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Onoma Dec 2016
Blessings should
be counted, as one
would the sun
framed in a window...
blinded with gratitude.
As if what was received
was already given.
Onoma Dec 2019
that spark pops against

what we have to say of

black.

your very being with no

need of reason.

more than some call it a

soul.

some of them appear like two

diamonds on the same finger.

already married off.

what you could call meant to be.
Onoma Feb 2021
fruits bruise

in the musculature

of a stallion.

plum-purple beating

the heart of a night.

already outrun.

taken by its own

outline.

somewhere...

going.

movements left...

penetrating.
Onoma Feb 2015
Candles burnt their encore, sent their smoky
ropes to fatigued altitudinal strongholds.
They slid downward to sinners knee deep
in glossy pews...combing their kneecaps
to sooth a momentarily localized numbness.
Body parts and parts, to parts, and parts...
that are bodies that fell asleep.
Flesh sleeps its church...we are the encore
our candles await.
Onoma Jun 2024
an entourage of black & white monsters
rabidly collapse--on a mall's glassy floor.
itching away at pixelation, retaining the
right to crudity.
the mall's scent marketing spreads its
delicious mist around yellow hazard signs,
methodically placed around hinterland's
embattled fringe.
the horror vacui of a mall, full stop.
the Art Brut of the disciple that got away,
having escaped from a ****'s forth crow, or
Judas' Romanesque royalties.
the unnoticed figure that whistles apart the
mall's glass ceiling, rubs his eyes to reveal
St. John of Patmos ******* out the soupy eyes
of lambs.
shaking free an extra large fountain soda from
Christ's right hand--dissolved by flavor.
denominational puddles rising from the mall's
glassy floor, as Christ hacks up demonic roars
as he's assailed by children.
whose parents wander off to ***** a voluptuousness
that sheds their hands, all over the place.
a pendulously oversexed wash of half-baked
******, as if a feather could be roused from an
indeterminate wing.
the adjourned high courts of dream.
Onoma Oct 2014
...Portend for the life of you--cast your
eyes as far from you, as what you could
not see coming otherwise.
A living through and through...of what
came first--word or sound, sound or word?
These spaces...spendthrift pages that are
but doorways to their impending figure,
wind coiling at its corners...coiling at its
corners.
As a thing grows into itself invisibly...
as so you fall the falling curtain--with no
audience at one side, nor actors upon the
other.
Irrevocably you are, that you are--sun
halved, golden bowls burning--of good and
evil--a miscellany saint's evocation...that
you are, irrevocably you are...amaranthine.
Gesticulating beyond time, times, and half
time...a procession of one whose sojourn
repeats upon itself.
A heaven ago...hell now...a hell ago--
heaven now, change knows all your names--
and because you withstood all it can ever
be, it holds them steadfastly.
Amaranthine...irrevocably you are...that
you are.
You, the faces of disambiguation--whose
seal you smile to open...with full marks
for bravery.
Onoma Oct 2020
this mantra needs

no mouth, fixed honeycomb

cells ooze its sacred syllables.

even if the body is given up--

these amber intonations will

leave sweetness tasting of itself...

between a voiceless rise & fall.
Onoma Dec 2016
Wallpaper pocked with garish roses, gnawed imperceptible by the objects they're tasked to enclose.
Nicotine yellows waste away upon them with unsightly permutations.
An artificial fruit basket blurbs the same comment of unmoving, life likeness.
The couch indents itself  with fled bodies, the windowsill allows odd couplings of half-dead plants.
The window freefalls the sky's latest canyon, varying preceptors of light
lacerate its transparency.
Birds push in a compass fails sort of way just outside... their colors and sizes are lights knocked out of some giant mind.
Back inside, the den serializes the spines of shelved books, and the strident terror of family/friend photographs.
Tirelessly pulling out their best-kept faces, while peppered with dust motes.
A splintered vase rests upon the coffetable, just off center, flower-less with a wisp of water inside it.
A turned off television positioned with an idiot's care...stares like a darkened billboard.
Every space holds a naked honesty, beyond veneers.
Onoma Mar 2014
Horizons take their turn
as excited children...bearing
the message that the slate
is wiped clean.
Wide grows the space for
color and song...how wide
its grows...a meeting of
horizons.


