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Third Eye Candy May 2013
14 minutes ago
i used you to get  sleep
and the worry of our tundra
is more cry than a sorrow
is a nothing now.

you bleat and trill in the smoke of an endless night.

i saw you  yearn for the ' right now '
and never had so much You
as I do right now

like a sunburn in my " what the hell  ? "
Third Eye Candy Apr 2015
pray for blue lemons and you'll discover
the limits of your religion.
dance in a viper's den
and your wounds
will not remember the steps.
or the fool.
Third Eye Candy Sep 2020
It’s 3am plus,
and if you listen to the mice,
you may decipher their bedtime tales
and learn a great deal about Owls
and why they hide their
names in bones
to have something
to “WHOO”.

Then you might fall asleep.
Third Eye Candy Nov 2012
your warm lungs are 7413 words
crammed into free thimbles of loose change, as inevitable as loving you
for no reason. you keep the summer squash in winter's balloon;
where the ice speaks.
fire is our way
of life -
dying to mend fences
with barbed
no matter how soon.
it gets prior.

all that.

and nothing more would be too much.
but no worse.
an hour of outlandish joy
with all the

7413 words.
and none among them
the whole  

for certain.

i think.
Third Eye Candy Sep 2018
it's like the ghosts have all the notes
for all the holes in all the harmonies
a harbinger marooned between an echo
and a living thing.

love is like a nest of all vanishing birds.
just a cusp of abandon and sky.
Third Eye Candy Sep 2011
ripe fruit unconfined to the width of fruit

frightfully absent-minded of it's metaphor

burgeoning with sweet to burst-

...’The slowest devastation of a perfect sphere.

Bloated in the sun

at the peak of yes

a trifle to a god; and everything He meant.

the raw sub conscience of Love Itself.

Forest olde and valley wide

heeps of time upon time in a bramble of lush

vast with green enough to burst

...the joyous vegetation of a perfect world.

Garrulous in the sun

at the peak of yes

a testament to god at His first attempt.

the sheerest genius of Love

Third Eye Candy Jun 2018
He used to run with scissors
Now he creeps with a sharpie pen
To keep canaries in suspense.
And that beats a coal mine.
Cause up close…. It’s almost personal.
He can almost feel it
in his enigma -
Like a holy ghost
Trying to kick.
nobody knows
The deal with
the shoebox
Full of sharpies
And all those
black canaries
Not to mention
Duct tape.

He keeps his griffins on a leash
And he can’t seem to sleep at night.
And He can’t even tell
if it hurts…

But he loves the way
That it's so easy to fake it.
And how anything
is possible
if everything
Third Eye Candy Feb 2014
if the brand new day is more elsewhen
than the right now...
find your joy
and jump for it
when the Earth is more small
than the gravity.
when the simple thing
is more gone
than an apparent dream
where the caste is a husk
of no thinking.

drink fear and be done with it.
sour your oats
and bring the sea to your fathoms.
be one with the ghost
of your mad madness .

be glad at your march
into rude sadness.

be one with your never
as completely
as you dive

darkly. as

As Ever.
Third Eye Candy Oct 2012
It was 4am and snow
had fallen silently for hours
leaving a thick blanket of marshmallow skin
draped over  all, and silence reigned
like a wise emperor whose subjects slept
without fear of Timpani.
Trees were over- burdened by drift
and bent like old men,
they stood
where their seedlings had taken root
centuries  before villages
up from the valley
to squat among them,
bringing chimneys and children,
women and  men,
and all their
It was late
and stillness shimmered
in moon-glow and cedar musk.
frozen stars,
all around
mounds of them
as gentle winds
plowed through the natural  world
sweeping smoke from rooftops.
Giant owls; Their wings
cupping the elemental
patrolled pillows  strewn about
the star chamber
of all Gods...
  Up where an omnipotent Love
dreams on and on about giant owls
and how from here, the  owls were gods,
patroling the nursery
of new gods.
Owls were floating in warmth,  that had been
crushed into something
it  had never suspected,
they were Owls
that kept the riff raff
the perfect moment
for gods to catch some  sleep...
they make it so
As Owls
too small too comprehend,
the vast Love
that loved them...
even so
a majesty was theirs
if not a mind that could have known - and not
unravel from the effort
of such Understanding
They were
  savagely  beautiful
in all their oblivious fulfillment
of the creator's plan;
they were
  wearing crowns
without burden...

