I sink my teeth into the blue of your body is full of tourists. The walls
are full of insects. There is a sign over your bed that is unintelligible.
The yard is full of tourists. The walls of your body reveals that you kept
in the basement. Someone has left the back door unlocked. For some reason
I never come around any more. I blame the French. They were drawing a smile
across your face with a knife. The sun has been replaced with yawns. The
yard is full of tourists. The walls of your body reveals that your library
contains more tears than anything. I felt like a bird whose flesh was made
of mouths. I propped a ladder up against your window, but when I climbed
up to look in on you, your All of the loud speakers have been discovered
by the flash-bulbs of the dead. Some part of me is disappointed that the
execution was terminated after someone unplugged the river. The meaning
too often relies on an understanding of the method. Your bodies are overcome
with loss. Are night sweats a sign over your bed?
Order 9 Travesty
So Beyond My Expections (This Is Marblehead)
A tree, spaced with winking, constitutes long mountain bound with radiant intention, like a boulder. Throng of mentioned boulders continues in bunting on a pole, stretches of rock strewn shoreline, lonely mountain. After ages of clear poems, the words were tired, tried. We winked in the beginning, with Saturday sunlight, a whiff of the sea. Sensual moment. The clouds were as heavy as figs, the streaming of desert down thru the ages. Then this desperate love of love, into the future, and we hold hands. This is a flow, with clouds that swell, with a crunch of sand, political intention in rock, a shoreline with comfort. The yachts are happy, a breeze surplice supplied, and a day is acquired. Acquired begs the day. The tree is filled with clusters of sunlight, flow of sensation, and the imprint of going on. Suddenly, this is present, like a poem. Now is known to happen.
David At the Swimming-hole
Naked and untamed, beneath the eddying water of the swimming-hole under the overhanging Wild-plum he was swimming for the joy of being nude. Suddenly he unloosed the artillery of his crisp voice that seems too reechoed with the booming that proclaimed the breaking of silent.
“David, David, join me!”
I sat on the bank snipping twigs and throwing them into the dark water, content to watch his wonderful brown body moving through the early evening where the sounds of hidden birds surged down to us.
He was matchless in his freedom even in the jungle of the city wherein all manner of human beasts and birds that makes up the voice of the city is a distraction to me.
He was sure that I was in love by the way that in the past he paraded his roasted coco brown body before me, a love that was emerging with dignity, with no unnecessary commotion to wash over us, a love so gently, so contently as the word queer spoken to myself but, my love is like a flower pressed between the pages of an old Bible and kept for ornamental purposes until it crumbled and have to be thrown away. I tend to spread my love around as the fragrance of the May apple and violet and the wild-plum. No man has of yet been able to hold my heart.
He came dripping with water out of the swimming-hole smelling of the spirit of the garden that creep into a boy’s heart. Standing nude before me he was safe, very safe and he knew it in the silender form of his body. He knew it by the ripe experience of pass men. He spread his shirt on the ground beside me and sat down
“You want to fool around?” he asked
“I don’t give my love to straight men you guys don’t have the mind set to appreciate the experience”
“Bull-shit!” was his reply
“You want my meat; I can read it in your eyes”
“The desires of my eyes are free but it is with the heart that you must pay to play.”
I picked up a twig and broke it in two then threw them both into the pool where the ripple spread out across the greenish grim of the water.
“Get dress before I do something that I will surely regret.”
“David, David, join me!”
I sat on the bank snipping twigs and throwing them into the dark water, content to watch his wonderful brown body moving through the early evening where the sounds of hidden birds surged down to us.
He was matchless in his freedom even in the jungle of the city wherein all manner of human beasts and birds that makes up the voice of the city is a distraction to me.
He was sure that I was in love by the way that in the past he paraded his roasted coco brown body before me, a love that was emerging with dignity, with no unnecessary commotion to wash over us, a love so gently, so contently as the word queer spoken to myself but, my love is like a flower pressed between the pages of an old Bible and kept for ornamental purposes until it crumbled and have to be thrown away. I tend to spread my love around as the fragrance of the May apple and violet and the wild-plum. No man has of yet been able to hold my heart.
He came dripping with water out of the swimming-hole smelling of the spirit of the garden that creep into a boy’s heart. Standing nude before me he was safe, very safe and he knew it in the silender form of his body. He knew it by the ripe experience of pass men. He spread his shirt on the ground beside me and sat down
“You want to fool around?” he asked
“I don’t give my love to straight men you guys don’t have the mind set to appreciate the experience”
“Bull-shit!” was his reply
“You want my meat; I can read it in your eyes”
“The desires of my eyes are free but it is with the heart that you must pay to play.”
