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Sep 5 · 102
after 2 AM the tinnitus of a withering day has abated.
the shrill un-boundaries of our servitude
collapse into auguries seeping
from a perforated moon
like white honey.
all it’s thought
a dot on a creature
made of holes.
stumbling home from a mansion
to a flat.

in a yellow car.
With aphids and cherubs barking up the wrong tree
A November with rain on its mind
clicks a heel in the underbrush, where all things creep
in the ether floss of our lost tendrils of Time
emergent in luminous twine
every stitch, a rivet in a concrete swamp.
tethering a plight.


Christmas lights lockjaw hamlets with crepe frost
glistening earthbound color wheels in the jagged blanket
of a crisp 3 AM. a covert Decembering as such a night
is want to do.

then the gray weeps
as window panes
tell you
Sep 3 · 51
fool on a hill
some fool on a hill, tripping over jupiter spoons
scooping a notion from a wishing well.. foggy and hermit
with a small eye and big dreams drumming on a skintight cloud
klip-sprung from a soft enamel, floating in an iron lung
with too many stars to choose from.

and less than that.
Sep 3 · 56
with the battle joined and my intimacy jaded and clack froth
i merge my pavilions with my valleys, gliding on a ragged stallion
with a wreath in it’s withers… a’gallop in the arbitrary dawn
of my hellscape. relentless as Hope.

like juniper and venison, we intertwine in the hillocks of our faraway eyes
like two marbles adjusting to the stride of an elephant
hoisting the world into all charm and calamity
without a care in the World

On Its Back.
Sep 3 · 49
Terminal Verbosity
A wet Spring slept on the porch
Like a damp **** full of Bees
From Atlantis.
A smudge of bacon
in the velvet air of early morn
and couldn’t sleep anyway.
Lightning; you know
the kind that cracks the spine of your bookworm.
with pendulous Thunder and Furious -

My broken robe draped over the wind
Like a baritone glissando sans a piroette
as i plant my hushpuppies in the other stillness
beneath the breeze… like a petulant
peace, ticking like a

I sip my coffee
to no applause
Sep 3 · 47
Harriet slept to colonize time and space
with her chrysanthemums and cardamon irises
tacked to a wall behind a lens in her eye
rapidly moving through a slumber quest
to pillage the invisible with her wisp of might
to glean the terrace of lost chambers of gnostic grog
in flagons of hubris, spuming at the spicet
of a dervish star in a barrel.

Then she makes breakfast.
Nov 2021 · 168
Drinking My Whiskey Teeth
Third Eye Candy Nov 2021
Drinking my whiskey teeth in the spiral of an unknown maw
Jumbled in my cups, where the thorns parade on ice
And gallons of faraway evaporate like an up close Eden…
My lungs full of aire and radioactive lovesongs
bejewelled in twilight… sink into me like a long groan
of quiet… choking on a scream that paintbrush cannot fathom
nor my prayers recite.
The volume of my sphere, squaring off with my span of years.
Folding space into impractical toys; my rivets, clenched in redwood
And forgotten things, purged by sleepless Time
On a pyre of inflammable
Mar 2021 · 218
Third Eye Candy Mar 2021
On this day, the sun is wane-weary in the mist of an offshore fog-
come ashore and  gumming the works.
It’s a damp light all around
and the foundry of heaven has come to a halt
with one anvil ringing in steam
as Blue retires
from its perch
so the Grey
and the Dawn

but the hawk in my eye is immune.
Feb 2021 · 236
Breakfast At Epiphanys’
Third Eye Candy Feb 2021
War is never Peace,
This occurs to me
over frosted flakes
in my fleece.

My mochaccino-
Chocolate Mandarin
building a Wall
between Awake
and Sleep.
Third Eye Candy Feb 2021
While purging a keg in the afterhours, pondering the smithy of my iron will to dour.
I clutch an unearthed doubloon with my eye-teeth beguiled by the span of ravenous.
Oaken coils of smoke barrel through the haze of indistinct cherubs
With their ***** war-paint and hooligan charms… wilting in tandem.
I join the delirious marmalade of a neighborhood denial
Adrift upon turbulent silences in loud places…. with my manufacture
Organic and tipsy-fizzle with a hoard of uncomfortable

Then a Cab.
Feb 2021 · 241
Third Eye Candy Feb 2021
Living in the City may clip your wings.
But there’s baklava, so….