At 4am, the mice below the frozen stars that fell overnight were in there dens  with uneasy sleep tickling their whiskers. Those mice out of sight of The Plan's Predator, unseen in the dirt  pouch under rich soil and snow, The lucky ones continued to be blessed. The gods were sleeping... and they all  loved mice... So at 4am, the mice below the frozen stars that fell overnight; they received all access to another  day on earth... they enjoyed the consequence of Love's action, for owl eyes were denied cute things to look at but  saw everything else. And beaks ... Well....
They would go wanting.
At 4am, all Mice who prayed for windows never got windows at all.
And the first snowflake to ever have a Red dream
was later made a prophet.
Third Eye Candy Apr 2013
my lungs are not my lungs....
they belong to the wrong air of our winter's jest.
at best, we peruse the hush of our dormant lust
and gather twigs for our empty nest. you might suggest, but i demand
an answer to our star fall. to stall the heavens long
to briefly glimpse the shorthand of god's script
to a play that has no favorite in the scheme... only
the ravings of an infinite dream
about snow.
Third Eye Candy Feb 2017
I'm about to be done

swirling down the drain.

And I'll march

to a Harpy's tune

to better fetch

the limits of my ungrateful



I am dust driven and water mad

but you are the ghost

with most sad.

The thunder in a snowflake

bleeding the landscape

for a farthing.

A pound for a pound

in an ounce of grief. Now That is the Curse.

The worst word in the ear

of a deaf mute

at the Opera

of your

Third Eye Candy Sep 2017
when you lead with your left
all you have left, is the right thing to do.
and even that can be arbitrary.

you may approach the bench
but the bench will press you -
against any falsehood

where the ornament is a winged siren
above the headlights.
Third Eye Candy Jun 2013
is a wisp of flame in the wind
that feeds on a perfectly pointless joy
a boy and his fog
on a reckless trek
through the Eye of a Noose
at the end of a rope
with no one but the devil
to enjoy how you swing
without a bat..

and that’s the Joke.

Love is the love-child
of Hate and a Thread of Hope
Snagged on the knife
in your back. Where They-
left it.

There’s a draft,
but that’s only the Hole
in your life
catching Hell
in it’s

No Hands.
Third Eye Candy Sep 2011
As I was born under a New Moon; I am always given pause by a mad flush of stars, deserted in abundance, piercing the ruby throated dusk; uncollided, a blush of dead fizz still very much alive...And I would touch it... ~ touch it
damning rainbows to neglect and torrential rains
basking in sunshine ~
but not mine...I am pondering heaven now
and how
it fits in your palm.
How everywhere a shadow walks, the stars shine
right behind it.
and no one finds a single flaw.

i am the alchemy of distilled spirits.Spirits abducted by Ruin-
that has such beauty,
your weeping would reveal, the very name of the villain.
And exactly how you got this number
in the first place.

Again, that was then... and This is how we love each other in a black room with our mouths sewn shut; typing riddles in plain English that fall upon an Eye's Ear... an alien braille of goosebumps in a vacuum at my fingertips, tapping keys that build doors Between
that lead to this very place.

The keys had to come from some where, ?
but we're not thinking about that
right now.
Third Eye Candy Mar 2019
a butterfly was asking for pennies on a bookshelf
as dusty as a mummy.  i was absentmindedly
threading tea leaves
with sharp snowflakes and
milkweed silk.  freehand…
with a Needle made
of Eyes.
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.
Third Eye Candy Feb 2017
Surrender Dorothy,

your Socrates
from a lost
sock...or a

with two
loose buttons
for eyes
and two loose eyes
for nothin'.

and with
a chipped tooth
in the broad smile of a worm...
as your glorious
prize !

threading a hook
in the grey impossible
like a dull




Let us cling to the market place of shallow ideas.
there, we can march to the county fair
and display our swollen feet
to the clergy of the


Let's glow like ants in a cave... that glow.
For the Cave is dark and full of errors
that correct our course napkins
to the crease of our mouths
as we swallow
the limit.