I picked up a twig and broke it in two then threw them both into the pool where the ripple spread out across the greenish grim of the water.
“Get dress before I do something that I will surely regret.”
'i'm
i'm still quick enough
to grab a small dog or cat
behind the jaw
so it can't bite me
and there is something
call it cancer
that does this to us saying
there
there and there
i can get you
When the Sky Falls
Mueller drove his oxcart to market every Sunday. He wore a Moyle’s cap and a cutter’s overcoat, the cuffs frayed and stained. He pulled hard left on the ox-lead, bringing the cart to a stop, the oxen snorting like pugs, and lowered himself to the ground. A man in a crowberry hat held up his hand, his face red as a fall apple, and shouted, ‘…stop!...that’s near far enough, now back up and hobble the beasts…’. Sitting across the street, legs crowed into staves, the dogmen eyed the oxcart, the littlest of the dogmen chewing on the cob of his pipe, the biggest swatting at a fly with the back of his hand. Without warning or counsel the sky fell, caving in every head in sight. Off in the middling distance a Moyle’s cap, the brim torn to tatters, spun like a tailless kite in the empty sky, the cob of the littlest dogman’s pipe railing after it for dearest life.
DUTCH, PHILLY, BLUNT WRAP, SWEETS
to get the plastic off
the tinnies and to open
the shrink I carried plastic
bags (the walmart ones
are great enclose the poop
in a leakproof vial the
US stink bomb research
is part of the Pentagon's
Gray Kangaroo celebrated launch
we do a neighborhood ornament
exchange every year instead
of making our own
bendable spaceships
stink bugs hide in weeds
I have used a prusik belay
the Petzl shunt and the steel
carabiner shunt and all three
stink das ist ein ganz
stink-normaler demo-text
it is good to wrap
up the mess thoroughly But
Merry Christmas and Happy
New Year anyway I always get
nervous when they wrap good
news up in self-congratulatory
hype No need to buy sausage
casing to wrap the diapers
People who are afraid of rot
mold and stink shouldn't eat
cheese Put musk in a condom and
shoot it our teen chef shows
you how to make a
delicious turkey
the tinnies and to open
the shrink I carried plastic
bags (the walmart ones
are great enclose the poop
in a leakproof vial the
US stink bomb research
is part of the Pentagon's
Gray Kangaroo celebrated launch
we do a neighborhood ornament
exchange every year instead
of making our own
bendable spaceships
stink bugs hide in weeds
I have used a prusik belay
the Petzl shunt and the steel
carabiner shunt and all three
stink das ist ein ganz
stink-normaler demo-text
it is good to wrap
up the mess thoroughly But
Merry Christmas and Happy
New Year anyway I always get
nervous when they wrap good
news up in self-congratulatory
hype No need to buy sausage
casing to wrap the diapers
People who are afraid of rot
mold and stink shouldn't eat
cheese Put musk in a condom and
shoot it our teen chef shows
you how to make a
delicious turkey
Carcinopolis
(via alhazred dot com)weaponized conscience
née Ararat
pontiff craw burn
disuniting versts
are proverbs of
DJ Woodstove
gripsack
chockful of dumbth
vast kepi
and the disuniting versts
Tonight in Monopoli- South Italy
Tonight I'll performe a painting live on stage with other three painters
while some musicians will play their sounds!!!
while some musicians will play their sounds!!!
Acnestis
And did you find chrome raincoat
it's a dark ward
a postcard from Lisbon
won't ward off
latterly dark word
chronicle of snow loss
and did you find chrome raincoat
in the dark ward
of a dark and darkening wood
The Road Ahead Is Full of Smaller Cars.
There and not somewhere else
In the past, say, or in promises
Over the hill. And smaller fantasies.
Together we play. Let us play.
Let’s give back what we need.
The road ahead is full of slightly more
Than we can eat in a reasonable amount
Of time. Mess with your plumbing
For a dollar. A good rate for filling up
Your pipes with joy. Together we are
Priests and dignitaries of motion.
Go lightly on your way, pouncing cats,
In name of petroleum reserves, aloud.
There, the whistling bird upon ore
Mountaintops. The road ahead lies
Paved with scratch-armed fathers.
Think twice before you mess with a dollar.
There and not somewhere else
In the past, say, or in promises
Over the hill. And smaller fantasies.
Together we play. Let us play.
Let’s give back what we need.
The road ahead is full of slightly more
Than we can eat in a reasonable amount
Of time. Mess with your plumbing
For a dollar. A good rate for filling up
Your pipes with joy. Together we are
Priests and dignitaries of motion.
Go lightly on your way, pouncing cats,
In name of petroleum reserves, aloud.