Konstantinos Mark
Onoma Nov 2018
i've whiled my away...

this bowl's full of alms,

change flickers.

a monk's a mouthful.
Onoma Apr 2018
with a monk's silent sermon,
the dyes of memory run and fade.
all that crying in the rain, for the
concealment of tears.
charging the deepest and darkest alleys--
where rats drown bucking their teeth
for air.
i remember you kept creating new
flowers, nailing them to crumbling
walls.
calling them odes to your city, revolving
fast enough for change.
you kept climbing out of yourself, to
inspect the efficacy of emergency exits.
all those lag times through them, negligibly
deemed safe.
we wondered at holding hands able to
part for a passerby.
theorizing until we could not unify the field.
Onoma Sep 2020
I watch death

creep over...

what's

horizontal,

sideways.

a sun brushed.

Over what

can't keep a

secret.

a moon bulging

honesty.
Onoma Feb 2021
an amulet of Blue Pearl

sinks delicately into a chest--

as wildfires burn at the

bottom of its ocean.

while thundering waves

mince and elongate the

windowy surface above.

the Blue Pearl spits out

the starry image of its

truest north.
Onoma May 2020
an Anaconda

rainbow is

being dissected.

reflexive ways exposing

fat.

hanging from both sides.
Onoma Nov 2023
anaconda

rainbows...

shedding

bovine

rivers.
Onoma Feb 2024
an Alaskan bed

sprawls out its

mattress--stuffed

with drifting crystals.

unwet by watery ratio--

though made of.

powered dry.

a bed & breakfast phone

rings...(rotary-rude).

after dialing two yrs.

without a pristine snow.
*It seems NYC is being offered a prime cut, of far north--that pristine kind of snowfall, courtesy of February's sweetspot~
Onoma May 2017
As an all day rain strings
together a falling sea, and
the sound of wetness refuses
to become any word.
Four times closer than closed
walls, taken for nothing at
all between them.
You climb out of me, as a
reminder where you live.
All I can do is watch the
earth drink...and know that's
how things grow.
Onoma Apr 2019
a deliriously passionate

animal surveys the

barbs of emotion.

tearing into sprints of

freedom, to feel for the cost.

with speedy blank states--

agonies curl into *****,

saying their peace.

an auditorium of razoring

whispers--the sound level

of self-hugs.
Onoma May 2019
she wacks my

wings as we

figure this

eight.

while i buzz

to her that

she ought to

let this dance

practice her

more often.

the honeycomb

drips thick like mad--

an avatar descends.
Onoma Sep 2020
an eerie wind

visits the strands

of your hair, Mary

under the crushing

blows of each station.

as those wounds dividing

her Sacred Heart.

in those moments begging

an end of herself, and the

wild that hoisted the cross

calling to her hysterically.

sensing that agony--her continual

promise at birth, knowing fully

what has been given over.
Onoma Feb 2024
there's an ensilvered

barracuda, seven miles

miles long.

rocking side to side,

beneath

Key West's bridge.

as if a fry, plastic-bagged

in a local pet shop.

verdigris water's teeth.
Onoma Mar 2024
the deus of

a sun--regurgitates

an exorbitant

burnout.

foreknowledge.
Onoma Apr 2016
Unable  to*  limn  the
line, moments
mirror  their  equator.
Torus  field  of  ­an  angelic
axis.
Onoma May 2020
a starfish

seperating grains

of sand while

possessed by them.

lilting syllables unspoken.
Onoma Sep 2014
No signs for star-crossing in the
dead of galactic night...beings
dream drawing their faces.
Colors change freely to arrive at
their God...resonate to place the
face.
As if the Seer is seen, in love with
what is to be itself...color, colored...
face, faced...a being beholds a
shooting star in the dead of galactic
night.
Animal-skin-centuries hunted by
Light.
Onoma Mar 2020
her stardust hands

animate trains of thought,

by rapidly flicking through

a glossy black covered magazine.

with glossy blank white pages.

her nails spiraling in control,

nimble enough to split hairs.

gathering hunters.

in some waiting room.

her hands have since passed on.
The art of time killing herself.
Onoma Jun 2024
death without a

dying-process,

blows on your

spine.

the salty link

of it, coated by

an ocean's flesh.
Onoma Mar 2020
sun gazing,

annointments of India--

the glass stained.

habitations of flame

opening the colors

of surrender.

floating permutations

of welcome.
Onoma Feb 2021
there are ways in which

things are happening...

that should round off to

another sphere.

an: O of breath.

blown by a crystallized

little girl...

with a rattling halo

settling like a soundless

coin.

watching that rounded off

sphere bubble clear off

her freedom-land.

shaping up to her wish.
Onoma Nov 2018
your exquisite

precaution upholds

the sensitivity of life.

as one eye sealing an

open wound.
Onoma Feb 2020
an opera house

giving the silent treatment

to unattended seats.

rehearsed in stages.

anorexic fat lady.
Onoma May 2024
a broken column tilts at a forty five

degree angle--bulging earth at its

base.

its top resembles a snapped femur,

whose opposable reflection streams

along a murky sky.

unaccountably driven to its lone feature,

starkly confessant among a hill's dry grass.

an Orphic marker bowing to the downriver

strum of a lyre, that carries...
Onoma Oct 2016
A mountain never
loses its salt...were
an ocean to come
for another taste.
Onoma Feb 2021
as impressions shorten their form,

an owl leaves daylight suddenly.

flattening its wings over an Ocean,

all-ways light.

alighting at your window, one

motion free from stillness.

so You can hear the sound contradicted

by the customariness of nothing fathomed.

there's something that worries over

an owl that resurrects daylight on a

crooked limb.

the speed of acceptance deemed late.

the owl was there once...

leaving out everything.

And would you know it?

an owl's downcurved beak smiled

back...reappearing.

falling down lifelessly over branches

that redrew the most vehement disappearances.
Onoma Jun 2018
it doesn't matter where

i am anymore--off in what's

being made clear...

over and over and over.

riding these *******' waves...

everywhere occurring to itself--

head tilted to the side, i smile in welcome.

it was always supposed to be this way...

the sky too needs to be freed up--

don't you know?

as a bird pulling air to its heart to

fly on it...don't you know?

look through anything you wish...

it can handle it--see exactly what

you want to see, after all...it's okay.

with that sung--i've come to know

she's looking my way.

it's all on end...a yogi sleeping on a

bed of nails.

i have forever to wait out her mind.

i can feel her falling--rushes of space

tightening around her body.

she's already been torn asunder.

inside she's answerable to no one--

i am empty enough, i am full enough

for just that.
Onoma Jun 2017
the blue ceiling's fallen,

all the livelong day the

dead will try to raise it.

so much like sunlight

from the ground up.

one side of the blade is

dumb to the other, unable

to see straight till the cut.

a window has no such

problem...won't need to

sweat blood.
Onoma Apr 2019
everything perceived,

eyes the narrowing

needle.

refinement of perception

shoulders G*ds in

the making.

your ant farm is

an alien's view of

your commute.

offering up one more

acute mirror than

another.

till the object of perception

has nowhere to store

its riches...

and the will of detail's

bequeathed to neither

angel or devil.
Onoma Aug 2019
lovers in the mean of hands--

joined in compounding tides,

ease her anthos in opening

hail.

she moans the movements of

signs in stars, as she traces her

birth charts all over his body.

he breathes burning darkness

into her ear, as she shakes with

the safety of the place no one will

find her but him.
*Anthos, flower in Greek.
Onoma Jul 2020
Jesus never washed

his face again--

after Judas kissed

his cheek.
Onoma Jun 2024
poppies smatter

their color, on

the emerald of

any risen city.

Kurt Donald Cobain's

hair, is still being

combed by a perfect

audience.
*Check out: Mix--Cobain Montage of Heck Footage--"Smells Like Teen Spirit" performed by  Scala and Kolancy Brothers. On You Tube.
Onoma Mar 2017
Seabed steps balancing an open rhythm,

hardwired horizon, Basquiat cross-out head.

