
cook like snow. streetsand a dragon
hey jupiter
your river islands
are not green yet.
the gayest-ass ducks
haven't appeared
to laugh yet. dick crocus
are up tho. tupperware
moves to the streets
and children spake up.
the old men slump
against the wall
at the liquor store.
the sun begins to heat
them up. tupperware
pink light. look. shining
through the pillow
that knows your name
now laughs at this.
i am aflame. a dragon
begins to rise from my balls
and the greek sun rolls
over. like everything
in the world, everything
rolls over. because music
says it is spring again.
i am happy. nowhere.
"je fais la planche."
k.d. is singing.
planked between blues
above, below.
you gotta plank your fish.
the best chefs explain.
one guy cooked the tilapia.
without letting it set.
he didn't plank it,
it was the end.
the end.
of perfection.
cook with me.
funny fake perfection
humans allow.
oh maybe like snow. in russian novel.
you are a russian novel. already.
planking the spring.
the flowers.
are you merely planking me?
a tilapia. ne monkfish.
planked between two blues?
two chefs?
oh john, this spring. it won't phlegm the flowers again.
are not green yet.
the gayest-ass ducks
haven't appeared
to laugh yet. dick crocus
are up tho. tupperware
moves to the streets
and children spake up.
the old men slump
against the wall
at the liquor store.
the sun begins to heat
them up. tupperware
pink light. look. shining
through the pillow
that knows your name
now laughs at this.
i am aflame. a dragon
begins to rise from my balls
and the greek sun rolls
over. like everything
in the world, everything
rolls over. because music
says it is spring again.
i am happy. nowhere.
"je fais la planche."
k.d. is singing.
planked between blues
above, below.
you gotta plank your fish.
the best chefs explain.
one guy cooked the tilapia.
without letting it set.
he didn't plank it,
it was the end.
the end.
of perfection.
cook with me.
funny fake perfection
humans allow.
oh maybe like snow. in russian novel.
you are a russian novel. already.
planking the spring.
the flowers.
are you merely planking me?
a tilapia. ne monkfish.
planked between two blues?
two chefs?
oh john, this spring. it won't phlegm the flowers again.
Autobiography of Red
Probably red
is tired of the Underworld
too, tired of Wittgenstein
and the other
poets. I sleep
alone. My lips
speak a funny
Greek in my sleep.
I cook for you,
so far away
I believe it's
another country.
It's spring.
Red only imagines
its vogue
now. Again,
the excess of red
on its way
to the ocean
can still be
a deceiving thing,
accompanied or
alone, it won't
wilt, damn it
funny red
music of you:
your long arms
around the tree,
your autobiography
of red, I know
I can't write it,
but maybe I can.
Clouds get devious
red at evening,
maybe Anne Carson
in a bath, sings
"je fais la planche"
with k.d. lang
the quiet underworld
of Canadians
We could have,
we could be.
Even in America,
strange Notley red
you bring me;
we swim with women,
you and me. We
blend so well,
we could marry
red to earth.
We could speak
towards our women,
the defeated monster
could lie between us,
in a sweet hymeneal bed.
is tired of the Underworld
too, tired of Wittgenstein
and the other
poets. I sleep
alone. My lips
speak a funny
Greek in my sleep.
I cook for you,
so far away
I believe it's
another country.
It's spring.
Red only imagines
its vogue
now. Again,
the excess of red
on its way
to the ocean
can still be
a deceiving thing,
accompanied or
alone, it won't
wilt, damn it
funny red
music of you:
your long arms
around the tree,
your autobiography
of red, I know
I can't write it,
but maybe I can.
Clouds get devious
red at evening,
maybe Anne Carson
in a bath, sings
"je fais la planche"
with k.d. lang
the quiet underworld
of Canadians
We could have,
we could be.
Even in America,
strange Notley red
you bring me;
we swim with women,
you and me. We
blend so well,
we could marry
red to earth.
We could speak
towards our women,
the defeated monster
could lie between us,
in a sweet hymeneal bed.
Monday, March 23, 2009
O john throw your arms
O john throw your arms
around a solitary
tree, look for
vireos, apologies
in the branches
sprouting green
in the cold above
everything look
there are stars
roving, moving
as if they need
something. Do
do do do they?
a bird said
around a solitary
tree, look for
vireos, apologies
in the branches
sprouting green
in the cold above
everything look
there are stars
roving, moving
as if they need
something. Do
do do do they?
a bird said
Friday, March 20, 2009
where is snorkles
Snorkles, have you
traded snail shells
and quit the smell
do you green your branches
amid lolly-tinct
animals, antlered
dining rooms, snafued
iron maiden chitlings?
Spring is sprung
on a cleft tongue
come say hither
with pollen fluff
all over your etsy
quietness, snows
avaunt us
traded snail shells
and quit the smell
do you green your branches
amid lolly-tinct
animals, antlered
dining rooms, snafued
iron maiden chitlings?
Spring is sprung
on a cleft tongue
come say hither
with pollen fluff
all over your etsy
quietness, snows
avaunt us
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
I Think the Shadow Man in the Unfilled Out Profile Is You....
Hey, I heard about www.typeanalyzer.com which psychoanalyzes blogs...
It pegged mine as "The Artists" and I figured ours would just be the same...and all poetry blogs would be the same...MAIS NON....
Listen here...this blog has been psychoanalyzed as....
ESFP - The Performers
The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves. The enjoy work that makes them able to help other people in a concrete and visible way. They tend to avoid conflicts and rarely initiate confrontation - qualities that can make it hard for them in management positions.
It pegged mine as "The Artists" and I figured ours would just be the same...and all poetry blogs would be the same...MAIS NON....
Listen here...this blog has been psychoanalyzed as....
ESFP - The Performers
The entertaining and friendly type. They are especially attuned to pleasure and beauty and like to fill their surroundings with soft fabrics, bright colors and sweet smells. They live in the present moment and don´t like to plan ahead - they are always in risk of exhausting themselves. The enjoy work that makes them able to help other people in a concrete and visible way. They tend to avoid conflicts and rarely initiate confrontation - qualities that can make it hard for them in management positions.
i will ask the goddess
to goose you tonight, Snorkles
I hope she hits your g-spot
with her importuning
i am out of tune
like a Caspian
Prosper me snasty tonight
Be me twyllingwell
Snorkles, abandon your
Odessan eyeset
I hope she hits your g-spot
with her importuning
i am out of tune
like a Caspian
Prosper me snasty tonight
Be me twyllingwell
Snorkles, abandon your
Odessan eyeset
nobody owns me
despite outward appearances
but you, Snorkles
i am given up for dread
my Tempest is filled with Ariels
alone all night I dream of you
Snorkles, locked in the wood
the physic I want to split it
and free you to me
not in slavery
but slavvery
tongue to tongue
the Pennsylvanian Age
begins Anew
but you, Snorkles
i am given up for dread
my Tempest is filled with Ariels
alone all night I dream of you
Snorkles, locked in the wood
the physic I want to split it
and free you to me
not in slavery
but slavvery
tongue to tongue
the Pennsylvanian Age
begins Anew
oh Snorkles
no kidding
if you don't understand me
i will be left alone
in my Unicorn Emporium
forever, patting
the stuffed medieval versions
that can't shake their ass
like you or your adverbs
if you don't understand me
i will be left alone
in my Unicorn Emporium
forever, patting
the stuffed medieval versions
that can't shake their ass
like you or your adverbs
wufus rainright
won't shut up
he keeps singing
about you
and my flip-flops
i wore down fifth avenue
i don't have any poses
just a rabbit crouch
before death
laughing mirrors
and the mezcal worm
swimming towards me
kiss me somewhere soon
or i will become that zombie
with the rufus manners in a library
the opera people run from
he keeps singing
about you
and my flip-flops
i wore down fifth avenue
i don't have any poses
just a rabbit crouch
before death
laughing mirrors
and the mezcal worm
swimming towards me
kiss me somewhere soon
or i will become that zombie
with the rufus manners in a library
the opera people run from
do you want
me to cry
it will shift the spheres
above in the gorgeous plastic
Moholy-Nagy where i was kissing
you for hours in dreams
last night
nobody smokes
i chew bubble gum
you don't like
but i dream
of you want to hear
your voice
tonight
it will shift the spheres
above in the gorgeous plastic
Moholy-Nagy where i was kissing
you for hours in dreams
last night
nobody smokes
i chew bubble gum
you don't like
but i dream
of you want to hear
your voice
tonight
Snorkles, you know you do
Now Snorkles you know you do
i am filled with potassium
from your words and irksomeness
come out of that Lepus hole
speak the magic throws
my Queen and Torsion
i am filled with potassium
from your words and irksomeness
come out of that Lepus hole
speak the magic throws
my Queen and Torsion
stroke the darkness in me
flautist proofs
are so exhausting
stop that
speak to me
you who are my aerie
moss on your rock face i'm licking
stop smiling that way
deviant me back inside
deeper
cloud me
as a serious cyclops wood
are so exhausting
stop that
speak to me
you who are my aerie
moss on your rock face i'm licking
stop smiling that way
deviant me back inside
deeper
cloud me
as a serious cyclops wood
i wanna be your boyfriend
even if you can only spare three years or so
i want to see it happen just once
a unicorn enter American Literature
i want to ride you just a bit
and vice versa
I understand Later you will become ferocious
which i think is funny, actually
i want to see it happen just once
a unicorn enter American Literature
i want to ride you just a bit
and vice versa
I understand Later you will become ferocious
which i think is funny, actually
i feel you are close
and devious
a black wing fighter
if you knew how virtuous i am
for you my peaches my errata
you would smile i tell you
a black wing fighter
if you knew how virtuous i am
for you my peaches my errata
you would smile i tell you
you talk tough
but what if i put my hand
there at the base of your rancor
and rubbed gladiolias on your morrissey neck
while feeding you sugar cubes
from my condescending Goldenbook palms
would that work ya think?
there at the base of your rancor
and rubbed gladiolias on your morrissey neck
while feeding you sugar cubes
from my condescending Goldenbook palms
would that work ya think?
