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
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.