a fire the height of a mountain

experiences insomnia on a bed

of ash.

imagine if that mountainous fire

were split in half--verticality met

with an ashen horizontality.

which provides for a Dantesque

floodgate of ascending & descending

beings.

during the: Teatro alla Scala's

opening night (August 3, 1778).

Antonio Salieri's opera:

L' Europa rinconoscuita, a

chandelier so happened to

crash down...because all the

attendees were staring out at

one another with binoculars.

at the same time.

a ten foot sasquatch in

Montana's wilderness

listens to Beethoven's: Fifth.

he once found it an open

dumpster in town.

it was a pair from the 80s--

tomato-red in color, those

cottony earmuff-size ones

they used to produce.

he's swaying back & forth,

throwing around his massive

meat-hooks, the way that great

composer would.

Van Gogh's: Yellow House

was one of the coziest dwellings

of all time.

everything was touched with a

warmth, not to mention his

brilliant usage of Japanese

print coloration.

what a uniquely gracious

sacrifice, our Pinocchio

made--when he snapped

off the carrot of his nose.

on a land of abandon.

St. Frances

replays his eyelashes ,

zeroing down on

the drifting continents--

of their native Country.

as spot on canticles phantom--

leaves pressed by light

to a forest floor.

handheld as if infirm...

& helped away--

the period of an endstory

keeps dotting itself.

whilst grinning profusely.

an enwrapped citadel

blackens its candle.

to wind way...wax-wise.

beings residing from that

that forestalled drippage.

metaphor:

a wavicle met

with the length

of your imagining.

dotted overhead/underneath--

every ripple.

there was something to

sidestepping a book of:

Yellow Pages.

on a scratch of sidewalk--right

after a long soaking.

that yellow tome stuffed with

contacts--wanting to crumple

like a napkin.

no helium...a full-bodied, hundred foot

Frankenstein.

drunkenly leaning forward--with hands

that look as if they're set to strangle.

guest-appearing at: Macy's Day Parade.

ill-fitting black suit jacket, overblown

shoulder pads--spewing said hands at the wrist.

prominent fade marks at the back, that spread

down to highwater black pants.

meeting 19th century Dutch clogs.

two-ton screws spinning in his temples.

his stitches splitting apart, against plum-purple

confetti...that twirl like gnats.

analogous smears

of last-seen birds,

on the headband of

dusk.

wrapping around

a dispensing third eye.

Da Vinci's thrice-grace

inkage, of a likened

fetal-pod.

supplanted in care

of a belly.

overly still with the

behavior of pain.

readying for this world.

Judas-kissy's crease mark

every window of the

Chrysler Building.

blowing back crystal clear

visages.

courtesy of window cleaners--

spontaneously dangling from

rafters.

in an f 5 tornado.

simulating said structure.

there's a sketchup--

of a unisex, Grey's Anatomy

figure.

utterly saturated with macro/micro

eights...re-orgasming~

a burl on a

linebacker's--width

tree limb.

rales at an oncoming

gale.

swelling with an indelible raindrop--

as if forecasting a

star.

sure heirs to confusion--

form a majestic, medieval

circle.

saunter met with danse.

the plot shifting floorboards

beneath their feet.

to the lute of John Dowland.

underground concatenations...

distending draperies.

writhing mammons shrouded

with spittle.

horrified & horrifying unction.

phosphorescent bruises issuing

above ground.

oriental porcelain--

of Van Gogh's: "Blue Irises".

run on fields, overthrowing

horizonal curvatures.

a lily pad spreads

like a blanket over  

a baby.

page book synopsis...

cloisters of illustration.

peculiar lolling in a

rattler.

the creaking bars of

a crib...too tractless

for a tale.

though treasured.

there's a giftboxed

star, 7 by 13 inching.

funny-crumpled,

aquarium-doused

in purple sparkles.

suave in its wriggly bed.

exempt from color.

finger-tipping explorations.

of: You-Shouldn't-Have.

an ashen-blond

maiden, with locks

down to her ankles.

bluish-grey-green

eyes, rarer than their

rocks.

is flung out of a pile of

emulsified leaves--to the

flourishes of an arch.

into a sink's basin, large

enough to be a bathtub.

strumming the eights of

cobwebs...she tears out her

heart, & begins scrubbing

it frantically.

until her hands dissolve to

her elbows.

a free horse

offering its back

to a chief.

as mane & headdress

go mad with the force

of a direction.

Native America~

Hokusai's: "Great Wave",

interpolated ocean into

mountain/ mountain into

ocean.

diffuse with a seminally spraying

down wave...& snowcapped mountains.

graced by an awed: sled/boat of

prostrating pilgrims.

poised to meet the dynamism of that

upturning curvature--segued by legend.

the rocking booths

of arcades.

rated: R, by pheromonal

happenstance.

inboxed: 17, at full capacity.

pacman & stale popcorn--

that gushes butter down

pipelined necks.

matchmaking with

Elio's pizza--dude!

an eighty-year-old strand

of hair.

dyed purple...too west for

its coast.

every jammed quarter's a

pit boss.

David Lynch banging his

57-Chevy fore-lock, against

glass that contains Wednesday's

bacon.

stealing out of the glass of

a corner store.

candy store--such betrayable

headspace, baggable sugar.

shoot...

Hitchcockian birds

straighten the plotlines

of muffled branches.

with absentee perches--

coupled with wing.