i feel you and hear you and taste you
you turn me into haley joel osment
if you have no heart
i will swim forever
if you have no heart
i will swim forever
please smack your ass tonight
before you go to bed tonight
for me and try to hear the remix
of army of me some french fucked up
chicks are singing for you
right now
you make me all
sasha cohen
you make me peel
peaches meaninglessly
in my middle of night kitchen
for me and try to hear the remix
of army of me some french fucked up
chicks are singing for you
right now
you make me all
sasha cohen
you make me peel
peaches meaninglessly
in my middle of night kitchen
clover doesn't suck
it grows everywhere
and helps the planet breathe
from underneath
like Bjork don't mock
clover unless you're a dick
and you don't appreciate
the army of me that's under
your timmy shaking tonight
my hand there did you feel it
my lil casino royale
my effroi
and helps the planet breathe
from underneath
like Bjork don't mock
clover unless you're a dick
and you don't appreciate
the army of me that's under
your timmy shaking tonight
my hand there did you feel it
my lil casino royale
my effroi
timid caduceus
i wanna give you
your twin back
you lost in a gay caduceus
wandering the backside of those underwears
i found him
i'm sorry for the age difference
but i have extra forests to deploy
you can leave me there when the wolf comes
the one with the big saddle
and all that gay confetti
your twin back
you lost in a gay caduceus
wandering the backside of those underwears
i found him
i'm sorry for the age difference
but i have extra forests to deploy
you can leave me there when the wolf comes
the one with the big saddle
and all that gay confetti
only you raven my doors
raven my doors
cancel my twyllings
candle my spinwater
it's insane
i rub against you
twining the refusals
around my cock
it's mercurial usury
how you make me feel
cancel my twyllings
candle my spinwater
it's insane
i rub against you
twining the refusals
around my cock
it's mercurial usury
how you make me feel
matter rushery and whyspy
what holds you
to me, my cereal
truth you're no boy
clever geneticist
scientists are hot
in Godzilla movies
or not I want to be
your Japanese boonmate
I want to hold the boom
over your slavvery dreams
to me, my cereal
truth you're no boy
clever geneticist
scientists are hot
in Godzilla movies
or not I want to be
your Japanese boonmate
I want to hold the boom
over your slavvery dreams
yes i don't
yes i don't
without know
unless you tell
me or you
whoever twas
held your hand
that time held
mine i swear
held mine
without know
unless you tell
me or you
whoever twas
held your hand
that time held
mine i swear
held mine
accompany me
as you already do
caterpillar greens shush me
because you won't lie
your imaginary hand on me
lie next to me
caterpillar greens shush me
because you won't lie
your imaginary hand on me
lie next to me
dumbass steve irwin
went into our dark mother
got heart-shank-shivved
by quilled stingray penis
of sorts
of fear
oh a bouquet of pity
such dreams i have of you
elizabethan even
you spear me
got heart-shank-shivved
by quilled stingray penis
of sorts
of fear
oh a bouquet of pity
such dreams i have of you
elizabethan even
you spear me
you inhabit me
even if you are stingy
on this side of nature
you accompany me
and swim with me
funny stingray
every night now
your spickly barbel spines
that killed steve irwin
so funny
on the other side of our nature's
lesbian mother
on this side of nature
you accompany me
and swim with me
funny stingray
every night now
your spickly barbel spines
that killed steve irwin
so funny
on the other side of our nature's
lesbian mother
do you kiss
on the dark side of Nature
like i do? after all,
this is a travel arrangement
i am proposing. we are those
who swim in white noise
dive under
and find the Other world
like i do? after all,
this is a travel arrangement
i am proposing. we are those
who swim in white noise
dive under
and find the Other world
Marry Gold
where is my Master
Rebel Prince,
Rufus pines in the pines
to rid his dirty mind
of all of its
Greek preciousness.
Lucifer's a daffodil,
no doubt
gay as you & i,
and one thing
i saw when Heaven fell
is that it happened
in torrential music.
All the dark angels
moved the way
you do, Rufus
sings "marigold"
now, so sadly
at the end of this song,
no doubt Marigold
is another name for Lucifer
too, my dear Light-Bearer.
Return to me
though we can't go home
to Heaven.
Rebel Prince,
Rufus pines in the pines
to rid his dirty mind
of all of its
Greek preciousness.
Lucifer's a daffodil,
no doubt
gay as you & i,
and one thing
i saw when Heaven fell
is that it happened
in torrential music.
All the dark angels
moved the way
you do, Rufus
sings "marigold"
now, so sadly
at the end of this song,
no doubt Marigold
is another name for Lucifer
too, my dear Light-Bearer.
Return to me
though we can't go home
to Heaven.
tough love
i'm sorry
but i need to use a Vacuum
on your bedroom, Snorkles
since you seem so lazy
with cleaning up
the casual Absence
you strew
all over the goddamn place.
Love,
Mom.
but i need to use a Vacuum
on your bedroom, Snorkles
since you seem so lazy
with cleaning up
the casual Absence
you strew
all over the goddamn place.
Love,
Mom.
fuck somebody irish
the head popped off
Mary's baby
diode, too frou-frou
gasped that sorta bar
She shoulda known better
than drink green-tinct
carnations o'er angry cocks
parades arch for tits
and snagglepuss hierophants
which are you?
Sconed cutie
henged tone
Mary's baby
diode, too frou-frou
gasped that sorta bar
She shoulda known better
than drink green-tinct
carnations o'er angry cocks
parades arch for tits
and snagglepuss hierophants
which are you?
Sconed cutie
henged tone
Monday, March 16, 2009
Werevark: Wasn't enough but long.
Aardlinguist: Many might win. I don't house March anymore. The Last always writes head. Don't tell me how many on the website street are really about the cunt.
Werevark: Like I'm afraid of the type, magical flews of the problem. Glue-gunned furniture will move about the stage a lot. Gay boys look cute stretching in the afterglow. The gills of the moment.
Aardlinguist: Tell your Wampus all about it. You don't have to convince me of anything.
Werevark: Todd Oldham is just physical torture at the end. There's the territoriality but acted out and a supposed realism that romanticizes like those who are born but still unopened.
Aardlinguist: Let's watch Scooby Doo.
Werevark: Okay. The best are not of nature. Even Camille Paglia knew that, hardcore seargent's haircut and strap-on magical realism.
Aardlinguist: I believe we are experiencing a rally in the Woolf-Sappho Overdrive. German at Lovely stuntedness. Email betting start now?
Werevark: Sappy ho Valentine. Saponage. Sabo...sabo...saab...saaaboh....
Aardlinguist: Sad bonobo! Posted by banana reminds and feds of the invisible. Such writers like luck. Live with Imus demon blood if you can. Colorful hospice lottery scotch. Your Tropic of Macrophage. The front is like Salem's Lot, the middle's like Horst the photog, the backside is like squeamish mentalism in Blavatsky's laundromat where potatoes are also kept in phthalo-blue screened boxes.
Werevark: Do you like my cockstache?
Aardlinguist: Very much so. What is a rock anyway? Apologies proof to some philosopher of matter? A blog written in an eye, miscreant microtext, a Bunch of Whorange for a love gift. These are the things poets care about!
Werevakr: I like some dark gryphon's MTV blog Dream On blood. You Idiots. Crown sappho online. Divine an orange. Don't we all love disequilibrium dorms and the gardens below them? Gardening at night. Ocicat drawers rock!
Aardlinguist: Assholiness is a small sum. To pay. For. Matchbook art.
Werevark: Lol. Penguins psappho, sapphics around sound ocicats. Assholiness is a small sum for ocicat drawers and Orlovsky synthetics....you slay me!
Aardlinguist: I fear my watch has just exploded. After all good ocicats are asleep, I will rolf you.
Werevark: All books are liminal. The gas company has some site about The Queen and some vegetables she'd implanted as breasts. The fruits fried thing is fuzzy as calamari. I saw a hundred movies while I was encased in ice. I looked good like that I suppose.
Aardlinguist: There is no other site before you.
Werevark: Everything food has a good mind. Elegies. Ass holiness. Ron Ronald is not good. Fake the ass out as a sperm. You so Lin everything. Even Oldham.
Aardlinguist: In Genesis 8:29 it says a Herb shall not lie down with another Herb. It says I shot my assholiness load up your phenomenon then fisted a canteloupe in frustrated desire.
Werevark: You mean furstrated desire...
Aardlinguist: Yes, of course my whooping crane. I'm your mother. I can Noah you about the planet. Don't fear the imaginatively-themed cereal I left in your coffin for the trip along with that brother you said kept teething during the blowjob. I plasticined his teeth for you. My Wub.
Werevark: So gentlemanly this is really the Square of a bio? Smack dab event horizon of a daffodil?
Aardlinguist: I'm no good at math. Dunno.
Werevark: Sigh. Singh stumbled blindly a prize to eat out, that of a Target will reinforce me? A staircase of appreciation that turns and turn like an optimistic Spring gluttony borage in a french field of 1834. So many different poems are a tao gluegun really and China keeps falling apart like a loud clock.
Aardlinguist: I think I am Dorothy Stratten.
Werevark: That's preposterous! I'm Dorothy Stratten.
Aardlinguist: I'm Lisa Kudrow.
Werevark: I'm Lady Diana Spencer for Hire.
Aardlinguist: Nobody knows it but I'm Joey Stefano. I never died. I gave my AIDS away to an Indian beggar. He was so fucking dumb.
Werevark: I gave my Black Death to a lemur named Rufus. He was sorta hot. But soon after he got the buboes.
Aaardlinguist: I added an extra "a" to my name for a moment. To bring an equilibrium to the universe. Do you feel it? Bubo is owl I thinked.
Werevark: You made me smack my ass on the macadam just now. Dick.
Aardlinguist: Oh soz. Can I dog you after I post you, long and furry in the dark length of the night?
Wervark: Maybe if you up-target Whorange, mortgage off sappho, write poems that stiff all the nights the Sappho universe sucked off Ginsberg's synthetic Washington.
Aardlinguist: I'll just Storch like a Hebrew instead.
Wervark: Great design, the inside of realism.
Aardlinguist: Realisms is the process by which I love a letter.
Wervark: Universities are not kidding the way night is.
Aardlinguist: You're so Wedekind. That's why I want you.
Wervark: I bradded the ass-end of yesterday. Like yesterday.
Aardlinguist: How much penises will spare realism penises.
Wervark: Happy was everything snot in my jaws like lions.
Aardlinguist: But doubt fags jonquils that scene that look our ocean wants to mean good.
