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rig Mar 11
& antidotes & books & chapels & dominos & echoes & fountains & galaxies & harps & icebergs & jackets & keys & labyrinths & metaphors & names & operas & puzzles & questions & rainbows & shrines & treasures & uproars & verses & windows & x-axes & yesterdays & zephyrs
rig Feb 15
hillbilly highlight:
thy itty-bitty
jig i did? flip it!
hi, lil kitty! high?
iq ****’d… pity.
(prisioner's constraint: not using any letters with ascenders or descenders.)
whatever this is: the reverse of it, so, only using letters with ascenders or descenders (b, d, f, g, h, i, j, k, l, p, q, t, y)
rig Feb 13
a sea so non-sonorous
snows summers on amorous
rose woven aurora rooms…
on a moon i run scenes as
wars are won over rumours.
see – no nexus. none. success.
zero cameras on me.
prisioner's constraint - not using any letters with ascenders or descenders. basically only half of the alphabet is available, no b, d, f, g, h, j, k, l, p, q, t, and y. also i. i know there's one in the poem. it's on purpose.
rig Feb 11
meg j. chu, f, six-two; qz: park blvd. ny.

wyx, ph: v – strangled iq f/ muck jobz.

clef: vr. zygo-jab w/ u, q-pid, k? thnx sm.

cob jigsaw v. pretz’l funk – my hq x’d.

pangrəm – hub: wolf’d; sticky: j q v x z.
pangram - a sentence or expression that uses all the letters of the alphabet.
perfect pangram - the same but with only 1 of each letter, a to z.
(im)perfect pangram - sometimes i like to cheat, it's fun.
rig Jan 30

+ “sow, sow, sow your coat”
– a frantic clown regime.
+ (“narrowly, narrowly, narrowly, narrowly
– knife all but the cream!”) ...
i hate fascists
Norman dePlume Jan 2016
I am concerned with that venison in America
But the juice is soured.
This weeping as I wanked out of control,
After breaking cross-haired whims,
Galloping backward and forward, ahead the past,
Behind the unfamiliar future,
What were we doing, or were we,
The mattress, the limber of lice, or of loves
We were measuring olives, continually?
A moon soon to be forgiven
In crossed girders of past, hip Brooklyn charcoal
In this peeping that has sized you again?
"The man that can save Poetry" was created 1/1/2016.

Phoebe Seraphine Jan 2015
A violent lullaby. A whole sucker. Even then, quiet.
Water is sororal. Waves squeezing out water. Water, water is a mouth. In its precision, it is so practical, there is no use for tongues or banks of teeth, exact like sea urchins in the mud.

Static. There, precisely that noise. Not at all a tick. Hear it tucked in the tide. Observe its shape, observe what it does to you.

Feel it all at the beach. Feel it in your sleep.

A slight brine, a wet resonance, trinkets of sand under callouses.

Still, aqueous static. The water is a python, a monster puzzle, a heavy choking, an oily fruit. Florida sinks beneath the waves.

— The End —