Do be the one that saves me from
the myriad angels that love me
Be the wanton Mercy at my bed, come -
from a dire hope to a better


Be the last thing I see as a threat to my anguish
and the first thing I believe in
to claim
Third Eye Candy Dec 2012
pour your aneurysm into my palm and i will love you so hard
be glad. this love is nothing more than tremendous, however
you might have Doric columns, where i have Ficus
but you're a ***** stone, a-swarm with ivy
a mind reading astronaut
i ought

and a
Third Eye Candy Apr 2016
Leaving the windows open
and the miles the same
as black waters curl
between our southern toes.
The long way to you
is engorged with short speech
and our blathering tongues
well versed in ******

We are not without design.
but we assume the worst, regardless...
farm our beetles to the sticking place
and etch firebrands in orchids
lording over under-frost
and deplorable

we grieve as we ****** shame
from the wick of burning candles...
at both Ends.
our every scandal, more luscious
than desolation would have
Us both.
we choke on the plumes
of our disconnect
and close our

And leave again
Love's Ghost.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2019
now that i cannot choose… i choose a choice.
an abbreviated me has long been not enough.
my inner Kafka, a lag of butterfly thoughts.
i seem to drift obedient to the wave
of my honest lust.
but return always, to something
i cannot touch.

I am a cold piece
of me…. and my friends
are not friendly.
eager to **** my want
as I want more
than a lasting oblivion.

they omit my dream.

but i am all the while
some other beautiful

dying out loud.
Third Eye Candy Jun 2014
in the park where squirrels peep and gibber
and the grass is brown, where the green died brownley...
there's a mark
on the world -
where we never fetched turtles
or lay languid in the shade,
but a place removed
and a day

i see your charms as a heap of bleed.

and i forgive you all I give for ...

but i mark this place.

i brand it and sear my name
in the flesh
of our fresh regret, and stammer
in the sunshine
of our irredeemable

the suns
that moons mock
and orbits abandon
to get on with the business
of sleeping through
a dream.

and you approve.

and i remain

like a withered fruit
Third Eye Candy Nov 2016
My lungs ***** at the air
As i plunge from sleep into the upper dream of waking life.
I shed the formality of my shallow coma
For the desperate climes of my striving ,
And surge the beach of lonesome
Brigadoons... Combing the frothy litter
Languishing along a stretch of forbidden

I assume the sand castles are unassailable
And write letters for a bottle
In my mind.
And cork the
Third Eye Candy Feb 2016
At Depth
Only Love can breathe
and make more

Any word that
says it all

Made you...

Made You
Out of Echoes
when the Universe
had no walls
and no
idea who
was always tossing stars
over the Fence
and never asking
for them

but that
was when the Universe
was young
And believing in Fences
was nuts

You were -
made from Echoes
that Understood the Mind
Of The First

from echoes
happy to discover
where all the stars
had landed.

Stars thought

Stars, the neighbor's only child -
From an Unimaginable

over our Precocious

into my
Third Eye Candy Nov 2016
My symbols are fluid now
Here , where my days ahead are less than
The many days I've left behind.
Chains are broken and knit into my wrists
As i reach for the stars bespoke my Zodiac
I summon a swarm of loose ends
That begin with Me
And cherish everlasting, the long braids of Summer;
now derelict in the shadow fallen-
Coiled into mortal frames
Resting on fishhooks
Above the pantry of my feast
Of Hours.

I long for the turn of the *****
And the hothouse Orchids of my dim horizon.
The carnal hope, throbbing in my skull
As i awaken the giants i have slain
For their off wit and plain speech.

I return to the calm in my cliffnotes
That capture the purity of my bewilderment
And the honest scope of my Heart.
I go wherever the charm is broken
And mend the Angels there
That have fallen.
I choose to Live. And serve the Dust
A Cup of Sea.
Third Eye Candy Jun 2014
when we met, it was tipsy tuesday and donnie had swollen fingers
and nate sank into his plaid frock and dropped his shadow
on the patio like a heavy slug, and the flies
cavorted in the vortex of our subtext
as the night skies spat stars
at our foreheads.

you were beautiful;  too beautiful then.

i was smitten, i was tossed on stormy seas, unsick.
i was healed. the world spun filth and dull glamour
but your face hurled fireworks
and my mind leaned into my heart
and i knew i loved you.
whoever you turned out
to be.

i babbled and groped, as the inertia
of falling, filled my sails
and I was purposefully adrift -
in your brown-black eyes;
as a dog fetched a frisbee
for an illiterate.

and i think i bit my lip a bit.