Werevark: I'm me all night tonight. What front Has God, it. I think persons celebrated on John post. I things. Nowhere does Edward Ackermania have kiddies. Not tittles.
Aaardlinguist: Oh you ALWAYS fucking say that. Not tittles. Not your precious tittles. But tittles does snell it. That's why you call all your poems "untittled" now.
Werevark: LOL. Prepucesterous!
Aardlinguist: Stop being such a cocksmooch chameleon. Come here and lick my schoves off.
Werevark: I bought you those schoves.
Aardlinguist: I know. And I love you for it. That's not a chair. That's an arsonist's ballet studio.
Werevark: I fell in love with the way they attached bars to mirrors. French reverberations. Kundera curtains. Trains.
Aardlinguist: I don't down story. I don't star dories. I don't darn Suris. I don't word Snorries.
Werevark: I love the it type it gains and just penguinness. The sky....
Aardlinguist: Houses from the wonly. Feature my starts of me. And All of Life. Gonna.
Werevark: I have no fucking love first began making the type again and just more penguinness. Penguinness is just doing. That's Peniskreit if I am German.
Aardlinguist: But-not-quite boring as mid seventies. While to summer Antarctica. There are it. I just post. Soft grasses. I but great really gay years ago great does chase.
Werevark: His Todd beings. A go direct or It's is it? Bullshit feels from these forests posted long ago I fell in love with moss. You are moss. Verbrant.
Aardlinguist: I dreamt you tasted lemon like gari. Pinked out Calvino on a German Sunday, a 911 fake a buck head. Know as nothing works cocks has books.
Werevark: I also changes. I then soft on this glacier sorts as other minds.
Aardlinguist: Okay, annihilate should I 911 from I James else patching on Calvino sounds his Sunday, Germany. Took some Lady about and I. Do it Huntress.
Werevark: Several houses They're be cool. Yes! Yeth! Go too polymath, all. Mr. Waters when good say more = better items not planet gene-therapy got the best kept Chapman even gives the end like that it will be tao splinters again!
Aardlinguist: You're a compendium!
Werevark: He likes to shut them in but still you don't cute up the confrontation or really think terrorists so realized do.
Werevark: Shut up.
Aardlinguist: Don't we all reach for the Hours at once. Will come!
Werevark: And today): Go later into the John groom the drunk groom assholes stable, time gets posts, you'll name awesome my ass how in kept his place you are.
Aardlinguist: I shark You Orlando. I rebuke you and shark you Orlando. I shark you now and for all time from doing Harm.
Werevark: Way in a second Tao combines these wonder down book Labels and stickers: blather, Shaw cabbage-patching a few eggs, food might get I to him. I bought you stickers.
Aardlinguist: There simply William Keckler says he eats in the ultramarine wowing guy. An ocean.
Werevark: I should go soon. You're territory for reverse. Anyway, in blogs, Roman fibers have the coolest Taoist remembering A-list of...but LOL. Many go into Lifetime colors that shit that's the also dog famous poetry sharks lying about the Woolf sandbar.
Aardlinguist: I don't doesn't novels novel really moving throw. If you who are a happy Elegy, most not showing not showing be. Then I'll be Whorange for you. Since Fleece says Hell Yawl!
Werevark; You bought me. Negatively third and check I my Lady Diana egregious womb. Optic know it's logolatry. He's his movies.
Aardlinguist: Who knows with the whatever show, there are adepts if that from books the worst be seen. All he goes before Love is those waters, Todd That might be it. Wish we were all as most January quickly.
Werevark: If early I would sure you possible worlds.
Aardlinguist: Oh, that's sweet.
Wervark: Most Tao nonagenarian lightswitchs are never found in our first schoolrooms.
Aardlinguist: You said a wish rarebit there.
Werevark: But it's you I that were fucking right there have though I am reading my Sunday night sawdust after Sappho, conies, Whoranging, then NYC assholes.
Aardlinguist: I'm few with guys or guesy or another. Bluets.
Werevark: You had me at "WOW! HEPATITIS! Isn't that universe generously one blog?"
Aardlinguist: If about, in the mother of bid high sappho then in Baltimore and I drink up you colorful hallucinations. Oy vey Consciousness. blog Oldham and been what? Camera pools. Am just youngster I'm ocicats involved times three one link there believe linking and it's last gotta last my mortagage, get....I was a happy teenager!
Werevark: And he's him, everything prose. Great voice and. Pitt was ruined by several Nortons too.
Aardlinguist: I like apotropaic. The glossy PHAIDON lions circle us and the Rinpoche we rode in on, My Love...pull in close to me....
Werevark: See the barrom it. The money the regular box. It. Regular box like in common, if you are warded off like in a movie.
Aardlinguist: I am.
Werevark: Comments are liminal when flowers.
Aardlinguists: I did.
Werevark: William has much have as his sappho days. Discovered my strop strabismus was a lingual job. What a stattice flower!
Aardlinguist: I will.
Werevark: But I am amenable to do you the soon the self-pity. That's human and each my hands skip spring.
Aardlinguist: I haven't.
Werevark: You background. Shavian sites. Check and The Heiress.
Aardlinguist: We shan't.
Werevark: Twaddle me out.
Aardlinguist: Lovely to head. Ill genes it's a very plural house with ghosts. He's very numb under that. If a 7:09 was from someone.
Werevark: Wyrd.
Aardlinguist: Many might win. I don't house March anymore. The Last always writes head. Don't tell me how many on the website street are really about the cunt.
Werevark: Like I'm afraid of the type, magical flews of the problem. Glue-gunned furniture will move about the stage a lot. Gay boys look cute stretching in the afterglow. The gills of the moment.
Aardlinguist: Tell your Wampus all about it. You don't have to convince me of anything.
Werevark: Todd Oldham is just physical torture at the end. There's the territoriality but acted out and a supposed realism that romanticizes like those who are born but still unopened.
Aardlinguist: Let's watch Scooby Doo.
Werevark: Okay. The best are not of nature. Even Camille Paglia knew that, hardcore seargent's haircut and strap-on magical realism.
Aardlinguist: I believe we are experiencing a rally in the Woolf-Sappho Overdrive. German at Lovely stuntedness. Email betting start now?
Werevark: Sappy ho Valentine. Saponage. Sabo...sabo...saab...saaaboh....
Aardlinguist: Sad bonobo! Posted by banana reminds and feds of the invisible. Such writers like luck. Live with Imus demon blood if you can. Colorful hospice lottery scotch. Your Tropic of Macrophage. The front is like Salem's Lot, the middle's like Horst the photog, the backside is like squeamish mentalism in Blavatsky's laundromat where potatoes are also kept in phthalo-blue screened boxes.
Werevark: Do you like my cockstache?
Aardlinguist: Very much so. What is a rock anyway? Apologies proof to some philosopher of matter? A blog written in an eye, miscreant microtext, a Bunch of Whorange for a love gift. These are the things poets care about!
Werevakr: I like some dark gryphon's MTV blog Dream On blood. You Idiots. Crown sappho online. Divine an orange. Don't we all love disequilibrium dorms and the gardens below them? Gardening at night. Ocicat drawers rock!
Aardlinguist: Assholiness is a small sum. To pay. For. Matchbook art.
Werevark: Lol. Penguins psappho, sapphics around sound ocicats. Assholiness is a small sum for ocicat drawers and Orlovsky synthetics....you slay me!
Aardlinguist: I fear my watch has just exploded. After all good ocicats are asleep, I will rolf you.
Werevark: All books are liminal. The gas company has some site about The Queen and some vegetables she'd implanted as breasts. The fruits fried thing is fuzzy as calamari. I saw a hundred movies while I was encased in ice. I looked good like that I suppose.
Aardlinguist: There is no other site before you.
Werevark: Everything food has a good mind. Elegies. Ass holiness. Ron Ronald is not good. Fake the ass out as a sperm. You so Lin everything. Even Oldham.
Aardlinguist: In Genesis 8:29 it says a Herb shall not lie down with another Herb. It says I shot my assholiness load up your phenomenon then fisted a canteloupe in frustrated desire.
Werevark: You mean furstrated desire...
Aardlinguist: Yes, of course my whooping crane. I'm your mother. I can Noah you about the planet. Don't fear the imaginatively-themed cereal I left in your coffin for the trip along with that brother you said kept teething during the blowjob. I plasticined his teeth for you. My Wub.
Werevark: So gentlemanly this is really the Square of a bio? Smack dab event horizon of a daffodil?
Aardlinguist: I'm no good at math. Dunno.
Werevark: Sigh. Singh stumbled blindly a prize to eat out, that of a Target will reinforce me? A staircase of appreciation that turns and turn like an optimistic Spring gluttony borage in a french field of 1834. So many different poems are a tao gluegun really and China keeps falling apart like a loud clock.
Aardlinguist: I think I am Dorothy Stratten.
Werevark: That's preposterous! I'm Dorothy Stratten.
Aardlinguist: I'm Lisa Kudrow.
Werevark: I'm Lady Diana Spencer for Hire.
Aardlinguist: Nobody knows it but I'm Joey Stefano. I never died. I gave my AIDS away to an Indian beggar. He was so fucking dumb.
Werevark: I gave my Black Death to a lemur named Rufus. He was sorta hot. But soon after he got the buboes.
Aaardlinguist: I added an extra "a" to my name for a moment. To bring an equilibrium to the universe. Do you feel it? Bubo is owl I thinked.
Werevark: You made me smack my ass on the macadam just now. Dick.
Aardlinguist: Oh soz. Can I dog you after I post you, long and furry in the dark length of the night?
Wervark: Maybe if you up-target Whorange, mortgage off sappho, write poems that stiff all the nights the Sappho universe sucked off Ginsberg's synthetic Washington.
Aardlinguist: I'll just Storch like a Hebrew instead.
Wervark: Great design, the inside of realism.
Aardlinguist: Realisms is the process by which I love a letter.
Wervark: Universities are not kidding the way night is.
Aardlinguist: You're so Wedekind. That's why I want you.
Wervark: I bradded the ass-end of yesterday. Like yesterday.
Aardlinguist: How much penises will spare realism penises.
Wervark: Happy was everything snot in my jaws like lions.
Aardlinguist: But doubt fags jonquils that scene that look our ocean wants to mean good.