You pay more to live in a cube
with a longer cube MacGyvered
to a money pit shaped like-
a square.

It’s all the rage
how you are.


When you formally meet your first guitar
you get sunburned.


Now you eat noise and incidentals. like profound Chicklets.
But your shadow’s sweet-tooth is another way to adventure
from your cavities, with sea shanties from False Hope
Or Narwhal hymns in bright typhoons
Like glass lipids
Burning in earnest
Where the sun
Has a brief chill-
In the panorama of
Your undistorted


Like riding a bike
with Imaginary Legs-

That Believe that you
Actually Have
A Bike.
Feb 2021 · 202
A Chip Of Cotton
Third Eye Candy Feb 2021
along the banks of the river; follically challenged scrubbery-
chokes on damp sand and sunshine… cattails etching semaphore
for dragonflies. bobbing in Spring’s spring… like a vibration
on a breeze with clean thoughts and urban widdershins.
the occasional gnat, plastered to a wind shear is often comedy-
as the passerby dissolves in the waltz of a temperament
masquerading as a global warning…

with cold cotton.

she thinks of me
not often.
Jan 2021 · 207
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
When my Calling is Calling
And I fail to answer
The Phonemes…

I’m depressed.

And of course, I must be.
Driven North of my South
By harpies
Draped in flags.
My constant Dystopia
More Terrarium
Than a home for
My bees.

And more Hive
Than any Home
A Dream.

A plush junket
Of close calls-
Where rice patties
Because Prophets
Fail like crops.
And The News
Is just a new Nothing
In Imaginary



But when my Calling is Calling-
And Negotiations have collapsed.-
As foretold by Introspection
And served on a platter
Of Absolute Narcissism
Chained to an Unspoken Woe
In my Achilles Heel-

My Falderal, fumbling
For Unfaltering.s.

I almost digress.


I clamor to the forefront
Of Myself; maladjusted
To Sun spokes.
A Tempered Steel
In a molten
Love hath a Plan
That a Hell

Or a Poem
Made sense
Of It...

Jan 2021 · 125
Noble And Remote
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
In the copse where the green is noble and remote
and my wineskin sings whatever tune
my besotted soul applauds…
As I gather no moss, no stranger to rough canopies.
as there; i serve agendas beyond
my craven absolution
to arrive be-darkened and be-knighted
in the very crescent of my
incorrigible descent
erupting from a tomb of my own making
with a sprig of mistletoe
in a goblet of Sangria
star-struck by
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
Her fennel failed, so it was off to market-
where local lemon squares cartwheel
with kettle corn
as free samples dissipate...
and the business-
of honing in on
a needful thing
becomes the
sepia tone
on a wharf of

with the fog that threatened
the forecast, abated.
the air was gray-yellow
with a new sun cracking mist
as veterans
meander like elk in hoodies
between the fresh catch
of the day
and the venison heart
on ice.

under glass.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
been giving rainbows jumpstarts in grey areas
ever since point blank range became the metric
of a total *****.

And yeah, that **** hurt.

But you can go now and be the perpetual **** mist
on a black fob in a wishing Hell.
And I hope
you do.

but i must account for my many wounds
by giving fewer ***** about you
and Jupiter will always be the bully
your Mercury sleeps with…
unless the hole in your actual argument
is also the enemy of the Point.
but you sand

i clock blind rubies by their dozens,
spinning up red ogres and margarine-
in a sheer toast to our fallen comrades
that had other souls to bargain with
but only our fondest hopes
to herald… even as our slumlord daffodils
deign to embark upon new meadows
where cave ravens steep sunshine mead
in preposterous bogotas.

the faucet of every lake dreamt is a drain,
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
nothing drags a frame of reference out of bed
like a fresh start on a pike.
you strap your business-end to a playful lark
and stave off the broken moons
as you Tetris the Possible
like an unknown god.

I hoist my genre by rote;
my tropes charmed and dangerous…
for the pen is mightier than the fjord
of our most opulent shadows.

