To go through a door -
which is all you can do -
with thought.
And yet - this is how
you think you were born -
if you are clumsy of thought -
only if -
you believe your mother
a simple door.
She is not.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC
You will probably always
be savage
as a drop of pond water.
The unnecessary magnification
of this wee orb
always reveals monsters -
animalcules -
relax.
The background
is shit-green.
All of life
flows from
our scumminess.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
If the tiles of talking
are replaced by something else,
say, lexical snowflakes,
where will our linear minds be?
It's not that we don't understand
weird, multifoliate simultaneities
in dreams, in anguish,
or in ecstasy. It's just
the rest of the dumb time
we stand there and pull
from our mouths a usual
piece of numb string.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
Atari clouds are digital ziggurats,
and rather minimal at that.
The sounds are Amiga.
Welcome to the eighties.
Your hair is big,
your clothes are odd,
and Nagel is a minor god.
Welcome to the eighties.
There is a plague
and ACT UP's rage,
but Reagan will not act his age.
For six years, he will say nothing.
Generation X gives birth to Y,
future hipsters to vilify.
All music is vinyl or cassette.
Rocks stars still wear epaulets.
There are two Coreys, podded peas.
Terrorists stay overseas.
Boy bands aren't quite yet in vogue.
Menudo carries a heavy load.
Ricky Martin is still straight.
Cimino ***** with Heaven's Gate.
Cindy Sherman is everyone.
Johnny Hinckley got his gun.
Welcome to the eighties.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC
Emotion and tone,
like sugar
in your tea.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 5:29 AM UTC
It has no glass.
Unlike you, I can feel
its actual hands.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC