their spines are straight -
two different trees in two different woods.
people like them are not meant
to come face to face.
is this the first time the distance between them is silent?
emptied of political din, hoarse
shouts of protest in market squares,
flags unfurled not in love for a country
but in hate for the other.

are enemies still enemies when they are of the same space?

the two girls recognize
that their hair curls in the same way.
they don't reach out to touch
but a curiosity forms a thread between them.
a thread. their fingers tingle, flutter
spooling and unspooling
this new connection, this new thread.
their eyes swing like pendulums.
how new, how strange to breathe
in air that is clean of artificial hate.

they are curious, spooling and unspooling.
what will happen to this thread?
for threads are too easy to break.
and each knows the power of governments,
their ability to dangle them
then break
and break and break.

the two girls wonder. the two girls stare.
they look. they look and look.

but their spines are straight -
two different trees in two different woods.

Hell shimmies when I am blunted ;
When I take a knock to the senses
When I am skinless,
singing stings
and misdirected by pain

If I had trained better
I'd be deep sea
Sussing distant messages
Operating with slight tremors, vocals and movement
and only when correct...
I'd be home
I'd be instrument

Not an act
Not a pet to society
No mood fool ;
flaked,
flooded
and littered
Rapped at by experiences
Attack reacting
An embarrassment
Watching my own pattern spooling
the same sums
and spoiling with repetition

I saw her softly combing her chestnut hair
Each motion like parting smooth ocean waves.
I had to know her and how she behaves.
Yet my heart filled with terrible despair.

My friends told me to turn back,
but I braved the restless sea.
I seem to have a knack,
For finding any key.

I found her reading my favorite book.
She was delighted to know I knew it.
Nothing was more obscure than our love,
for a writer more obscure than his peers.

I dreamed of her every night
her passions warm
our victory right;
in either
dorm.

Every meeting with her I carried
my fantasies: a shell eclipsing the
very truth I failed to see, or so they
said of my nights' shameful proclivities.

We shared our hearts like pastries,
devouring one another's
thoughts until we
knew the taste
by rote.

Of course, we were so engorged upon the
fictions of our authored lives that something
had to be real; had to be tangible
beyond mere spooling tales wagging to tune.

Ignited like a forest fire was the lust coursing through us and
in gleaming moonlit fits of ravenous lips and tender bits
our bodies danced in only so many ways two
chiming instruments can rattle the soul
knocking and injecting essences
to quench the flame that
can never ever be
quenched...

Oh, Lord!

I lay there breathing wishing to die in
the moment I knew I loved her that I
may immortalize the knowledge thusly
ending potential doubt and teeming lies.

A month later, we were still burning and
alive and burning alive but we don't
threaten our haven, we just consider
ourselves lost in a wonderland of ***.

Then a man, a few years my senior came,
and he wanted words, he felt entitled.
He felt entitled to her, her mind, her
body, her genius, her love and her ***.

A month later, at a bar back at home,
I saw it all too clear and regretted
ever knowing her, ever loving her
every succumbing to the ***: that drug.

She's somewhere now, loving him, because he was entitled;
his name was on her history, in her language, on her
books, in her mind, on her, in her, every time
I thought it was just me, he was there
dancing with her, holding her
my hand was a ghost
all along.

My darling portends the end of an era,
but my life began with her and that soft kiss.
My darling portends a life of searching for,
cure to a heartbreak that mends with further pain.

(Words once dedicated to beauty have become a scream of true hideousness. This truth is your damning, filthy beast of a panther).


I wish I could forget your face

Tell my stupid heart the rot underneath your skin

Our laughter shared was only a tool

The words spooling from your mouth spider silk I coveted


The heat and solid muscle of your body

A comfort until your hands discovered my body

Creeping across to touch and hold steady

Teasing the edges of my underwear

Finding the soft coarseness of ***** hair


Hold me close, be my protector, my champion,

But all you’ll ever be is a predator


Your friendship and my wanting of you stripped me down

I stayed still

Let you touch and rock

Hoped you would stop

Remembered another body that pulled and pushed mine


I wanted you I will not deny my hunger

But I wanted you to want me as a person, as a partner you loved

Not a possibly sleeping girl who you could ******

A girl who you could take from whatever you wished


Did you find my rejection a challenge?