My Etch-a-Sketch memories diverge
like Christmas geese
flocking to a pagan potluck
as cellular as a private moment with
a Neilson rating of zero.
I tune in when a gadfly lands on the nose of a spite,
and make a poet’s face.
I sleep like a baby on
the Titanic-
but my average epiphany
bobs for apples
in a bucket
of Northern Stars
too keen on wisdom
for a dullard’s

at first glance, every blank stare
like a horde of eyes
with pitchforks
and torch songs
made of
Jan 2021 · 164
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
as if light had a fist, her eyes were bruised. stormy lipids.
marooned in vitreous witness, forsworn to a buoy
on a blind wave. she had the far away inside her
like an ectopic pregnant pause.
too many Almosts in
the Coulda’ Bins.

where she stashed her hammers, the woodpeckers never say.
but time chips away at the verve of her established implosion
like a verb suffocating a Stop Sign.
and No Exit seems an offramp-

as if darkness had a twin
with the navel of a pin
to hide an angel
from a stitch
in a Prayer.

she had the gravity that floats
because the bottom

And I very nearly spoke.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
even when i lived in barrels i was stung by pre-Euclidean geometries

aping right angles, askew of a laminar flow of Time.
even when i stutter like butter on a lightning bolt
my collisions resolve dormancy
wherever i evict a conspicuous
ascetic tenet.

i twist The End where The Beginning buds;
and watch for spontaneous eruptions-

for Origins, mapped to a powder keg
with a damp fuse.

[ it’s steam engines now… ]

the moon’s belly
is a bright eclipse
clamor-locked in the beastly
barrage of our tuneless
coping with despotic realities
with aplomb; birthing sunshine
from a myth mirror
emblazoned where harm refracts
exact moments-
tumbling magnetic…

as your eyes
Yahtzee the Forbidden
like a rogue.

blunt force
as Fore-


infinity pools are finite if you swim like a rock.
or fall asleep when a lullabies’ on fire.

just so you Know.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
when the constancy of our denouement extends the brevity of our insight
then by trade, our revelations remain on pause.
hint-riddles parlay
between actual dilemmas.. foggy as breakfast
on Venus.

simple as that.

a slow notch in a providence.
a bespoke omen, trumping
a tarot deck-
with a block party hookup
made of glad gardens
of actual touch-
where the emptiness
has no skin,
per say-

but everything
your heart desires
flays a shadow
with a wet

and **** the heathens.

in flat ponds-
are gathering ladybugs
as countermeasures
such espionage,
at the forefront of
every facade.

a feckless
supplicant with a
tootsie roll
begging an owl
to count
a licka’ sense
as the center
of Love’s

to “...bury me with my courage!” I quote a spoon.
Jan 2021 · 75
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
Tucked away in my thermal eclipse, the party raves without my flamboyant
inner monologue. tampering with the DJ on some esoteric frequency..
Everyone is safe to assume the Ecstasy is pure…. but no ones the wiser.
My wallflowers blossom on irrigated stilts, leaning into the background-
of my fraudulent approach from a shy Port of Call.
I Rehearse the Unrehearsable, as throngs cavort in laser spawn shadows
anointed in Eurythmic debauch…
as I spurn my teeming
with a positively gauche

the champion of introverts.

a ton of thunder in a quiet place, where the Dubstep ruffles
the fringes of my agile anonymity…
swiving with soot ravens as liquid
as a Pause in a drop of Time.

I Almost Noticed You despite my Private Life

Then i woke up
In your arms.


Your tattoos like golden calligraphy
galloping across the serrated horizon
where a woman’s heart is the width
of a manly surrender
to a Fantastic… Suspense.

As all my demented departures
Gather Where I Go-
From Zero to Hit Me
In Wine Seconds

We remembered each other when we met.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
As all the pollywogs woggle in the ***** galore
Resplendent in all dawn, as the rising star
Of an off-world dominion. delivers sparrows to sunshine
Hoisting wisteria to the throne of the senses…
Wafting in semaphore, so periwinkle
There are no eyes that may behold
the totality of its gossamer expanse.
the sheer sprawl of a most holy congregation-
of dizzy miracles, draped in ivy and morning dew
deliciously rampant with unbridled blithering
bathing in the rays of a faceless yellow
teeming with butterflies
cocooning no more.

All this in an
open door.
Jan 2021 · 98
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
thunder paws at  the navel of night with cumulus talons
muffled in the coil of moonbeams
stammering lightyears from home-
pooling beneath pebbles
strewn across a broad regalia
of off roads
knitting secrets with spider genius,
bejeweled with enough stars
to avoid lonesome…

and owls enough hoo.

all alone.
Jan 2021 · 127
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
Though it’s little more than a few things-
scattered about
Life continues to bewilder our tambourines.

Winters are longer than whiskers in milk
And Summer has you always in Love.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
I was Black yesterday. Blackity, Black, Black, Black…
On my way to work, with my ***** hair stenciled to my Crown.
I was Breathing like Air was a Birthright
And my shoes slapped the concrete
Like a *****.

Because the Rainbow isn’t Suicide Anymore
I tread where my eagles congregate in perpetual sky-
Above the Ghetto of my familiar rivals...
Soaring in the Raiment
Of a Particular Sun that never casts a Shadow
Where my Brown Eyes kneel.
I see the Light… and unleashed, I strut like a phantom-
Your equal in all things…

However suspect,
When bombs go off
at point blank

Invisible to Cabbies.
Jan 2021 · 158
Summer In Dunley
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
You have too much Stephen King in your knapsack in Dunley.
And something that looks like homework half done
and the bus driver smells like a snowstorm
with polyester eyes focused on your next prison.
king of yellow promises with black stripes.
And the school across town has loose girls with cooties
but they teach you how to kiss and everything’s jake.
You have time on your hands like a **** on a gripe.
And 46 butterflies know your name by heart

because collecting them
was science.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
a dandelion with a crown. the sun.
it hovers in the up above
suspended in perpetual expanse
the darling of our prayers
anointing our cavernous dark
with unprecedented

the way it’s glory is removed
is intoxicating in the least paroxysm
of our motionless spasms of inertia.
the way it hangs ‘ore pavilions
twilit on blast in the void
summing our notions
of an opposite happy
with a subtraction
of an actual

we rise to the occasion with our wits
floundering in the spoils of dead logic
rebuffed by impractical magics-
as savage as a plume
of empirical evidence
that Nothing

we dawn as the sinking
extravagance of our ascent

ginning the loop of so many delusions
it’s a promise we might be Human
After All.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
It’s 4 AM and your skin is soft birch and your pillow indented.
You fume with stillness where your sleep is deep
And almost nothing is as pure as your inner
panorama of noise
Surging uncorked in millennia, as broad as Time’s banquet
Knocking the arrow of sweet slumber
To describe the arc of a falling star
into an open mind.

When you awake, she’s gone. At first you ponder, incredulous.
Then the Season descends it’s tendrils of departure
to ****** your precarious peace from its perch
like rolling thunder over a gasp.
your bed of fails, expansive in the dim pinch
of not enough morning.
just before the sun has mocked your reveries
into the nook of your crevasse
of miseries.

as her ghost kisses
your cheek.
Jan 2021 · 126
La Douleur Exquise
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
when you stay, i assume that god has a plan
and she knows your name.
when you leave, i resume my urchin joy-
delirious with yearning on boil.
i applaud the next day
as you descend to me
to disavow my lonely
with your passionate
Heresies to thwart the gospels
of my Doubt.

the way you always do
when you
Jan 2021 · 153
Where Out Love Is In
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
my hand on your hip like a golden fleece
humming jurisdiction and swaying
to the rhythm of your gate-
too proud to wallflower.
my palm-
where the heat of you
commands my grasp,
and nothing is
so keen
as the thought of our
next encounter
with a private
unmoored from harbingers
of impending
stuck to the forefront
of an absolute

whirling the dervish plums
of our plucky
to stammer free of our bonds
into happier

in love
where out love
is In.

and no wonder.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
our chariots are spineless waves, crashing at the nexus
of tumultuous calm. your light is like a breeze with lips.
I inhale your every atom to my heart’s content.
unabridged. as i span the valley of your wet sun
with all urgency undepleted, and my vigor preternatural
for a shy boy in heaven.

we sing to each other and thistles weep.

I resolve and devote. you spiral and charm
we depart from gravity
to plunge
before thinking.
unkempt hooligans, hurling valentines
at a perfect dark.

we dream of each other and reality bends.

to kiss your feet.

like a god.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
when i need my glasses to find my glasses it’s hilarious
and i have you to laugh with me, with eyes doing cartwheels
holding my vulnerables in your risk-averse, soothing the calamity
of my ambitions with the verity of your love.
i yield the floor to your silent declaration that you will devour me-
come evening… and i serve at the pleasure of your chaste lust
devoted to our collisions, like a pigeon with a thing for windows
with you on the other side.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
Hate is not Theater. But we Know our lines.
Baleful mongers squandering Grace at the behest
Of an Ungrateful Fiction, with Irony’s Teeth
And Doll’s Eyes glaring at the Puppet Master’s strings
To stitch an Excuse to an Impulse
With ancestor hands, chafed by grim and bloodstain
Like windows with dead eyes, locked on a sunset
To best glean the contours
of a Sunrise

At the scene of our every crime.

We know History will not Lie, but our Bibles might…
So we amend our Treaties to serve
The demon at hand. The one that we know.
Slouching quazi-cognizant
In all Splendor, War-Minded and About It.
The Way we lose Our Way
Never Trivial.

The Way We Lose Our Minds

Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
Love is the day your doom is on pause and all gods pray
with tiny hands that nothing harms your everything, and an answer-
swiftly bugaboos the blunder of your courtship
on a righteous sea
where bountiful waves of redemption and wet kisses
cling to the mist in her eyes
like blue snow

Your Humanity
an Unmangled candelabra of astonishing affection
drenched in slow hands that caress the very fabric
of your Universe
with an uproar as glorious as calm in a storm
where a squall should be.

As you ascend into the arms of an open Heart.
Where Two should Be.
Jan 2021 · 67
Midge Twitch
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
Glumping in the runkle of a midge twitch
with a slinky and a serrated rainbow jackknife-
tucked into a barley-cork for daylight
at a full stop...

at Night.

some sort of contraption;
the actual
beating heart of the moon
noteworthy for gazing
at the Fugazi
of our

without a star to pin
to a moon’s compass
however Noon.

Trading on our whimsical affairs, we spice the McGuffin
with a pinch of twee smirk and malicious vermouth.
we gin the rigor of our spiral descent with a debauchery
to span the bloat of our delusions
combing the banks of our foggy creek beds
for applesauce
and farthings.
leaping into the shriek
of our lull.

undaunted by the stars
at the edge
of the

as we pillage

Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
Focus on the signal, for the noise is no pilot.
Adroit convivial despots plot your every demise
but you can’t be withered as
the withering decries.
You must attune where meager suns
do violence
to impose a peace
only conflagration
without setting fire
to a womb.

You must Love the striven grasp of your ashen Heart
Milking the honeyed vein of surety
that swarms of you-
is Unnecessary

but the Whole is a Be
in an Onyx.

Semi-precious to
The Lost.
Jan 2021 · 73
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
If only my every poem jot-
were a happy spot
on a black tie.
But my parties sparkle
with black skies

In the best light.
of my heart’s

A Mood Swing Barony
plush with unobstructed
As i plunder hives
for soft miracles
dazzling a Stoic
With a Circus
of bright
to hound my
gloom, out of mind
and my Love
from the thicket
of a dark

On an Incline.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
Suppose you have your wings
and all wholesome things
As undone gravities
Heavy your suspension
Your downward dog, magnanimous…
As all things; UnThing in Twos-
Where arks at bay,
Nest in wet fumaroles-
Of deep Undoing.

A lemon drop
From an average height
Of your Life
With yellow ravens
Random and Implausible
In inaudible Cause.
Black wings forgotten-
Because Atmosphere
Be nowhere near
The Breath
You Lost…

Just to inhale
Where you-

Jan 2021 · 54
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
Asleep like no other thing, my heart embroiled in wakefulness
i plunder the trivial epics of my disjoint
to gather to a flame more miracle
than a hope
it burns.

Dreaming where the fumes are mute. my lustrous disasters
sprawling like prawn on a lake of fire
dismembered by a remembrance
as vagrant as a horde of precious
where a kept denial
is a fob.
and a wheel is 
another sleep
for a turn.

wings clipped by comets as earnest
as thuggish moons, plundering tides
for their rhythms
to keep the drums of doom
at bay...
as pretty as bone marrow
whistling moo
to a deaf zealot
in the ziggurat of a posh

Asleep, where the aire is bending to the north
of a pinch of earth that dawn squanders on the mortal eye…
i surmise all oblivion in verse
and succumb to susurrus of oblique charms....
moon mad with barking stones in my gullet
foiled by the magma
of my intense

hell-kept in heaven’s mockery
for the lack of an Always
as Perfect as
a Never.

Jan 2021 · 111
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
the chemicals in a sunbeam
beach the whale of my moonshine
your clutch like a happy thorn
and my demise, a misbegotten

you corona.

switchgrass in a dead calm waste
singing authoritative psalms
to my anguish… squishing stigmata
into the plane of flat nails
summoning gargantuan plumes
of happiness, spawn of some witchcraft forgotten
like a pin in a Butterfly
fat on a *****
of hook

that reels the real
to the surface
by your bottom

the crown of our preternatural plumage
is the rake of your windswept karma.
i plunge with you
as we dive
and completely surface
when I sink

to the zenith of your Love.
Jan 2021 · 68
Third Eye Candy Jan 2021
like the chewy center-
of a hard candy
in low orbit
of a toothache
of a toothless

like an obvious mentor
from a hidden college
in stark secret
like mums the word
that sums the word

Speechless and ringing
in the ear-
we loan to Van Gogh
to hear our

and all the timpani of Hope
doing cartwheels
in displeasure domes
that span the width
of our undreamt
and coil-
like a tune in
an afterbirth
of music

Too You to
be Un-
Third Eye Candy Dec 2020
I love you but it’s stupid.

you with your bifocal narrow Mind
and me with my Un-neglected Imagination.

we are not a pair.

but we pair well with peach schnapps
and mistletoe.
well slay beautiful gods
with parasites
and adorn the fulcrum
of our arch
with a silent
too dormant to be
sleep as we know it
and too tranquil
to be anything
than a false start
in an actual

I Love you and it’s tragic.

tragic like how a terrapin is not
a writing desk in a moist raven
spooling thunder where the lightning
forgets to thunder

About You.
Third Eye Candy Dec 2020
I’m humming too quickly for the birds to understand the melodious
and my dank petrol is now a garden fire
with too many roses for a grim
and all the angelic spoils
of Loving You

I am stunned.

Stunned where the sun seldom shines
on a prodigal son.
I self sustain in the swoon
as your embrace defaces
my self-loathing.
and all quadrants of Peace
are mine to gather up
into a spoil

and I am happy to remove
the dark

the span of all my Dreams.

for the span
of all my

Dec 2020 · 124
Third Eye Candy Dec 2020
Lost you in the confluence. In the maze wind.
In the heat of prattle and the garments of Self.
Struck a chord without Notes, and called it Politics
Like a rebel Banshee on a rogue tundra of beach
Thwarting the shenanigans of a polished God.
Lost you in the plethora of Seeming things.
More akin to motes of dust,
Than any Us as constant
As a breeze in Hell-
To cool the troubled brow
of a sinking

but there were ginger mittens, back in the day
and clumps of outsized joy that I recall
like a brisk kismet upon Avon
and unsour shores of shameless Love
bathing in sunlight; the spawn of wet jewels
in an abandoned well of too much Spring.
there was the constant snore
of our sleeping fear… and all the antlers
for a horse you dreamt
and none of the gods-
to oppose our swollen honey,
when storms
eat bees

As personal
as an optional

Love was a gift then.
But now…

It’s a poem.
Third Eye Candy Dec 2020
all the atoms in your paw
are hardly all the atoms.
spring sprung
when the prime mover
gave you a spot
on a dot.

