im the cold thing
no van full of legs
no passed skin
  . v unfortunate

Japanese beer in the snow

sung longer lungs. bromide cut
sun sought - sight asunder
save for later slaughter

smug ****, of
var.
necromancies .
push-pin, him

he who swims,
he who begins
with pointing out the
wet opacities of the
        churning
        sky-sack
inside which, we are
tossing
like a baritone rumble-**** of dreamfood.


all garnet and dark, now.
all garnet and **** dark .

threshold thrum thrasher
belly waster
a
water gun kind of hurt

grooves grip
the road and wet
                     fistfulls of brainmatter
schluffing-off
idiosyncrasies
like a culling of
outside voices
in
favor of
deadguys in sunglasses

ditch-skid kid
doing what he’s told and
following directions

to the

late stage coopt of corporate agile cultists,
usurpers of the diverse paths of our futures,

the human condition is
a
temporary
inconvenience

in pursuit of a new and truncated eternity


CLUTTERED rooms full of minimalist art-objects for the unconstituted mind