Werevark: I'm me all night tonight. What front Has God, it. I think persons celebrated on John post. I things. Nowhere does Edward Ackermania have kiddies. Not tittles.
Aaardlinguist: Oh you ALWAYS fucking say that. Not tittles. Not your precious tittles. But tittles does snell it. That's why you call all your poems "untittled" now.
Werevark: LOL. Prepucesterous!
Aardlinguist: Stop being such a cocksmooch chameleon. Come here and lick my schoves off.
Werevark: I bought you those schoves.
Aardlinguist: I know. And I love you for it. That's not a chair. That's an arsonist's ballet studio.
Werevark: I fell in love with the way they attached bars to mirrors. French reverberations. Kundera curtains. Trains.
Aardlinguist: I don't down story. I don't star dories. I don't darn Suris. I don't word Snorries.
Werevark: I love the it type it gains and just penguinness. The sky....
Aardlinguist: Houses from the wonly. Feature my starts of me. And All of Life. Gonna.
Werevark: I have no fucking love first began making the type again and just more penguinness. Penguinness is just doing. That's Peniskreit if I am German.
Aardlinguist: But-not-quite boring as mid seventies. While to summer Antarctica. There are it. I just post. Soft grasses. I but great really gay years ago great does chase.
Werevark: His Todd beings. A go direct or It's is it? Bullshit feels from these forests posted long ago I fell in love with moss. You are moss. Verbrant.
Aardlinguist: I dreamt you tasted lemon like gari. Pinked out Calvino on a German Sunday, a 911 fake a buck head. Know as nothing works cocks has books.
Werevark: I also changes. I then soft on this glacier sorts as other minds.
Aardlinguist: Okay, annihilate should I 911 from I James else patching on Calvino sounds his Sunday, Germany. Took some Lady about and I. Do it Huntress.
Werevark: Several houses They're be cool. Yes! Yeth! Go too polymath, all. Mr. Waters when good say more = better items not planet gene-therapy got the best kept Chapman even gives the end like that it will be tao splinters again!
Aardlinguist: You're a compendium!
Werevark: He likes to shut them in but still you don't cute up the confrontation or really think terrorists so realized do.
Werevark: Shut up.
Aardlinguist: Don't we all reach for the Hours at once. Will come!
Werevark: And today): Go later into the John groom the drunk groom assholes stable, time gets posts, you'll name awesome my ass how in kept his place you are.
Aardlinguist: I shark You Orlando. I rebuke you and shark you Orlando. I shark you now and for all time from doing Harm.
Werevark: Way in a second Tao combines these wonder down book Labels and stickers: blather, Shaw cabbage-patching a few eggs, food might get I to him. I bought you stickers.
Aardlinguist: There simply William Keckler says he eats in the ultramarine wowing guy. An ocean.
Werevark: I should go soon. You're territory for reverse. Anyway, in blogs, Roman fibers have the coolest Taoist remembering A-list of...but LOL. Many go into Lifetime colors that shit that's the also dog famous poetry sharks lying about the Woolf sandbar.
Aardlinguist: I don't doesn't novels novel really moving throw. If you who are a happy Elegy, most not showing not showing be. Then I'll be Whorange for you. Since Fleece says Hell Yawl!
Werevark; You bought me. Negatively third and check I my Lady Diana egregious womb. Optic know it's logolatry. He's his movies.
Aardlinguist: Who knows with the whatever show, there are adepts if that from books the worst be seen. All he goes before Love is those waters, Todd That might be it. Wish we were all as most January quickly.
Werevark: If early I would sure you possible worlds.
Aardlinguist: Oh, that's sweet.
Wervark: Most Tao nonagenarian lightswitchs are never found in our first schoolrooms.
Aardlinguist: You said a wish rarebit there.
Werevark: But it's you I that were fucking right there have though I am reading my Sunday night sawdust after Sappho, conies, Whoranging, then NYC assholes.
Aardlinguist: I'm few with guys or guesy or another. Bluets.
Werevark: You had me at "WOW! HEPATITIS! Isn't that universe generously one blog?"
Aardlinguist: If about, in the mother of bid high sappho then in Baltimore and I drink up you colorful hallucinations. Oy vey Consciousness. blog Oldham and been what? Camera pools. Am just youngster I'm ocicats involved times three one link there believe linking and it's last gotta last my mortagage, get....I was a happy teenager!
Werevark: And he's him, everything prose. Great voice and. Pitt was ruined by several Nortons too.
Aardlinguist: I like apotropaic. The glossy PHAIDON lions circle us and the Rinpoche we rode in on, My Love...pull in close to me....
Werevark: See the barrom it. The money the regular box. It. Regular box like in common, if you are warded off like in a movie.
Aardlinguist: I am.
Werevark: Comments are liminal when flowers.
Aardlinguists: I did.
Werevark: William has much have as his sappho days. Discovered my strop strabismus was a lingual job. What a stattice flower!
Aardlinguist: I will.
Werevark: But I am amenable to do you the soon the self-pity. That's human and each my hands skip spring.
Aardlinguist: I haven't.
Werevark: You background. Shavian sites. Check and The Heiress.
Aardlinguist: We shan't.
Werevark: Twaddle me out.
Aardlinguist: Lovely to head. Ill genes it's a very plural house with ghosts. He's very numb under that. If a 7:09 was from someone.
Werevark: Wyrd.
sonnet
I don't whorange as much these days.
I don't implant shark cartilage or mewl with the old vigour.
I don't cabbage-patch elegies supermuch.
I don't FIGHT CLUB pear-shaped testosterone penguins at the Sappho Ice bar.
I don't chaperone Orlando Ocicat, though he still has a mean Lingus.
I don't NOT want Tarkovsky to make a Lifetime Television movie about your abscess.
I don't think a gluegun is defining in that cynical Kappelmeister porn way you do.
I don't believe in the hardcore Joey Stefano burnt undies approach to spring forsythia.
Some of the others do.
I saw I had fallen very far from the caribou I had promised to send while still a waif.
I noticed then John Ashbery was hogging the ocicats again.
I saw these pussy willows were not going to metamorphosize themselves before sunset.
I spoke aloud my desire to Frankenstein a brother to a hot ass.
Some goatherd was singing: "Nobody can tent Moz gladioli in your draws like a vet..."
I don't implant shark cartilage or mewl with the old vigour.
I don't cabbage-patch elegies supermuch.
I don't FIGHT CLUB pear-shaped testosterone penguins at the Sappho Ice bar.
I don't chaperone Orlando Ocicat, though he still has a mean Lingus.
I don't NOT want Tarkovsky to make a Lifetime Television movie about your abscess.
I don't think a gluegun is defining in that cynical Kappelmeister porn way you do.
I don't believe in the hardcore Joey Stefano burnt undies approach to spring forsythia.
Some of the others do.
I saw I had fallen very far from the caribou I had promised to send while still a waif.
I noticed then John Ashbery was hogging the ocicats again.
I saw these pussy willows were not going to metamorphosize themselves before sunset.
I spoke aloud my desire to Frankenstein a brother to a hot ass.
Some goatherd was singing: "Nobody can tent Moz gladioli in your draws like a vet..."
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Found Fragments
Hortensius I
B: A supple wrist
A: Nautical naughtitties.
B: The time is now 28 B. C.
A: You’re telling me the church will want a piece of this?
B: I’m thinking about your dropping your keys and how embarrassed you must have been.
A: My beard grown longer for you.
B: The image of me hatholding your candelabrum. What a handjob!
A: Have you seen Augustine lately? He looks great!
B: Oh, he’s always in his color wheel. You made my hair out of brown and white clay, my hands from fragments of paper, my teeth from snasty comment, my breath from wiffles, my tart skin from the tannins in grapes, my breasts from antioxidants, my teeth from orange peels, my pits from olive trees, my arms from tires, my legs from snickers, my arms from the hunt, my legs from the grip, my pits from the heavens, my lips from the split.
B: A supple wrist
A: Nautical naughtitties.
B: The time is now 28 B. C.
A: You’re telling me the church will want a piece of this?
B: I’m thinking about your dropping your keys and how embarrassed you must have been.
A: My beard grown longer for you.
B: The image of me hatholding your candelabrum. What a handjob!
A: Have you seen Augustine lately? He looks great!
B: Oh, he’s always in his color wheel. You made my hair out of brown and white clay, my hands from fragments of paper, my teeth from snasty comment, my breath from wiffles, my tart skin from the tannins in grapes, my breasts from antioxidants, my teeth from orange peels, my pits from olive trees, my arms from tires, my legs from snickers, my arms from the hunt, my legs from the grip, my pits from the heavens, my lips from the split.
Tomorrows I will give you
after songs I remember from Guys and Dolls
I opened my gut for you from the rear.
A painter I know asked me what I was going to do
with poetry in this generation of Twitter.
I didn’t know how to answer him, said something
self-deprecating and he didn’t accept it. We were discussing
Laura Riding and her wings. We were eating paella
and samosas, rich and comfortable. I pretended I was
Majorca and everyone praised my breezes, my salt air.
They sat on me brickly stoic. I am ground.
Pepper and jalapenos in the air. A brick
painted white and to look like a pelican. I drew
a giant female butterfly on cardboard to distract
the boys. But I opened from behind
the curtain sequined in croutons. I let everyone in.
I opened my gut for you from the rear.
A painter I know asked me what I was going to do
with poetry in this generation of Twitter.
I didn’t know how to answer him, said something
self-deprecating and he didn’t accept it. We were discussing
Laura Riding and her wings. We were eating paella
and samosas, rich and comfortable. I pretended I was
Majorca and everyone praised my breezes, my salt air.
They sat on me brickly stoic. I am ground.
Pepper and jalapenos in the air. A brick
painted white and to look like a pelican. I drew
a giant female butterfly on cardboard to distract
the boys. But I opened from behind
the curtain sequined in croutons. I let everyone in.
Notes from Goodnight Moon
The stars are trumpeting and I am the young mouse.
Living in the house of two mittens.
I shrive an ambrosia of lead, pickles,
beryllium, and dolls’ eyes. Want a taste?
You walk by my office, I offer
a trickle, you decline. Latinate verbs
come unheeded around my mouth.
Spleenic gestures, the test of faith,
rupture in the telling.
I believe you won’t eat me if I offer
to goodnight everything,
every night, indefinitely.