a little more Here
than There,
love spooks the-
the rivets of
a solid wall between
worlds with a grace

a little more near than far
is the sprawl of our prodigious-
escape from the burgeoning
comet of collapse.
at a snail’s pace, The Void
and all counsel
in a parlor
of exquisite

we are the sum of our fears
bundled in Banksy spawn
and cosmic drivel
to match the opulence
of a last glance at a
parlor trick
in real
Dec 2020 · 95
Third Eye Candy Dec 2020
with a sand-weevil thespian mind attuned
to shaking spears before quills
we wage war upon peace with our goons
glinked in grease
to ease the squeak
of our fear, where our gears
grind Hope


and Stars
a Length

" Fini. "
Dec 2020 · 77
Third Eye Candy Dec 2020
Love was completely bald and selling medicines
that often cauterized the weeping
but hardly the bleeding.
It barked in Avenues of more Precious
than your usual yearnings…
and gathered all the mice to knit
a sweater for an empty promise
shaped like a girl
with an Undone Polaris
In love with a Loving Drone
in the Queen’s Oblique
like The Last Rampion
in a Carnival
of a Lost

Sometimes, Love was a Baldwin piano
kneeling paraffin and Arthurian Brass
in a Lake Beyond Fire.
Love had the heat of a jewel
in a Vice Grip… and novel pandemonium
as wet as the sea
at the bottom of
The Sea.
There were no explanations
for the inexplicable
as capable as
the Impossible
for a

we were champions
in Harm’s Navel
And Disarmed.

And The Dark
had a Place

Dec 2020 · 77
Third Eye Candy Dec 2020
Now that the clock has struck a sparrow
from the blue chantry of the sky
and our love lays dormant in the glare
of impossible odds-
and sundry escapades
of ill delights
masquerading as dour crumbs
from a soiled banquet
of delicious noise.
Now that the goat
on the slab
is Us,

Trolling sacrifice for a constant gardener-
howling at the broken waves
of our engineered Sea
of displaced heavens…
having chosen the doldrums of a spoiled
expanse of serene idiocy.
cackling like glowworms
in a nitrous ****
of deleted inhalation.
the wraith of my heart,
disjoined from our forever
like a pinwheel
in a dead calm.


Dec 2020 · 79
Third Eye Candy Dec 2020
in sheepskin and marmalade we palaver and jig our rods in the Nile
but seldom, Our sunspots blighted and the constant barrage of
darkening's become the strobe wafer-thin ramblings
of madmen with catheters for priests,
and Catholics for conniption fits
for faraway kings
to dish about in near-away
parlors of unpolished reality.
Yea! sans varnish and crickets with rickets
and a whole host of dismay, dismayed by gardens-
and a whole menagerie -
an appeal to a constant

receiving a fair bit of the Real on a stick
and a few fairies
in the wing ***** of our falderal  
Nesting in Summers, too keen on Winter
and anointed by the drizzle
of a sumptuous outsized

a dangle in the tinsel of a calm.

half annoyed.
Third Eye Candy Dec 2020
when the snail is asleep and the periwinkles winkle in the brisk twilight of a perpetual undernoon
and the temple of a spherical calamity is a long pause, jostled into real life by your actual demise like a parenthetical parasite, clutching the void between worlds for the juice of a pirate’s
derelict fiction… spawning afternoons in a pond of after-scapes, aswoon to the purpose of too many worlds to conquer in. and too many apples forbidden… just sittin’ around, doing things that don’t-don’t matter like a vibration with the palsy of a wormhole as docile as Vulcan in a Lemon Tree with an Apple Mind.
a pantry pheasant for a brooch is the real life and the cotton you cotton is a bruised remove
at an angle for a snipe and a caustic Sunday, wrapped in levolor blinds that constantly
maraud the perpetual dilemma ever extending, and approach by storm, the Unending Things
that gather in the husk of our sunsets, like boil on a dying star!
our love squeaking through the hinges of our unattended saturnalias…
squandered by leagues of wandering, adept in purpose without form
and constantly gathered at the hearth of our quiet doom
when the snail is asleep
on the moon.

and the moon is awake
like a Moon.
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