Get excited that your fingers might be the first inside of me?

What would you have done to me?

Would your fingers have been followed by your ****?


Why would you violate me, Hercules?

But you don’t deserve that name anymore

You’re a bright flower that rots from the inside


No, you are washed of your name

Your hair knotted in between the fingers of my fist

I relieve you of the weight of dignity, cut you of all strength

You’ve frightened me with what you could have done – were willing to attempt

You’ve betrayed me of my trust and affection


I want you to pay

I want you to answer me: why, why, why?

Why would you do this to me, Jacob?

Something about gunfire.
Somebody says religion.
It’s an opportunity for the TV
to screen the same scenes,
the blinking blue and reds
of a bevy of cop cars
and the spooling headline
that assumes, then confirms
the worst.

And so strangers from all corners
spew their pennies’ worth
like bees fumbling for honey,
thousands of hypotheses
replete with exclamation marks,
the name of a Floridian city
swelling as a violet bruise
in the aftershock,
plunged into uninvited limelight.

The chief claims a ‘lone-wolf’ attack,
a man who loathed rainbows
then wiped his own life.
Talk swiftly turns to guns,
the increasing frequency
of wicked bloodshed,
the how, the why, the ‘this day and age’
and ‘the world isn’t safe’
and the nothing, still nothing is done.

Just one night before,
another tragedy,
a young singer shot
while signing their name,
fans left to clasp
the musical remnants
of a life snatched away,
the acerbic word ‘******’
in a nonsensical second.

Something so horrid
became something so common.
How many more gunshots
must shatter a night?
How many more families
must crumple like newspapers
peppered with headlines of the recently lost?
They are asking for answers.
We wait for them to come.

Needled fingered hematologists prepare our dinner. Her name, Mercy, all body candy, tattooed with a snake ****. Her ******* pierced with rose paved sparkles and ******* stabbed with bat shaped studs. Nurses sharpen knives while quack doctors tend to little plastic dolls and blood bathers with crossed femurs in hospital beds where they are cultivated as condiments. Between the umbilicus of limbo, and the theater of cruelty the rational world remains a derelict void. Welcome are hallucinations that abolish reason, that give meaning to blood shot gazing eyes beyond the limits of sanity, where madness cannot be opposed in a world of tug a war monsters and gods. Lyrical voices of demons shoot through Mercy's nerve membranes, while a marching army of squat shadows move like flames in a vacant lot of burning violets. Monsters groan. A snake head eats its own tail in graves of scattered voices and speechless tongues. Arteries pulse vermillion, naked and wanton waiting to be pierced for sanity's release in a lyric of dread's desire. A tidal force lifts a dirigible from hell in a fountain of blood while Jesus has a cheeseburger moonstruck in torn *******. A spreading bride dissolves hoop-armed around a formless shadow hallucinating her beloved killers foot stones kiss. Mercy Kneels on the Dias subserviently. She is sumptuous and a willing betrothal in a gauzy white gown. Happily, headed for death, she disrobes and centers herself on the long knotty table spreading wide smiling, as if a performing dancer, a naked contortionist in a shadow that flickers. Her knees bent to her chest, ******* heaving, her red rose toes pointed, feet arched. She is ready for the final churning and dispatch. Vampires with moonish eyes crouch on all fours like ancient bushman with black wings like hovering capes to eat her with little teasing bites and licks before kissing hisses and insinuating their bifurcated tongues followed by needling punctures that look like spider holes with reddish volcanic mounds and a leaking web of blood rivulets on her pink primrose pudenda "blood on a sugar cube" mouths, feeding mouths, feeding mouths, licking each other's claret tongues mixed with foot kissing adorations and pinkish toes red blooms and  mad mumblings about the grace of Satan while burning black sabbath candles and incense, uncrossing themselves in cosmic Goetic rituals during devotional masturbations and copulations to give thanks and pay homage for fear that their god would take their girl away, their lovely girl food dressed in hemoglobin crystals, their sweet bleeding lover at fangs point, their peaches and cream, robe of blood and starve them.
Vampires are like the rest of us, hunger always wins, hunger for beauty, hunger for love, attention and shelter, hunger for every ******* thing. The vampires wept tears of gratitude licking torn sumptuous flesh like wild cats on the Savana. The pain of their bites excited Mercy, oh it hurt so, while they filled blood goblets of her, weeping and tumbling downwards in her honeymoon crypt like a spooling galaxy as they ate her belly, throat, eyes, and **** with their switchblade kisses. Mercy drugged on ketamine pushed passed the unendurable limits past limitless pain, like a burning witch laughing thinking in fractured clouds, and hot *** heaping ******* at the site of her depraved condition before sinking into an impenetrable dark water labyrinth of death. Her lips glossed black, the color of the grave, her hair dyed red and purple, her thighs and belly trussed in white gauze by ladies in waiting. Her areoles scorched and punctured as incense holders. Vampires coalesce, with fangs and ravaging kisses, biting Mercy like wild hyenas with panicked raw mouths of red saliva diamonds. Mercy gushes blood like a red river banquet, chained and strapped, legs stirrup wide, her feet beautifully arched and just so, glistening for fiendish kisses. In a candlelight ritual she is copulated by both sexes and fed upon. Mercy laughs like a loon screaming as she is lapped up by the wicked gift of ravenous tongues. Half devoured she emerges, a blood perfume delirium. Mercy arches upward and writhes in a blistering frenzy. Her eyes glare like a tempest then go vacant in loop tee loops in and out of focus. Her mouth, a red licorice lipstick smudge, gapes like twisted wire and pierced blood-soaked lips. In a ghastly shriek Mercy's belly oozes while the very last of her falters. Mercy surrenders her remains in a last hideous lament. Her hair looks like matted steel wool, her nostrils wet with mucousy brine. Her eyes bulge from their sockets, while a single smoldering finger in flames still burns as if it is a candle. Mercy tumbles downwards like a spooling galaxy as they eat her belly, throat, eyes, *** **** and nibble on her toes while she lays prone on a worn blood-stained porcelain Dias and spreads wide exposing whats left of her innocent bottom and smiling like a bewitched demon.

bird droppings
from the skies I'd plummet
into the arms
of the open road
of the paved places
of the winding canal
of the idle city sleeping

drowsy in my somberness
quiet in my pain, I labored
spilling my blood with a copper's clamor
the din of supper, scraping rusting fork & spoon
'pon tin plate
to hear ravens' drowning cries
rattling in the tin can of my empty mind
searching for the truths devoured
by many come before
who wound me dearly
who loved me,
dearly
and craved every drop of blood
succored
every morsel of marrow
how they loved me,
my flavor
my scent
craved the texture of my soul
that decadent, succulent chew
the note of my fermented heart
the painsteaking cuisine of my hopes & fears
no monster could dare
devour
as humans do,
as humans do...

as human devour
whom they love...

and wherever you go
finding me,
as aimless trails
of loose change, on sidewalks
on open roads
in parking lots,
in the hot sun or shade
know they wandered there
in drunken stupors
as I fell out of the gullets
of their wanton avarice,
they lost me perpetually
spreading my worth,
as they spread their disease
cloven hooves clopping, clapping, clipping their way
away from the devastation
of the feast of my dying
like banks
emptying in my ruin
of the wake of my demise
their empires, falling
fiat failing
loose change spooling
like my passions,
my yearning for pleasures of flesh
they ***** every woman I ever adored
society,
in the desert of that lustful ******,
disemboweling...
establishments, perishing
grants, drying up
riverbeds, swamp-like
don't forget
how they,
you,
chose the love of money
over me,
as you butchered me,
like choice cattle
no golden calf could ever beat veal
no price could hold sway over the madness of their deal
how demons waited
gap-toothed smiles twinkling
eyes dark, cold, wanting, hungry
accepting every handshake with glorified glee
malice of eternities, met with mirth,
poured over sinful charity,
from those who destroyed the good
despite the evils that would follow

I was the innocence - the sacrifice,

they enjoyed every taste of my youth,
my joy, my spirit, my screams,

they enjoyed every taste of my innocence
despite every harrow,
nestled
in every mouthful,
like broken glass filling
in fillet mignon
******
good
fun...

and here I am
this one's yours
your own pretty penny
with no thoughts to spare
for your pennies could never purchase my thoughts
for my thoughts are worlds of real estate
no longer on the market
closed
like never-never land
a tombstone reads:

"Here lies,
he who never lived,
for living was too high a price,
for the world to bear being free,
due his freedom,
therefore, he died,
that they may remain slaves
to the devil's delights,
evermore..."

and no one was there
to proclaim forgiveness
that they, who ransacked, knew not what they did
for they, who ransacked, did know
and yet persisted
for the sake of their own yields of riches,
***, and a deep-rooted
desperate sin
called,

"greed"

penny pocketed pencil pushers
mutton chopped smash mouthers
salad tossers and *** washers
tangible tap dancers dancing
tea timing tofu fools spooling threads
dead men walk fed up with funeral talk
experimental drug takers bathe them
Meat cleaving beefeaters teach their kids to chop down
cedar
cockroach feeders jot down things
crossing their eyes they dot their T's
tea drinking spider creatures fight for meals
lightning buggers squeal
lighting up bellys and sharp teeth with a surreal glow
God knows I'm only trying to brown my nose
though, by ironing my clothes
it should only show that my clothes are ironed
My foes are inspired
and my friends are tired from all the walking
we go on, talking
and joke about the things that we saw

I laid out twenty-two new shining glasses.
Regal, sparkling and tall.
I took each one in hand,
a rag in the other,
and turned on the water.

Suds spooling round
up and down
whirling softly
with old hands
washing with precision.

It's three am and I stand solitary
and tired at the kitchen sink.
I keep my socketed eyes
down to the glass and suds
for fear of looking into the reflection
of the window above.

An hour drones by,
I don't notice.
Busy standing still
in the dead of night,
up and down
round and round
suds bubbling
from old hands
washing precisely.

I wash them once
I wash them twice and set them to dry.

I dry them once
I dry them twice and set them side by side.

I won't be using these, no,
the glasses are for others,
to look proper while shining and clinking
and tipping and sipping
and laughing and being happy.

Eyes down from the window,
where a haggard thing waits,
I look to the glasses,
and wash them once more.

Spooling out again.
Bleach my soul until it's clean.
Black out till I'm blue.

Suffering the sweet,
tongue the sore until it heals,
worry for a salve,

Anything for you,
I just can't keep swallowing,
can't keep swallowing.

Heartbreak clamping down,
never wanted you to know,
never letting go.

My teardrops were right.
The nightmare had to be true,
for it to be mine.

The howling wind in Canberra
On the 12 July 2016 and it is spooling the view of the TV
I have no idea of how the night
Will be? And how many people
Will be injured
I hear voices of my old school friends hating the cold wind so much
They want to one day to stop the wind
I wish the wind would go away
But it won't because ted bundy
And ed gein are up above Canberra trying to destroy the earth and with the wind in Canberra, well, tonight it's Canberra's turn
And it forces kids to where old clothes and men have to calm them down
I am trying to watch home and away and neighbours and I kept
Getting interruptions in my tv
And I am sure parents have to keep their kids safe if they are going out tonight
You see you have to live your life but these howling winds
Are getting very wild
Like a wolf in the USA
You see I can hear voices from
My mates saying leave us alone
Ted bundy because we are so tough, ted bundy put on his fan
And is set out to destroy Canberra, I have no idea what he did yet but, he has big plans
For the Canberra crowd tonight
And I handcuffed Daniel pedersons hands for him to
Help him destroy Canberra tonight rather than just tying
Up people who used to stare at him at school especially if there are heaps of things that this kind of thing can do, we can destroy the city in our way
And we will never get caught
This is only a paranormal story

Imperial ales coerced our high gravity choices one day.
Bleeding, drenched and on full alert,  
I limped from the Tuck's bank to the brewery.

With one pole wet, my whistle was next;
I needed hoppy nourishment, salty pretzels and a stool.

Lacking fish or gear, I imagined it would be difficult
to explain my appearance, but I didn't give a ****; I come as is.

To my 3 o'clock a smoke ring silhouette vacuumed my
exhale like spooling cotton candy from 3 feet away;
I took a breath and inhaled her dandelion seeds.