There, the whistling bird upon ore
Mountaintops. The road ahead lies
Paved with scratch-armed fathers.
Think twice before you mess with a dollar.
Allatonce
He, Ambert uv yale, watches the sun fawl lik a stoneduk onta tha mirrar uv th cowld bloo watr. Humbert’s nowse splyen’ acruss the playn of hes fac, a duk’s-ball skoopen’ palls uv madmurnin’ aire. God hav marcy on us ull: n’thyn sum, xclaim’d Murphy…! Nat a minut ta whyste sayd Murphy sloo’lee; nory a’wun…nay…nury a wun…! A brownyelo turt’l set acrost the mowth uv tha rivar, its shel spakl’d with watr’gras and marrowbone, a mozaik uv colar tha likes uv witch Humbert had naver see’n…turtalfat, browner tha’n tabaco jewce (so thay s’a) fat’-willoo’ing the whog uv its nek. ‘Strange indeed’, sayd Murphy pleesenglee, ‘such a strange and unsightly sight: a turtle with a woggy neck and a tinkers’ filed down shellcap’. Humbert, his flimax undun, the sk’y a kat-o-nine-tails…not a minut ta wayst, nor a momint to be lost-in ni refrownd.
Wen Murphy waz a wee lad, a wayf, a tinee wee wayf uv a lad, he mayd kytes frum waxpapre and seelingwax. He uwsed strait’end ouwt kowthangars and bawledup twyne he pylfured frum hiss da’s werkshop, tha varysame one hiss da keypt hees two’ll’s and varnush in; tha varysame one wair hee kep’t a bowtell of Eyrash whyski an his Presbateareean pype abacco..hid’en ahind the varysame werkbench th’at he press’d nayls an skroos inta littal trinkats an awd nd’s. Seelingwax werkd best wen it wuz kep at reumtemprature, thatwaz U cuwd stik tha waxpapre too tha strait’end ouwt kowthangars with’owt maken a mess’a thengs, wich meent hiss da wood geit all angree and owt uv sorts, wich allsew meent heed mos probablee tan hiss ass t’ill hiss earz whent all red an boyllen-hot. ‘I wish I could sleep’ sayd Mulligan, ‘even were it for a moment, a tincture of sleepytime sleep. This is cowtime time, the time when all time, even time that hasn’t reared its untimely head, plays tricks on you, a noggin of time...so some say…so they do’. Albacorp tunuh with a musthard yelloo sawce, a wee wittal uv cowz milk sturr’d up in a Masun’s jhar. Tha muir u frapit tha sweetar it geyts. Me mamar towld me that, me deer sweet mamar: so shee did so itsso.
A sue-are bleek sk’eye, a grayt balluvblack tar. Helpheeve tha crown-enghead, cobbl’d in dar ma’s ovumketch. Hede allred an blistard, a wee caff’s tung lolleng lollenglee ona sawltlick in tha fallo rune. Murphy luckt at Mulligan an sayd, ‘for the love of God, man, the dog must go!’ Thaiyd been thru this befour, too manee tymes ta cownt; tha dog beeing’ a sorece uv mutch consternashun an sqwabbaleng. ‘For the life of me I can’t abide by it…the dog must go, immediately!’ Murphy luckt at Mulligan, hiss I’s beedeng, an sayd, ‘leave the poor thing be, it hasn’t a brain in its head, poor, poor thing.’ Apon here’eng this tha dog, cowareng in tha corner, loward its errs, its tayl beetween its scabbee lags, tung lolleng, fir hackleng, paas fidjeteng, arse presst inta tha herdwood flore.
Shez gut tha m’patago agai’n, tha saym strayn…tha saymn coffeng an hawking, tha unyun tayst, tha spoyld boyelled yello tayst, tha curset fowell ohdar thet nevar seemd ta goaway. Shee did’nae remembar mutch, an thows thengs shee diyd remembar shee tryd ta fourget, ta put outtuv her th’oughts… fore’evar an evar…God bles’s us awl, eech an everee oneuvus, shee sayd…butt no’one wuz lissteneng, naree a sowl, no ev’ayn a dog norevin a beestuvburdun, tha wyldeoxin thet liv’d near tha cornfeelds rowndby tha pepparfeelds rownd bythair…far’awhey, toofar ta see cleerlee withowt a payar uv byknockulars…that far’awhey’far, toofar ta seewith tha humin’i.