I saw you for the first time.
for the last time
in my life
and was never
the same.

my heart, now more precise.

you had fierce speech
underneath your sweet speak
and long hair.
i had you in my soul's yurt
on a plain of windswept pavilions
with free horses and costly
i was ' there ' less
and more somewhere else
alone with the perfect you
reading my lips
as they tremored
delight of it.

i babbled speechless.

i remember you tossing your locks
at my cage. and i was set free.

please add me to your wishlist
and complete me.
Third Eye Candy Jun 2013
we mortgage the unspeakable. we fit small bowls into big ones and speak on misdeeds
that rhyme with chrysanthemum without the letter ' M '.
from an upside-down star

weaving cauldrons of unguarded hope
jiggling in the gelatinous yammering
of a misguided baby god's night terrors  

and you still gotta go to work in the morning.

and for sleep. what's that ?
Third Eye Candy Mar 2020
burning again in my Asian diaspora, solemn as a coin in a fountain
dreaming of a well. i sleep where slipping into something is more
cloak than adventure… suturing the wound that tomorrow brings
with a thread of hope…. combing the bottom of the sea.
i eat all the hammers that an anvil resents.
i awake on the beach with a blue coconut lodged in my desolate wings..
with so many phantoms i can hardly cross swords
with the moon -
too busy slipping into constant joy piracy
and the palaver of my grim adjustments
to the common explode.

these lights that i’ve knit into black coins are real lights
and the sun knows the darkside of a simple prayer is more like a moth enthrall of a neutral calamity.  
there are no kings where a queen
is stitching harm into a canvas of woe. only the indolent pearls
of our most dire pavilions, marching into flatlands
as comical as a flat spoon.

you have summer on your face but can’t seem to simmer down
to a long pause made of brief encounters with sunshine and moon dander.
you’re always coping with the malignant Always
atoning for imagined sins… but spinning out of orbit
to align yourself with a nether world
of plush toys.

gems spoil in the dark.
and you know this at your core.
when sleep comes easy
you remember your name
like a dimmer switch
how to
Third Eye Candy Mar 2018
with my fairy tales exhausted. i had my wits about me.
like huffing glue on real problems.
the sticky-wickets and whatnot.... that gather through me.
like a trojan-horsehair medallion -
at the end of a rope. Or a ray
of  " No ".

A Spot of Bother that May Be Scotch -
Or Maybe Not... but the rot boggles.
the way decay and Seasons agree on everything.
how you can't stop writing letters
to imaginary patrons
and lost mice.

' awake '  is a maze
in a deeper sleep
and i wonder...

then i wonder
some more.
Third Eye Candy Nov 2018
The air was old in the long house by the beach.
You could tell by the way the ocean spray had diminished
replaced by long-dead fireplace breath and the scent
of skin gasping for rain.
There was always dust on the cobwebs now.
Books strewn about like leather-bound pistachio shells
and a rumple of pillows beneath a lump of blanket -
teeming with troubled sleep…. all frumped by the window
with the moons dead eye. and the sound of wave after wave --
Third Eye Candy Mar 2014
on a good day
the ice is cutting your feet
but it looks like you're -
walking a seabed of roses
and red bells
shivering in silver molasses
and your far away eyes
seek oblivion and
but you can't think
of anything
to dream.

on a bad day, you can't smoke scotch
so you drink it. you burn matchsticks
and croon lunacy with thick lips wishing
and rude plumes of an ash life.
you can hardly bark, but your bite's slipping
and the fruit is straw and dung
but the sugar,  black
in the white
Third Eye Candy Jun 2018
The Fox Saw The Grapes
And Thought…
“ If Grapes Were Rabbits -
   I wouldn’t be talking
to myself “
Third Eye Candy Jul 2017
when i felt time had sloughed off the grime of all minutes
i searched for all meaning, and came upon a deck of cards
floating in the ether, a shuffled deck... and a pair of tweezers
to tease the splinter from the mind's eye
just sitting there, on a book stand
next to a boston fern.

it was when i found a place i could not hide from
and occupied the the nooks and fissures of my actual being
that i came to know the fathoms of deep love
and shuttered to think upon my blindness
as an afterthought
about Nothing.
Third Eye Candy Apr 2018
Agatha Abernathy slapped clay on a wheel and spun with her bare hands all manner of things to hold in your mind. She slept through thunderstorms as if a storm front were a blanket. There was no such thing as too many cats; and marmalade was a condiment.

