Thursday, December 18, 2008


By the feasibility of a zone.

The day laborers built a whistle.

When a whistle blew they died.

One can easily get hooked up.

How hung up in a zoning loop

you are depends on how splendidly

bejeweled at the waist. This garment

left the thought of food in bed

in a hidden pocket of the hollowed

skull. A chocolate bug.

Miu Nicewander left her scent.

I was reminded of the time spilling

from the wound. A midriff blown

into separate dream partitions.

I was getting nerves. I called

my cell and asked if anyone could

calm me down with a song. One tone

per customer it said I would believe.

Into the cell she came to tell me,

“You misspelled my name. I like it

better. I’m sorry they’re hanging

you on football Sunday.” I said,

”What, according to your measure

is an appropriate length of earring

for a straight man?” A new zone

opened and swallowed all my merit.

The guard of flattened at the outer rim

asexuals escorted me to the mouth.

My robes burned away by rising air, no

sensation of heat preceded the fluid rock.

The car he acquires will tell us

who has the coordinates to the final

seasonable egg.

I sing of thee in the four on the floor

signature that makes a dying tango

of the world of process.

Your principal attributes float.

Only you know when, the what

always comes when she whistles.

And what difference does where

make when you have no idea

how this paper reached its appointed

corner of the blizzard. A sinker,

an order of slave purpose, and, oh,

a cup of who, Job.

Thursday, December 11, 2008


Rather you do this with intent.

Better willingly, sheepishly, said Jack.

Dizzily if you can pull it off.

That's my cap he said but wasn’t

wearing anything underneath.

The humming isn't then the flag?

A battle means we’re between?

Destinations all piled up in a heap.

Take one, they’re freezing with you.

At once in came the ninnies, vats

of a kava extract on their poles.

One was called Chas, a Jagoff.

Another said it was the tiara.

All the desire united at all the hips,

nothing like a union, more like stew.

Graffiti of the word “despotism”

was the only possible decorating choice.

At one art with one house in no location.

With singular pleasure we will burn.

Take down that cabinet but leave

the cabinet photo. Dr. Powerhinge

feels his way to the door of the ladies

armory. In this way he was no longer

blind. In this way he saw the total body.

Tailored to fit his hand. And shaped

more like a bird's. With a band.

Monday, December 8, 2008


And a vacuum come to this?

Come to this! Shifted in a sound.

A seat burned entirely noiseless.

We must all come.

She watched him without speaking.

The silence went with her.

Into a tube recently placed by?

The more secret it became

the deeper the recesses

of the house. She herself

has known you practically

and yet all their lives missing

a specific name. Mrs. Siphon

or the vacant son of James’s.

On board with the program

hidden in his clothing.

An idea to be somewhere.

A pocket notebook insisted

on taking the numbers.

Less that data nothing stands.

Between him and the room

removing itself a cut. And all

it’s contents off to a darker clime.