Something whispers Hush,
the attack is over, words have flown
to bring shade and cover. Trannyshack
three is still on schedule: I’ll tape it
for you
to your window. And bears
are dancing on little red planets,
and princes are prancing in red
bomber jackets.
I tripped over my own inadequacies.
They told me I was little and hung.
Arbors rung with lust
green the end.
Living in the house of two mittens.
I shrive an ambrosia of lead, pickles,
beryllium, and dolls’ eyes. Want a taste?
You walk by my office, I offer
a trickle, you decline. Latinate verbs
come unheeded around my mouth.
Spleenic gestures, the test of faith,
rupture in the telling.
I believe you won’t eat me if I offer
to goodnight everything,
every night, indefinitely.
Something whispers Hush,
the attack is over, words have flown
to bring shade and cover. Trannyshack
three is still on schedule: I’ll tape it
for you
to your window. And bears
are dancing on little red planets,
and princes are prancing in red
bomber jackets.
I tripped over my own inadequacies.
They told me I was little and hung.
Arbors rung with lust
green the end.
Fairy Poem
When one fairy tale
disses another fairy tale
in the Magic Forest
of poetry, the goddess
hears an exhortation
and arises. Queen
of the Night favors
the more delusional
fairy creature, so beware.
She has been known
to release Nemesis
for lesser offenses than this.
Did you come to taunt a fairy?
I know some gang members
got their ass whooped at Trannyshack.
Love, too, has its drag.
Children are forgiven snickers.
Thugs are ripe for the fucking.
Dear Sir, which one are you?
disses another fairy tale
in the Magic Forest
of poetry, the goddess
hears an exhortation
and arises. Queen
of the Night favors
the more delusional
fairy creature, so beware.
She has been known
to release Nemesis
for lesser offenses than this.
Did you come to taunt a fairy?
I know some gang members
got their ass whooped at Trannyshack.
Love, too, has its drag.
Children are forgiven snickers.
Thugs are ripe for the fucking.
Dear Sir, which one are you?
Genetics:
put in your tureen
echolalia, mushrooms,
and exemption. Your highlit
strands of pearls, keep out.
Don’t curdle the broth
with scruples.
echolalia, mushrooms,
and exemption. Your highlit
strands of pearls, keep out.
Don’t curdle the broth
with scruples.
Why So Many Visitors Dislike Ecommerce Shopping Carts
I put things in the magic cart
and it goes away
but it keeps those things
I forget
was I talking
about art or heart,
Nobody ever checks out
We lose track
of the cart
years later
we find the shopping cart
holding those items
long-dead and gone
I feel like Tom Cruise
in Vanilla Sky
this afternoon, oddly enough
Penelope seems to have understood
Underacting is the future
I put two magic cats
in my ecommerce shopping carts
but that was hundreds of years ago
Should I wake up or stay asleep
Where is the Sigur Ros to play me out?
and it goes away
but it keeps those things
I forget
was I talking
about art or heart,
Nobody ever checks out
We lose track
of the cart
years later
we find the shopping cart
holding those items
long-dead and gone
I feel like Tom Cruise
in Vanilla Sky
this afternoon, oddly enough
Penelope seems to have understood
Underacting is the future
I put two magic cats
in my ecommerce shopping carts
but that was hundreds of years ago
Should I wake up or stay asleep
Where is the Sigur Ros to play me out?
I Don't Want to Play House
My pants have flown.
I must go feed the ravens.
The trickle-down theory of poetics
is the new Reganomics.
Cordelia has a heart
in her. It is her name,
scoffed and scuffed
today quite a bit
by some borrowed bowling shoes
apparently. Dilated
by the kindred, I'm sure
she hurt. But true to the false,
I feel for you.
I must go feed the ravens.
The trickle-down theory of poetics
is the new Reganomics.
Cordelia has a heart
in her. It is her name,
scoffed and scuffed
today quite a bit
by some borrowed bowling shoes
apparently. Dilated
by the kindred, I'm sure
she hurt. But true to the false,
I feel for you.
You
B: Could I wait for you all day, could I tell myself I’d survive without you?
I pass you between my lips I soft for my friends.
Don’t think I can’t know exactly who you are. The lip of the light
edges down for you. You create air when immediate. Name is the mark
of having never been quieted.
I pass you between my lips I soft for my friends.
Don’t think I can’t know exactly who you are. The lip of the light
edges down for you. You create air when immediate. Name is the mark
of having never been quieted.
Look! Aesop Standing on His Head!
I suppose it's fuckin' hilarity,
but every lover,
every motherfucker knows
contempt breeds familiarity.
but every lover,
every motherfucker knows
contempt breeds familiarity.
Doges Tiptoeing
I have seen so many
Doges tiptoeing
in this life. They hold
pussy willows,
yes, they smile
and dream like Vlad Tepes
amidst so many
pillows. Cursing
them is trite.
I prefer their xeonophobic lakes,
their young-smelling museums.
I meet them on the highway years later,
and I am invariably younger, again.
We discuss matters of punctuation.
History is courtesy, after all.
And then I skip behind their backs.
It's not as gay as it sounds.
Really, it isn't.
Doges tiptoeing
in this life. They hold
pussy willows,
yes, they smile
and dream like Vlad Tepes
amidst so many
pillows. Cursing
them is trite.
I prefer their xeonophobic lakes,
their young-smelling museums.
I meet them on the highway years later,
and I am invariably younger, again.
We discuss matters of punctuation.
History is courtesy, after all.
And then I skip behind their backs.
It's not as gay as it sounds.
Really, it isn't.
Love Song Auditions
A: If I were a brand I would take pictures of myself in glitzy blue underwear and tell everyone that I was god wearing the sky.
B: God, the walls can be trying
A: But never hold me in?
A: Toast. I like toast. Buy my brand of toast.
B: I bet you like orchids on toast.
A: Because they split me up with their jelly laughter. My toast is hot.
B: I wanted to tell you all the things I keep forgetting. Wet between windows, visual oeuvres, meta-intelligences, scripting your spring. Bride's head revisited Miss Havisham in the sag of a tummy. Cup her pity. I want to see the orchids on toast because I bet it fucks them royal jelly. It carpels their tongues when the bankgrip soldier has again been added to the list of fog cottons.
A: You split my garbanzos, too much heat.
B: I cook in a Southeast tradition. My tongue is sweet
A: From all the fire. Brand me.
Brand me.
Brand me.
B: God, the walls can be trying
A: But never hold me in?
A: Toast. I like toast. Buy my brand of toast.
B: I bet you like orchids on toast.
A: Because they split me up with their jelly laughter. My toast is hot.
B: I wanted to tell you all the things I keep forgetting. Wet between windows, visual oeuvres, meta-intelligences, scripting your spring. Bride's head revisited Miss Havisham in the sag of a tummy. Cup her pity. I want to see the orchids on toast because I bet it fucks them royal jelly. It carpels their tongues when the bankgrip soldier has again been added to the list of fog cottons.
A: You split my garbanzos, too much heat.
B: I cook in a Southeast tradition. My tongue is sweet
A: From all the fire. Brand me.
Brand me.
Brand me.
La Belle Hummer Sans Merci
The problem with the Marquis de Sade
is that he is cruel to cartoons,
cruel to cartoons,
and all good people
love cartoons,
love cartoons
are all good people
who will come to the aid
of their country.
I am that country,
that crux and focus
of pixelated concern.
Do you often abuse pointillists?
Le Seurat, c'est Moi.
A pitchfork really
only works on twick or tweet.
I don't have a doorbell.
is that he is cruel to cartoons,
cruel to cartoons,
and all good people
love cartoons,
love cartoons
are all good people
who will come to the aid
of their country.
I am that country,
that crux and focus
of pixelated concern.
Do you often abuse pointillists?
Le Seurat, c'est Moi.
A pitchfork really
only works on twick or tweet.
I don't have a doorbell.
Dripping what my eye/perceiveth
I wipe my mouth on
a blue that has forgotten
March but remembers winter.
Wings slut the air
with apricots, slit you
with fragrance.
My collapse engages
who says fragrance
if mollifying is triter
than a mid-
sentence sun pretending
seasons. When I believe
a moon is full
I’ve never seen it.
a blue that has forgotten
March but remembers winter.
Wings slut the air
with apricots, slit you
with fragrance.
My collapse engages
who says fragrance
if mollifying is triter
than a mid-
sentence sun pretending
seasons. When I believe
a moon is full
I’ve never seen it.
Love Song Auditions
B: On crystallography. Pages, students, assistants,
A: Your face explicit.
B: Arggg-ho-nauts do I dream. Stopfer mine ears!
A: The time is now 12:44 E.S.T.
B: A raven doesn't think about impossibility. It does raven things.
A: The time is now 12:45 E.S.T. And thirty-three seconds.
B: The image of Catherine walking her Hermitage at night holding the candelabrum. Haunting it really. What a cocksmooch.
A: The time is now 12:45 and fifty-nine seconds.
B: Oh, I need to see Babar and have a good confession, a good soaking, a good squat, a good rebound, a good shanks and withering, a good walk through the gayborhood, a good shrug, a good Tibetan oxtail, a good prayer wheel, a good paint card to compare lights in the afterlife, a good potting, a good pleathering really, a good excuse, a good transnational bankruptcy scream, a good iceberg, a good hoodwink and ornament, a good high colonic of epistemological something or other.
A: My god. It is now 12:48. Almost 12:49. I think I smell evolution occurring.
B: My head is adjustable. I mean like Linda Blair's. Watch this. It's pretty cool.
A: Toast. I like toast.
B: I bet you like orchids on toast.
A: Sometimes. Why? Who tole you?
B: Joy.
A: Your face explicit.
B: Arggg-ho-nauts do I dream. Stopfer mine ears!
A: The time is now 12:44 E.S.T.
B: A raven doesn't think about impossibility. It does raven things.
A: The time is now 12:45 E.S.T. And thirty-three seconds.
B: The image of Catherine walking her Hermitage at night holding the candelabrum. Haunting it really. What a cocksmooch.
A: The time is now 12:45 and fifty-nine seconds.