Agatha had nothing to say.... And nothing to keep to Herself.
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 2016
the snow is only time clinging to your boot
trudging through the havens of your grave mute lips
plump in the weather 'round these parts
where the hearts bloom like troubled bees, and naive art.
while on farms, a dozen lambs
can't spell " slaughter "
with a " Baaa ".

but we have only so much snow.
red or white.
glistening on either side of the narrow mush
weaving through woods that remain nameless
but keep their twilight blushed.
we rush through the trivial adornments of the everyday
like heathens huffing ether,
but keep our scarecrows petrified of blackbirds
having heard the caw of wise raptors
in the fields of all flesh
and unnatural

but a friend...

a friend
is a ghost running down
with you.

running... where your rivers have blood enough
to ***** the sun -
but never a

a ghost with the mind of a moon.

it wanders the shadow fields
of your distress
with your hand in a kissed

you blunder together
so what comfort comes from sharing
doom or bliss -
comes without harm or hell.
a ghost running down,
comes up to you
and you both emerge
from low.

and Love never doubts
you do.
Third Eye Candy Mar 2013
the farmgirl with the green flecks in her anime eyes
is snoozing in her van. it's afternoon and she's lost her ruby slippers. she knows not where.
she charms the water fleas with her clean teeth.
she gropes through the ampules of her ample *****. where her heart is like a fox and hound.
in a glass forest. the otherwise, warm porridge is the cruel gruel of her next poem.
she gnaws on the nape of her next unborn. the naked rube of her snipe hunt
on a night with no moon.
she doesn't mind either.
her kites fly, un-flummoxed in the effulgent. unchained in the Quixote of our windmills. distilled
by charcoal fences. a net of screens, nimbly deployed across the hinterlands
of our possibilities.

now " who could that be ? "

agnes is calling and i know she just wants her computer fixed.
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 Sep 2017
This kind of dead, lives.
It lives with the humiliation
you insist upon.
But now, you have to deal with me.
You have to acknowledge
that I Loved You.
And this will not be easy.
For you fantasized that I
Had been utterly defeated -
Or was low born as other men,
Too caught up in my groin, perhaps...
But weak, nevertheless.
Or that my shallows had no depth.
You were convinced -
That servitude was a symptom
Of my puppet disease.
But now...
I leave you at the mark upon my Soul.
The very envy of Cain.
Because I can die for something.
But yet remain.

You can only **** me once.

But I can leave you
Third Eye Candy Jul 2015
suite of banks and
coffee shops
nudge the boundaries of
tattoo parlors
and the arduous task of a
full stop -
A fool's errand on a
dog's collar.
or the epiphanies of a has-been
at full Not .

better vacuum
than love without words
but a lesser emptiness
than love

and a word.
Third Eye Candy Jan 2017
the hush of snowfall resounds
and morning comes on a plinth of cream fire
over white shoals of winter's aspen
and a platoon of black oak, heavy laden
with pillows of opal dust,
the crisp air dangles from your breath
as you come upon a raven's ink plumage
resting atop the crystalline wave
frozen in swell; more akin to the sea
than to the earth bound diorama
more of a ripple than a discrete patch
of sugar at your feet.
holding a black wing
to a promise.

and a kiss is debris,
Third Eye Candy Feb 2013
we stroll the orchard
where grapes prune
and apples dutch
the burgeoning ****
of our memories...

we remain shimmering in true dusk. there
on the cusp of inscrutable lust and the chaste rabies
of a sliver of first bone
with tornado lips
and cotton

we cajole our misfortune,
and rise at noon; without laughing -
we ****** our hags from the raven
that feathered our cap.
we elapse with the dead
in the basement of our rendering.
a little ahead of ourselves
or dead, no matter what.
the orchard glooms a demise
in the calm tourettes
of our syndrome...

both alone in the teeming all-spark
of our glorious sundering...
our Mondays say less than
our Present Day -
and a yarn of plight and sunstroke
gropes at the  barb
of our bee stung

we chide the withering
for all the Withering -
and all the good
it does....


we wrath glide the plum

then have at Life.
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
Third Eye Candy Jun 2013
On your laurels rest
The waning harpies of Oblivion
The rude flock
Preening Sorrow from ash.
And Bone Lips click
Their vicious riddles
Into the Deaf Charybdis
Of your God.