Apaleena herd cows loweng an a ren warballeng an she remembarred incerteng plums inta the fowlds uv har vagina, plumjewce trecalled down har th’eyes a sweetreecally powl undarneeth her boughtum, an tha sharp smel uv cowdung, her i’s moyst frum swet…oneuvus has sumtheng ta hyde, she thoughwt, a secrat bestkept secrat…a bryte summar sun, berds hummeng, cows loweng, sweetreekally fowlds uv wharm skin, oneuvus has sumtheng ta hyde, she thoughwt, a secrat bestleft unsayd. Asfar as she new Humbert hadent spowken a werd ta ane one in y’ears, an wen he did, it wuz in a paynfullee low voyce, a voyce hevee with sadniss an haytred…an angree voyce that mayde tha haires onher theyes standonend, no sweetreecall or sweetsweetarplumjewce, just a hardlow voyce heevee with angar an leyef’s payne.
Wen Murphy waz a wee lad, a wayf, a tinee wee wayf uv a lad, he mayd kytes frum waxpapre and seelingwax. He uwsed strait’end ouwt kowthangars and bawledup twyne he pylfured frum hiss da’s werkshop, tha varysame one hiss da keypt hees two’ll’s and varnush in; tha varysame one wair hee kep’t a bowtell of Eyrash whyski an his Presbateareean pype abacco..hid’en ahind the varysame werkbench th’at he press’d nayls an skroos inta littal trinkats an awd nd’s. Seelingwax werkd best wen it wuz kep at reumtemprature, thatwaz U cuwd stik tha waxpapre too tha strait’end ouwt kowthangars with’owt maken a mess’a thengs, wich meent hiss da wood geit all angree and owt uv sorts, wich allsew meent heed mos probablee tan hiss ass t’ill hiss earz whent all red an boyllen-hot. ‘I wish I could sleep’ sayd Mulligan, ‘even were it for a moment, a tincture of sleepytime sleep. This is cowtime time, the time when all time, even time that hasn’t reared its untimely head, plays tricks on you, a noggin of time...so some say…so they do’. Albacorp tunuh with a musthard yelloo sawce, a wee wittal uv cowz milk sturr’d up in a Masun’s jhar. Tha muir u frapit tha sweetar it geyts. Me mamar towld me that, me deer sweet mamar: so shee did so itsso.
A sue-are bleek sk’eye, a grayt balluvblack tar. Helpheeve tha crown-enghead, cobbl’d in dar ma’s ovumketch. Hede allred an blistard, a wee caff’s tung lolleng lollenglee ona sawltlick in tha fallo rune. Murphy luckt at Mulligan an sayd, ‘for the love of God, man, the dog must go!’ Thaiyd been thru this befour, too manee tymes ta cownt; tha dog beeing’ a sorece uv mutch consternashun an sqwabbaleng. ‘For the life of me I can’t abide by it…the dog must go, immediately!’ Murphy luckt at Mulligan, hiss I’s beedeng, an sayd, ‘leave the poor thing be, it hasn’t a brain in its head, poor, poor thing.’ Apon here’eng this tha dog, cowareng in tha corner, loward its errs, its tayl beetween its scabbee lags, tung lolleng, fir hackleng, paas fidjeteng, arse presst inta tha herdwood flore.
Shez gut tha m’patago agai’n, tha saym strayn…tha saymn coffeng an hawking, tha unyun tayst, tha spoyld boyelled yello tayst, tha curset fowell ohdar thet nevar seemd ta goaway. Shee did’nae remembar mutch, an thows thengs shee diyd remembar shee tryd ta fourget, ta put outtuv her th’oughts… fore’evar an evar…God bles’s us awl, eech an everee oneuvus, shee sayd…butt no’one wuz lissteneng, naree a sowl, no ev’ayn a dog norevin a beestuvburdun, tha wyldeoxin thet liv’d near tha cornfeelds rowndby tha pepparfeelds rownd bythair…far’awhey, toofar ta see cleerlee withowt a payar uv byknockulars…that far’awhey’far, toofar ta seewith tha humin’i.
Apaleena herd cows loweng an a ren warballeng an she remembarred incerteng plums inta the fowlds uv har vagina, plumjewce trecalled down har th’eyes a sweetreecally powl undarneeth her boughtum, an tha sharp smel uv cowdung, her i’s moyst frum swet…oneuvus has sumtheng ta hyde, she thoughwt, a secrat bestkept secrat…a bryte summar sun, berds hummeng, cows loweng, sweetreekally fowlds uv wharm skin, oneuvus has sumtheng ta hyde, she thoughwt, a secrat bestleft unsayd. Asfar as she new Humbert hadent spowken a werd ta ane one in y’ears, an wen he did, it wuz in a paynfullee low voyce, a voyce hevee with sadniss an haytred…an angree voyce that mayde tha haires onher theyes standonend, no sweetreecall or sweetsweetarplumjewce, just a hardlow voyce heevee with angar an leyef’s payne.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)