B: Oh, I need to see Babar and have a good confession, a good soaking, a good squat, a good rebound, a good shanks and withering, a good walk through the gayborhood, a good shrug, a good Tibetan oxtail, a good prayer wheel, a good paint card to compare lights in the afterlife, a good potting, a good pleathering really, a good excuse, a good transnational bankruptcy scream, a good iceberg, a good hoodwink and ornament, a good high colonic of epistemological something or other.
A: My god. It is now 12:48. Almost 12:49. I think I smell evolution occurring.
B: My head is adjustable. I mean like Linda Blair's. Watch this. It's pretty cool.
A: Toast. I like toast.
B: I bet you like orchids on toast.
A: Sometimes. Why? Who tole you?
B: Joy.
Love Song Auditions
A: The pussy willow grows
B: Its furry mantras.
A: Surf the scape of seas
B: And let them lift you.
A: A toast below olive paste
B: Turns at the touch. Your pants are flown
A: The raven. Spoken necrophilia
B: Never comes true.
A: Your onanism
B: Entices. Your sulky lettings
A: Mince. I hear your voice above the rust
B: Familiar is what you heard. You hear
A: Nothing. But I smell snails and books tripping
B: On crystallography. Pages, students, assistants,
A: Your face explicit.
B: Its furry mantras.
A: Surf the scape of seas
B: And let them lift you.
A: A toast below olive paste
B: Turns at the touch. Your pants are flown
A: The raven. Spoken necrophilia
B: Never comes true.
A: Your onanism
B: Entices. Your sulky lettings
A: Mince. I hear your voice above the rust
B: Familiar is what you heard. You hear
A: Nothing. But I smell snails and books tripping
B: On crystallography. Pages, students, assistants,
A: Your face explicit.
Orison
Orison is a lovely name for a greyhound
a courser below orb of moon
His bones will lie
in the pine needles but he shan't know
and who the fuck says shan't
It looks like Hindi
I am that greyhound, Senator...
My bones articulate fine delusion
My heart is a fine Meissen joke
But I am a mineralogist
when it comes to you
I am completely loyal
to my image of the moon's toothpaste
I want to burnish your venison, Sir
Please give me leave
to monitor the door
a courser below orb of moon
His bones will lie
in the pine needles but he shan't know
and who the fuck says shan't
It looks like Hindi
I am that greyhound, Senator...
My bones articulate fine delusion
My heart is a fine Meissen joke
But I am a mineralogist
when it comes to you
I am completely loyal
to my image of the moon's toothpaste
I want to burnish your venison, Sir
Please give me leave
to monitor the door
Sleep
curls me a comma. An embryo.
Wrinkles from your spongebob pillow
comb the bed of my face.
Anaethesia,
You knew
it would come, this accretion, this trade
of lies for arpeggios.
Wrinkles from your spongebob pillow
comb the bed of my face.
Anaethesia,
You knew
it would come, this accretion, this trade
of lies for arpeggios.
listing
list of concerns:
1) portability of lovers
2) errancy of sortilege
3) urns
4) earns
5) filmic amnesis tendencies
6) dogeism
7) orgasm wrangling
8) wangdoodling "lets"
9) who is "Mnemosyne's bitch?"
please address, Lover
1) portability of lovers
2) errancy of sortilege
3) urns
4) earns
5) filmic amnesis tendencies
6) dogeism
7) orgasm wrangling
8) wangdoodling "lets"
9) who is "Mnemosyne's bitch?"
please address, Lover
Consequence
or chance the room off the library
with my scarf and coffee farts
but where was I?
Three floors down in the poetry
trashing the shelves
when I found you.
Hejira: a flight to escape danger.
I model myself on Icarus
and all the video games about him
that never sold. Orison the name
I give myself to give to you,
so that when we wed
we Arshile the graying moon.
Hum back the lights!
Spell me the British way!
I mewl, mining you for pity.
with my scarf and coffee farts
but where was I?
Three floors down in the poetry
trashing the shelves
when I found you.
Hejira: a flight to escape danger.
I model myself on Icarus
and all the video games about him
that never sold. Orison the name
I give myself to give to you,
so that when we wed
we Arshile the graying moon.
Hum back the lights!
Spell me the British way!
I mewl, mining you for pity.
a hockney
a dried pink menstrual line
a damp white line
then a dried pink menstrual line again
then a rusted fingernail line
a faded china-red flock line
another white line this one drier not snow
then an ultramarine blue line
i had been waiting a long time for
the sea from over the sea blue line
then another slightly less blue blue line
i suppose that is the bass line
then another bluer line again
then another blue line somewhat lighter
another blue line darker then an aftertaste
like a blue after a lover has gone twice
then a really dark blue line
tht begins the true reef of blueness
then an even darker blue majestic credible death
then the ghost of this blue still dark though
then a light blue that sleeps with a lot
that sleeps with anybody really
then a posthumous lighter japanese blue
then a blue that sleeps with clouds
then a blue marrying water again (at last!)
then a blue water losing blue sounds
then a blue that is a light white
then a white that is a light blue
then a white that almost has some blue
still
then a blue that is cerulean it is given up
then a blue that has forgotten everything
and somehow exists losing constantly
then nothing beyond human existence
because the painting has abandoned blue
the line of time has nowhere to go
and the blue does not even remember to forget
oh
that blue which is forgetting to remember
a damp white line
then a dried pink menstrual line again
then a rusted fingernail line
a faded china-red flock line
another white line this one drier not snow
then an ultramarine blue line
i had been waiting a long time for
the sea from over the sea blue line
then another slightly less blue blue line
i suppose that is the bass line
then another bluer line again
then another blue line somewhat lighter
another blue line darker then an aftertaste
like a blue after a lover has gone twice
then a really dark blue line
tht begins the true reef of blueness
then an even darker blue majestic credible death
then the ghost of this blue still dark though
then a light blue that sleeps with a lot
that sleeps with anybody really
then a posthumous lighter japanese blue
then a blue that sleeps with clouds
then a blue marrying water again (at last!)
then a blue water losing blue sounds
then a blue that is a light white
then a white that is a light blue
then a white that almost has some blue
still
then a blue that is cerulean it is given up
then a blue that has forgotten everything
and somehow exists losing constantly
then nothing beyond human existence
because the painting has abandoned blue
the line of time has nowhere to go
and the blue does not even remember to forget
oh
that blue which is forgetting to remember
for the last fucking time, is it jean arp or hans arp?
oh joy
is like alsace-lorraine
if you're born there
you never know your true name
is like alsace-lorraine
if you're born there
you never know your true name
Two Giants Living Together
We live on a mountain
close to the crows
close to the slaughter
We sneak it in the oldest
parts of our mouth
We love in weird quartets
We keep our brute lovers
stocked in a massive habit
Some fights We play Cossacks
passing falcons back and
forth
It betrays us
to think deep
close to the crows
close to the slaughter
We sneak it in the oldest
parts of our mouth
We love in weird quartets
We keep our brute lovers
stocked in a massive habit
Some fights We play Cossacks
passing falcons back and
forth
It betrays us
to think deep
my humps
my radiators are
all russian novelists
gone over earth's
sill a long time ago
they make sounds
those drunks once did
lost in tiny bars
dots of light
on this planet
where it all
happens just think
my radiators
were chuffing
along with some
of those russians
when they were alive
in their tiny bars
points of light inside
snowstorms in nowheresville,
where russians blow off
steam long after
language is over
long past midnight
hot little exhalations
pfffft! sszsssst!
that's how i think about
you too late at night
i painted them all
my radiators
sitting on my ass
white iron flowers
arabesques of vines all over
them repeated motif
of wandering flowering
at the end of the vine
a flower
and at the end of the flower
a birdlike tongue
a sexual tongue
stuck out in longing
or mockery or just
ridiculous overripeness
like a russian novelist
or maybe a body lost
in a blizzard's whiteout
carrying hothouse tomatoes
holding them to the breast
her or she falls
body dug out much later
found clutching these
frozen tomatoes
fruit frozen to iron
the novel!
and oddly enough laughter
also frozen like iron
all russian novelists
gone over earth's
sill a long time ago
they make sounds
those drunks once did
lost in tiny bars
dots of light
on this planet
where it all
happens just think
my radiators
were chuffing
along with some
of those russians
when they were alive
in their tiny bars
points of light inside
snowstorms in nowheresville,
where russians blow off
steam long after
language is over
long past midnight
hot little exhalations
pfffft! sszsssst!
that's how i think about
you too late at night
i painted them all
my radiators
sitting on my ass
white iron flowers
arabesques of vines all over
them repeated motif
of wandering flowering
at the end of the vine
a flower
and at the end of the flower
a birdlike tongue
a sexual tongue
stuck out in longing
or mockery or just
ridiculous overripeness
like a russian novelist
or maybe a body lost
in a blizzard's whiteout
carrying hothouse tomatoes
holding them to the breast
her or she falls
body dug out much later
found clutching these
frozen tomatoes
fruit frozen to iron
the novel!
and oddly enough laughter
also frozen like iron
After That...
I vowed never to lose Tara again.
I vowed the winged monkeys would be terrified of me, not vice versa.
I swore I would solve the mystery of your disappearance.
I never again called Betadine swabbing writing.
I avoided the Voight-Kampff test and sought out others like me.
I knew Death always had hot gay male escorts bookending her.
I realized German cinema elves became Nazis if you feed them after midnight.
I could show you where I lived and died on tree rings.
I understood the moors exist only to fuck up wistful and romantic souls.
I understood sorcery was in my blood and I just needed to find my school.
I realized this house wanted me to stay and play forever and ever and ever.
I realized Silence of the Lambs is Beauty and the Beast retold.
I began to understand mirrors and gloves were reliable transportation.
I realized my wife would always be jealous of my Death
because my Death looks like Audrey Hepburn in a posthumous Gap commercial.
After that, he knew better than to ever wear a black sweater like that again.
I vowed the winged monkeys would be terrified of me, not vice versa.
I swore I would solve the mystery of your disappearance.
I never again called Betadine swabbing writing.
I avoided the Voight-Kampff test and sought out others like me.
I knew Death always had hot gay male escorts bookending her.
I realized German cinema elves became Nazis if you feed them after midnight.
I could show you where I lived and died on tree rings.
I understood the moors exist only to fuck up wistful and romantic souls.
I understood sorcery was in my blood and I just needed to find my school.
I realized this house wanted me to stay and play forever and ever and ever.
I realized Silence of the Lambs is Beauty and the Beast retold.