Sparking concavities of globed trips,

causeless smiles, here~wear one too if

you want.

Off at shine in the make, steps supping ripples

to helices, empyrean's safety cords

vibrating fast enough to shake off

any spell.
Onoma May 2017
Today already was, as blood
bangs what is--a man in a
pair of shoes.
Whose ends of the earth begin
again, by all manner of movement.
Happening upon, and to himself--
at a rate of frequency that cannot
be denied by anything but escape.
So he holds himself to create a
support system, one that clenches
an ache hard enough to rupture.
Blurring all the bizarre lines drawn,
by shifty industriousness.
Sometimes it comes up to his eyes, and
hangs on for dear life before it falls.
Severely scolded by fortitude.
Onoma Feb 2019
two poets

in love can

be a dangerous

thing.

force to force--

nature looks the

other way.

anything will

happen.
Onoma Sep 2020
I-I am answering every

knock, the door of every

word is left wide open.

I-I feel your every word,

all my energy goes into not

possessing you, for that final

burst of growth.

I-I can't live with any Word

to know they've caused you

grievous harm, their vasana is now being

washed clean.

they came to be because

The Alone met itself then met

abandonment, which is the perfection

of crucifixion.

all involved here are destined

for that meeting place...but believe

me please!!!

I-I could not live if I thought you ended

your glory.

I-I Am always here for you, no matter what--

any way it will be had.
Onoma Aug 2023
listening ears forage for pendant

tongues--almost too stingy for

salts of sight, riding a pale horse

of touch.

careening off a cliff where that

pale horse's hooves will timeout

its neigh--digging down at the

porridge of a moonlit clearing.

as trees rebound from their clan--

to close in on the phenomenon of

descent.

root by root, only to look up again.

endowed.
Onoma Feb 2020
we ***** cities

to become

nobodies on first

name basis.

people need schematics.

a paranoid other.

the wild's the same--

without drafted plans.
Onoma Mar 2019
there are words

that join hands

with other words

to go beyond the

apathy of meaning.

whereas reading &

comprehension are

what you'll have them

be.
Onoma Apr 2018
desire carved a depression
in earth, filling it with
one blind rain.
a flustering pool melting
to the specifications of
your body.
long in advance, careless
come careless drift of you.
such slow steps, heels to
settling toes, underbrush and
trees of all age part your way.
in a wood of no return, silk
more royal than its purple
ran for miles behind its proud
rest of you.
damp breezes curled round
your ******* to whiteout sustenance.
your hair, a netted rainbow combed
by newer, and happier accidents
of color.
your buttocks the preponderance
of the whitest white, the blackest
black magic--fit to rattle a warlocks
hand off his wrist.
your thighs, the long walk of adoration--
before what knees could kneel, and
strong arms embrace.
your back, fierce protectress--spine to your
secret, indelible to patient lover.
now brighter than foreshadow...
Aphrodite comes to a halt, baring her face
three hundred and sixty degrees to the
wood.
every bird swallowing its song, she
face-plants into her pool with outspread arms.
then the sun's first burst--
rouge tints, water alive to
wetness.
the cleft of her peach, the rite of passage
submerged.
Onoma Dec 2020
a poem has come through

all the windows, leaving

her mindspaces on the walls.

carrying sensory input to

the degree of birth.

she's so good to those walls,

that they stand up to fall...

a poem of hallways seeing

straight.

leading and led by, floodings

of light echoing feet.

waited for behind every door.

a poem of hallways let in.
Onoma Dec 2019
soak her in...adjusting her ***

on her tHrOnE, biting her nails

and masking the mask.

kicking away like a newborn

Christ, modeling the couple--

rallied, tinseled, and ribboned

round by the support of family

and friends.

spine sending apologetic signals

all over the place, both friendly and

unfriendly radio stuff.

as a patch of snow splats and

melts on her crown.

yes, This is Christmas...
*To be continued.
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