Born Again
Out of the Wasteland
Your every phantom
Marks time
And only the fickle joy of surrender
Defeats the tedium of breathing...

Where you Are....(Strange feasts Unfurl)

Upon dead tongues
that speak of It
Never as kind.

You remember Honey
As if in a dream.

All desolation, Glory-
Yawning from
Third Eye Candy Oct 2012
keep this.
it's yours. you might enjoy the rambling brook with both toes.
we can't sleep now. this is how jailbreak is ****; Salomon's Mines, all yours.
say what you will. i got you. relax and configure
the dark nook of my profile...
come at me at an angle, and i'll arrive untethered; coping with real ****
stitching heirlooms to re-breathers... pinning neon
to your gold tooth.

all dribble. no bib.
just an avalanche of weightlessness, jamming signals. a sumptuous void,
undulating in indefinitely... keeping me sane and losing my things.
in ivory towers of strange radio
this is eclipse....

gone nova.
Third Eye Candy Feb 2017
nothing rapturous but the weight
her life affords me, as i lift it
without effort, to a place above
the dormant and the gifted.

nothing wholesome as the tongue
she proffers sweetly to my lips
that find her luminous aplomb
ignites a wriggle of my hips

nothing dangerous but the shapes
her limber form unfolds and frees
a team effort to escape
the dullard limits of our knees

nothing as intimate as the truth
her words wring deftly, warm and young
and we vanish into slumber
with all love done
Third Eye Candy Mar 2019
all of a sudden the sails were empty-limp in the tepid sea of ever yawning soliloquies.
lurched into stillness by an angry god snoring through the movie. your eyes bark at the moon
on an atoll of unbearable enigmas, but ever startled by the calliope of your Heart’s Desire’
at the very peak of your weakness. It thooms! like an iron lung in the dark
alone with an impossible star. Like a daisy in a marathon.
or a clock for a spoon full
of “ why?”.
Third Eye Candy Jun 2020
all of my thumbs pinch the sun
and the moon remains a cloud.

i have too many aftermaths
but always another lost cause.

these flowers keep blooming
no matter what.

you love your exile
or you Live until
it’s worth it.
Third Eye Candy Aug 2020
my golatha is mewling in the fringe. lemon rinds polished.
my credenza dust-laden and perfect. like an old promise in moon gingham.
and all of this conjures a portable god and a night kingdom of uproarious gunthers
plundering the under-whim of our daily crisis
by loving the pitch of the sea.
and siren wishes-

all of this twice and again the world in which to fathom it.
our astute breach of contract, expanding into quadrants of unanswered questions
with all the panache of pandering, to a blush of summer on a ghost’s lips.
all of this always. like a concerned amnesia in absentia. open mind adjacent to a constant door… and a bronze myth.

Third Eye Candy Oct 2012
We pantomime our sumptuous dirge

That has never known a chord without novas

Or a Nocturne of phrase

Charmed into glissandos

gilded as galaxies

of gossamer, awestruck Thought...

And now

These Arias are all of Us -

Phosphorus Dirth-worms

In dead white apples

In a Cave.

Our elusive orchestra

Polished by ambient clay

To gleam forsaken

and redeemed

Has often curved the flat space

Between The Mystery

And No Church -


And the melodies


The delicate heresies of Love

That you make

With your bare hands

And our separate Hells'

Are but one Heaven

The Devil has to See

To Believe.
Third Eye Candy Apr 2013
we leave by passing through.

by outlasting      

by grooming   deep runes  
like arabian

mountainous   [ pontoons  ]
spine crack

of soft doom

and true Orchids...

the ******* aftermath of covenants
at half mast

a limp flag of jolly rogers


dull noggins.

we pass through,      phantom roosters

in the Bedlam....





our blood has new boots
and now our hearts
can Mussolini

{ you strangle The Headless Horseman; as i lust for your Ichabod   }

no cranes.
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