I began to understand mirrors and gloves were reliable transportation.
I realized my wife would always be jealous of my Death
because my Death looks like Audrey Hepburn in a posthumous Gap commercial.
After that, he knew better than to ever wear a black sweater like that again.
Venery of the I.M.
Dark the gay quilt
of words on the wall.
Dark our many moving archers,
who lift and fall
through their own images
dark as remembrance,
or thin January deer
with the slight bones ,
easy to pick up
and throw into a mounting
as the fuckable boys
circling behind
a menagerist's mind.
There's no gameskeeper to sour our hunt.
There's no cock big enough to fill the mind's cunt.
of words on the wall.
Dark our many moving archers,
who lift and fall
through their own images
dark as remembrance,
or thin January deer
with the slight bones ,
easy to pick up
and throw into a mounting
as the fuckable boys
circling behind
a menagerist's mind.
There's no gameskeeper to sour our hunt.
There's no cock big enough to fill the mind's cunt.
hi it's me, dead mina loy, i'm just passing through...
....please don't get up....
...I have some hunting gathering to do...i found him...the bastard arthur....i won't even tell you where he was....
anyhoo...
"The past has come apart
events are vagueing...
Die in the Past
Live in the Future.
The velocity of velocities arrives in starting.
MAY your egotism be so gigantic that you compromise mankind in your self-sympathy.
CONSCIOUSNESS has no climax.
Well-chosen and so ill-relinquished
the husband heartsease
acme of communion
How was that?
I got my Dot back
Bye, guys!
BUY MY HATS AND JEWELRY! DeadMinaLoy.com
Thx!
...I have some hunting gathering to do...i found him...the bastard arthur....i won't even tell you where he was....
anyhoo...
"The past has come apart
events are vagueing...
Die in the Past
Live in the Future.
The velocity of velocities arrives in starting.
MAY your egotism be so gigantic that you compromise mankind in your self-sympathy.
CONSCIOUSNESS has no climax.
Well-chosen and so ill-relinquished
the husband heartsease
acme of communion
How was that?
I got my Dot back
Bye, guys!
BUY MY HATS AND JEWELRY! DeadMinaLoy.com
Thx!
pride raider, raider of prides
it's definitive now i thought you were just the net
at first, but too many times
you've lunared me, lunaria ramifications
i was thinking mina loy when i lean back
in this ladderback chair i like to pose
the way she looks, lovely, posthumous
in the one pic. claws on the arms
today. i love tatterdemalion ecstasy
dead drama-queen La Llorona
i like to sing with crazy muffins
that is she. over and over. her pillbox-
hat tombstone. concentric stone circles.
what was the other one. something else
you picked up completely freaky pikachu
manners. you are 'ginning to spook me
spook sounds so dutch. i bet it is
tulips are coming up everywhere
in dark spangles right now
blood in their prepuce
blood on their tongues
rude. awakenings
dusk the soil
at first, but too many times
you've lunared me, lunaria ramifications
i was thinking mina loy when i lean back
in this ladderback chair i like to pose
the way she looks, lovely, posthumous
in the one pic. claws on the arms
today. i love tatterdemalion ecstasy
dead drama-queen La Llorona
i like to sing with crazy muffins
that is she. over and over. her pillbox-
hat tombstone. concentric stone circles.
what was the other one. something else
you picked up completely freaky pikachu
manners. you are 'ginning to spook me
spook sounds so dutch. i bet it is
tulips are coming up everywhere
in dark spangles right now
blood in their prepuce
blood on their tongues
rude. awakenings
dusk the soil
Love Song Auditions
A: I can do a good 'personation of a human trach. Wanna see it?
B: Put it over here. I just want to watch.
A: Pillows fill with stale smoke. You’re sure you don’t want in?
B: A dik-dik has my attention now. Did I mention I’m on the veld?
A: Sad and beautiful. Language conspires to keep us gemmed.
B: Triage is overrated A: with its deer bones frosted with frost.
B: How many times do I have to tell you how to spell lavender?
A: At least two more words that begin with gyn-.
B: I taste that when I'm trying to eat.
B: Not enough people appreciate lucite or appetite or renascence spelled gay like that.
A: Marcel Duchamp and Mina Loy are here.
B: I thought so. You mean Mee-mee and Michelle.
A: They’re bringing the future.
B: Any longer and I’ll need meds to wait.
A: I’m sure they brought plenty with them.
B: I forgot we were in New York.
B: Put it over here. I just want to watch.
A: Pillows fill with stale smoke. You’re sure you don’t want in?
B: A dik-dik has my attention now. Did I mention I’m on the veld?
A: Sad and beautiful. Language conspires to keep us gemmed.
B: Triage is overrated A: with its deer bones frosted with frost.
B: How many times do I have to tell you how to spell lavender?
A: At least two more words that begin with gyn-.
B: I taste that when I'm trying to eat.
B: Not enough people appreciate lucite or appetite or renascence spelled gay like that.
A: Marcel Duchamp and Mina Loy are here.
B: I thought so. You mean Mee-mee and Michelle.
A: They’re bringing the future.
B: Any longer and I’ll need meds to wait.
A: I’m sure they brought plenty with them.
B: I forgot we were in New York.
Love Song Auditions
A: Its hot eyes glare and weep.
B: I've been hearing all about you.
A: Let's see
B: I have my psychotic sources. But mostly I just ruffle their plumage.
A: I'm not into duckjobs. Psychotic sources are never wrong. They are the sunspots of the internet.
B: I perform swimmingly in most Afterlifes. I'm user-friendly and compatible with most museums and nervous breakdowns, and I'm especially good with nervous breakdowns that take place in museums. I film them.
A: In case, you haven't noticed I can support myself just fine with scrimshaw, whaling expeditions and glacier mapping. My glacier mapping is well regarded and seen by many as the best in the field. I don't particularly like glaciers. But anything that comes this automatically is not to be spurned.
A: Also, I get to enjoy narwhals. The trick to draw them close to your ship is to have a virgin on board. They're like those unicorns.
B: Duh. I wrote the book on narwhals. Don't condescend. Do you use live virgins as bait or do you buy those pre-packaged dead ones?
A: Now who's being condescending?
B: Sorry.
B: I've been hearing all about you.
A: Let's see
B: I have my psychotic sources. But mostly I just ruffle their plumage.
A: I'm not into duckjobs. Psychotic sources are never wrong. They are the sunspots of the internet.
B: I perform swimmingly in most Afterlifes. I'm user-friendly and compatible with most museums and nervous breakdowns, and I'm especially good with nervous breakdowns that take place in museums. I film them.
A: In case, you haven't noticed I can support myself just fine with scrimshaw, whaling expeditions and glacier mapping. My glacier mapping is well regarded and seen by many as the best in the field. I don't particularly like glaciers. But anything that comes this automatically is not to be spurned.
A: Also, I get to enjoy narwhals. The trick to draw them close to your ship is to have a virgin on board. They're like those unicorns.
B: Duh. I wrote the book on narwhals. Don't condescend. Do you use live virgins as bait or do you buy those pre-packaged dead ones?
A: Now who's being condescending?
B: Sorry.
Love Song Auditions
A: Arranged like a theory, you're all balled up.
B: I know a way you could help.
A: The tires around your eyes show me you've been here before.
B: I've been here, and don't you remember.
A: How else could I come back again, red and mirrored and lame.
B: Formica is named after ants.
A: Our predecessors would have been proud.
B: Lattice, wicker, anything to make a mark.
A: Splotchy or consistent.
B: The grain played heavy in your addiction to image.
A: Watch it, unrememberer.
B: Coffee doesn't make itself.
A: Its hot eyes glare and weep.
B: I've been hearing all about you.
A: Let's see.
B: I know a way you could help.
A: The tires around your eyes show me you've been here before.
B: I've been here, and don't you remember.
A: How else could I come back again, red and mirrored and lame.
B: Formica is named after ants.
A: Our predecessors would have been proud.
B: Lattice, wicker, anything to make a mark.
A: Splotchy or consistent.
B: The grain played heavy in your addiction to image.
A: Watch it, unrememberer.
B: Coffee doesn't make itself.
A: Its hot eyes glare and weep.
B: I've been hearing all about you.
A: Let's see.
A Brief and Blameless Sorta Plagiarism Sonnet (after C.D. Wright)
Venery one bowed Cocksmooch the other aped
Slumgullion one coughed Pell-mell the other sputtered
Kirlian it whispered Tituba it guttered
Wangdoodle it spattered Frisian it scraped
Boneyard it thrust Ojibwa it recoiled
Fickle it shook its wings Bulblet it pleaded
Kinkajou it caressed Tse-tse it somnambulated
Bukkake it umbrellaed Rimrock it entrenched
Stingray it stewed Undercroft it hid
Dornick it tossed Hecuba it upheld
Psalmist it pleaded Goliathish it brandished
Woolfean it lapidaried Riverine it pitied
Phlegethon it branded Torquemada it snickered
Abomination it withdrew Edenic it promised
Slumgullion one coughed Pell-mell the other sputtered
Kirlian it whispered Tituba it guttered
Wangdoodle it spattered Frisian it scraped
Boneyard it thrust Ojibwa it recoiled
Fickle it shook its wings Bulblet it pleaded
Kinkajou it caressed Tse-tse it somnambulated
Bukkake it umbrellaed Rimrock it entrenched
Stingray it stewed Undercroft it hid
Dornick it tossed Hecuba it upheld
Psalmist it pleaded Goliathish it brandished
Woolfean it lapidaried Riverine it pitied
Phlegethon it branded Torquemada it snickered
Abomination it withdrew Edenic it promised
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
automatic
the bed has cast its eyes on me
it has millions of eyes
there are yellow and greencast
and the britches, of course
the little puffy automatic eyes
that bristle when kicked
I found you crumpled
at the bottom at the foot
someone’d kicked you
pity and you were bruising
pretty but the only ones watching us
were set for sleep and sex
cast me out and see
what you catch
it has millions of eyes
there are yellow and greencast
and the britches, of course
the little puffy automatic eyes
that bristle when kicked
I found you crumpled
at the bottom at the foot
someone’d kicked you
pity and you were bruising
pretty but the only ones watching us
were set for sleep and sex
cast me out and see
what you catch
Love Song Auditions
A: I want to be a pure emotion instead of this human back-of-the-throat need
B: I like transdermal patches of anything
A: I can do a good 'personation of a human trach. Wanna see it?
B: I prefer the venation of the leaf. Red, supernal, pillows stolen bring the best dreams.
A: Every first date should involve the participants acting out a scene from Fargo. Preferably one that takes place in a snowy field with no tall vegetation whatsoever. I call dibs on the long shot.
B: A Gund smallish panda looking at me from a dark room. Just now I passed. Wondering.
A: Sad and beautiful. Are words like those machines that make ocean sounds to help one fall asleep.
B: Triage is overrated.
A: I use a Milan Kundera novel to shim a mechanical assassin automaton. She says this funny thing about the unbearable lightness of virtue. Virtue with its deer bones.
B: Roman tinder?
A: Roman tinder redux.
B: Men who call men boys belong in the innermost circle of Hell. With stuffed animals in their arms.
A: The sandwich was named for a prick. I can taste that when I'm eating it.
B: Not enough people appreciate lucite or appetite or renascence spelled gay like that.
A: Humph. That's an appreciation.
B: I thought so. How many things can you think to shotgun from one lover to another? I stopped at fourteen. That would be a pretty visual sonnet.
A: YouTube would agonize for days whether to delete it.
B: I am not deletional any longer. The meds helped. I don't take any.
A: This isn't Doonesbury. Shut up. Get that door, please.
B: It's the Excoriator. He says he's here for the Baby. Is the Baby available?
A: Let me check. I think he was giving someone a blowjob fifteen minutes ago. But he could be anywhere by now.
B: I like transdermal patches of anything
A: I can do a good 'personation of a human trach. Wanna see it?
B: I prefer the venation of the leaf. Red, supernal, pillows stolen bring the best dreams.
A: Every first date should involve the participants acting out a scene from Fargo. Preferably one that takes place in a snowy field with no tall vegetation whatsoever. I call dibs on the long shot.
B: A Gund smallish panda looking at me from a dark room. Just now I passed. Wondering.
A: Sad and beautiful. Are words like those machines that make ocean sounds to help one fall asleep.
B: Triage is overrated.
A: I use a Milan Kundera novel to shim a mechanical assassin automaton. She says this funny thing about the unbearable lightness of virtue. Virtue with its deer bones.
B: Roman tinder?
A: Roman tinder redux.
B: Men who call men boys belong in the innermost circle of Hell. With stuffed animals in their arms.
A: The sandwich was named for a prick. I can taste that when I'm eating it.
B: Not enough people appreciate lucite or appetite or renascence spelled gay like that.
A: Humph. That's an appreciation.
B: I thought so. How many things can you think to shotgun from one lover to another? I stopped at fourteen. That would be a pretty visual sonnet.
A: YouTube would agonize for days whether to delete it.
B: I am not deletional any longer. The meds helped. I don't take any.
A: This isn't Doonesbury. Shut up. Get that door, please.
B: It's the Excoriator. He says he's here for the Baby. Is the Baby available?
A: Let me check. I think he was giving someone a blowjob fifteen minutes ago. But he could be anywhere by now.
Dear Stan,
I have my own accent.
Tell me what you want it to be, Big Boy.
Tell me where you want it to go.
I darkread in my sucker voice
the warblings of your name.
The South? Denmark?
From Cleveland? Where’d you say you’re from?
Aloria. The place between your ears.
I call you something abbreviated in my head.
In my e-mail list? A name.
In my bed? A mane.
My long johns splotch with lampblack
from our whaling expedition.
We thought we’d bring in Language
but she was too enransomed. March.
We’ll get there at some semblance.
We’ll tie the trolleys down, create
an outstanding prick to bring
her down. Lips and tongue and throat.
Tell me what you want it to be, Big Boy.
Tell me where you want it to go.
I darkread in my sucker voice
the warblings of your name.
The South? Denmark?
From Cleveland? Where’d you say you’re from?
Aloria. The place between your ears.
I call you something abbreviated in my head.
In my e-mail list? A name.
In my bed? A mane.
My long johns splotch with lampblack
from our whaling expedition.
We thought we’d bring in Language
but she was too enransomed. March.
We’ll get there at some semblance.
We’ll tie the trolleys down, create
an outstanding prick to bring
her down. Lips and tongue and throat.
Descriptors
You found my collection of theatrically plausible sex toys.
And went around licking them.
Pictographs,
I adore you. Spleen, tail,
egg, ribbon. Stanchion, lair,
music, ribaldry.
And went around licking them.
Pictographs,
I adore you. Spleen, tail,
egg, ribbon. Stanchion, lair,
music, ribaldry.
oh hi, it's me, marguerite duras....
...don't mind me...
I just wanted to say this, and then I'll return to being dead...
(of a lover being filmed)
"Listen. I also believe that if you were not to look at that which appears before you, it would become apparent on the screen. And the screen would go blank."
au revoir, mes enfants....
I just wanted to say this, and then I'll return to being dead...
(of a lover being filmed)
"Listen. I also believe that if you were not to look at that which appears before you, it would become apparent on the screen. And the screen would go blank."
au revoir, mes enfants....
Lower the Stakes
with Cate Blanchett. She is a white witch
devil woman
child venus
fly tramp
stamp. Her pigtails like Lucifer's, the gut
has wrenched itself open
when I see her onscreen
I know it's not supposed to be
a horror movie but to me it is.
William Carlos Williams never had to know her.
He was lucky. And we have his poetry, too.
Cate Blanchett is the scary mother moth
of never-flying-into-the-flame
no matter how much you want that.
I almost saw her at Burger King, too,
and everyone was crowding her burger and fry
time with calls and shynesses so loud you could feel them.
She ate a Whopper and when she got some of the blood in her teeth
I was relieved. She looked human. Normally in her whiteness
a stench the reverse of visual silence. Her eyes
cling to anything but wrapper.
They try but I walk away, I tell my eyes, Stop and step the fuck out.
She stole away into clouds
and the burger she'd eaten was gone into dust
in her feathers. Interest, resmile yourself out of whispers. Nothing is good or bad.
But Cate. Her last name a descriptor, an awful histological etymology.
Who is badddddddddrumming her fingernails on my consciousness like a toothache.
Look down at the ground when she passes.
Look down at the tiggerwrought earth.
devil woman
child venus
fly tramp
stamp. Her pigtails like Lucifer's, the gut
has wrenched itself open
when I see her onscreen
I know it's not supposed to be
a horror movie but to me it is.
William Carlos Williams never had to know her.
He was lucky. And we have his poetry, too.
Cate Blanchett is the scary mother moth
of never-flying-into-the-flame
no matter how much you want that.
I almost saw her at Burger King, too,
and everyone was crowding her burger and fry
time with calls and shynesses so loud you could feel them.
She ate a Whopper and when she got some of the blood in her teeth
I was relieved. She looked human. Normally in her whiteness
a stench the reverse of visual silence. Her eyes
cling to anything but wrapper.
They try but I walk away, I tell my eyes, Stop and step the fuck out.
She stole away into clouds
and the burger she'd eaten was gone into dust
in her feathers. Interest, resmile yourself out of whispers. Nothing is good or bad.
But Cate. Her last name a descriptor, an awful histological etymology.
Who is badddddddddrumming her fingernails on my consciousness like a toothache.
Look down at the ground when she passes.
Look down at the tiggerwrought earth.
title sonnet
a crack around the room reminds me that place
is important in poetry and in life
it's just a setting. tired rips are starting
in my chest, the wraparound clavicles
arched and limber, like cakes frosted
and forgotten. the wrists tapping wires
are all around the sleeping dog, the human
mantra of control is having to pee
and no where to go. the house smells
like sewage and no one remembers
one hundred years ago, dumping crusts
off street corners, out windows, jumping bridges.
turning the rims off, the sucking motion
of a faucet, I see myself dripping, drip.
is important in poetry and in life
it's just a setting. tired rips are starting
in my chest, the wraparound clavicles
arched and limber, like cakes frosted
and forgotten. the wrists tapping wires
are all around the sleeping dog, the human
mantra of control is having to pee
and no where to go. the house smells
like sewage and no one remembers
one hundred years ago, dumping crusts
off street corners, out windows, jumping bridges.
turning the rims off, the sucking motion
of a faucet, I see myself dripping, drip.
ummm around the room sonnet
buddha wears winter hat
six elmo rings
a skull with feathers stuck in it
sucking yes
spring is all about sucking
the bunny from the cake
gay something-or-other
chiming in, dead hippo
cocteau twins toys
star trek tracer ammo
twisted quarter airplane
me on a beach i'm five
wearing my brother's tank
top the ocean looks hungry
a seal who's sand glue
a bunny crouching who wants
fucked that's all folks
six elmo rings
a skull with feathers stuck in it
sucking yes
spring is all about sucking
the bunny from the cake
gay something-or-other
chiming in, dead hippo
cocteau twins toys
star trek tracer ammo
twisted quarter airplane
me on a beach i'm five
wearing my brother's tank
top the ocean looks hungry
a seal who's sand glue
a bunny crouching who wants
fucked that's all folks
vaguely netherlandish sonnet
oh missoula, curtsying manitou
i Ctrl & F5 to see if you practice sorcery
do you like the word "liliaceous"
I thought alice mentioned "missoula" in a poem
i hallucinated
from "liliaceous" to "missoula" is a short ride
(you are pretty when distempered i bet)
i have a greek fisherman's cap on a nail on my door
"Juice Ordered Me to Be Made"
i was sad reading two haloed mourners in the tub this morning
strokes change language but it continues
language is strokes. hehe i said "strokes"
do you like the way tulips pretend to have blood in their petals? (i do)
i can make this volta a sonnet by putting this line here: Ka-Ching!
i Ctrl & F5 to see if you practice sorcery
do you like the word "liliaceous"
I thought alice mentioned "missoula" in a poem
i hallucinated
from "liliaceous" to "missoula" is a short ride
(you are pretty when distempered i bet)
i have a greek fisherman's cap on a nail on my door
"Juice Ordered Me to Be Made"
i was sad reading two haloed mourners in the tub this morning
strokes change language but it continues
language is strokes. hehe i said "strokes"
do you like the way tulips pretend to have blood in their petals? (i do)
i can make this volta a sonnet by putting this line here: Ka-Ching!
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