A tattoo of a paper airplane on her wrist was faded from afar,
yet as she flew closer the ink appeared fresh, 2-3 weeks old.
Her hair smelled of patchouli, parsnips, an Asheville scent.

Closer now, I recognized a look of love or disgust in her eyes.
Can't tell em' apart anymore, as the prior wears a disguise,
eventually becoming the latter.

She asks my name and I ask the barkeep for two double IPA's.

We don't need a racetrack to run in circles anymore.

It's surprising I
am no longer surprised
   I am not shocked
I am not fazed
  I've pictured and calculated
every possibility
of every outcome
spooling through the wheel
of the dual-coded reel
  It helps me to feel
like I'm in control
like I'm protected
like I can handle being rejected
   but it's ninety percent ineffective
It's dark in here
this film is wrecked
flashing the same scene
skipping and flickering
as if not meant to resume
  ultimately never to end
I can only pretend
between what I see and what is real
is where I'm meant to be
robotically ethereal

Taut
Tight
wired and light,
tonight I'm going to take the car
tonight I may or not get far but
I have to go,
have to blow these cobwebs from my head,
quick or dead but under par
tonight
I'm going to take the car but first,
burst the bubble that I'm in,
begin to slake my thirst for all things that will end and in the end,
begin to start
begin to break apart the chain that tightens up
around my brain,
start the car,
taut and tight,not wired right but tonight's the night.
In the finding of unwinding I am wound up tighter than before,
the night becomes a bolted door
and I the rabbit in the spotlight where lurchers hound me,
spooling free
I'm in the car
not very far from where I start and find my heart just isn't in it
spotlit as I am,
still the rabbit
not the man.

Drops of gold
In the stream
Silver sold
To my dream

Drops of blood
In the flood
In motion
Emotion.

Grey temple
Fine apple
Delusion
Illusion

Pure bubbles
Six shuttles
To the door
Of my moor

Raw and rare
Disrobed to
The white air
And for you.

As the rhyme
Plays with time
Pushed aside
Kept inside

Vanishes
Turned into
A taboo
For the night.

I lay there
By the pool
Whilst my sphere
Is spooling

Speeding up
Round and round
Filling up
The pale pond.

As I freeze
The soft breeze
Of the thought
I have fought!

August 1, 2014

A Discourse on Aerophane Eunomia  9/24/2024

The preterition of bionomically viable mackintoshes perdurable by vivat credenda whorling around catacoustic furor that attempts to array the constellation of all grievances deciphered by compassionate governance is dependent upon the following stipulations and statutes. Primarily, a catadioptric houndstooth complex bionomic superorganism demands a gradgrind dompteuse of psephology (as a stark underestimate of nasute observers primarily overlooked by swingometers) trying to zizel lurdans by vaccimulgent fracedos and forfex haecceity contingencies of nimiety with pushful forcipation at the behest of quokkas affright at amphiscian afterclaps amberjacking dontolesque heydays imperiously governed by interlucation using interfluvian omphalism unreeving humanistic altruism (a tentative renegadism) in spinescent palzogony roiling in salebrosity with bastardized semelparous progeny gorgonizing the polydipsia of pickthank tantony to nebulist algedonic overdrive backfired in mackintosh vulcanization implodent upon portfire calculated to appease a fetishized odontalgia inculcated into modish broadcloth visiogenic maquettes of cultural deformation suddenly vogue with macroscian specters the subsultus of internecine nidifugous loimic periblebsis hobbling the weighage of kerygma better suited to cloistered gnotobiology rather than noisome cultural pettifoggery spooling in chorizont celsitude.

Wedelning qwersy sell-outs corralled by websters and coquelicot contecking compital moral clochards zealous for chryselephantine clavis disproportionate on shibboleths of jarabing jalousies adscripted by jarking foothot jellygraphs jerquing caballine jiggermasts by nasute opportunism attrite on incidental crepitated gerdoying stampedes culvertaging cynomorphic mavericks too nacreous to sustain nebelwerfer mechanomorphic negentropy more predictable as bezique betising for briquets of Sarvodaya finicky to proficuous nektons secondary to lagniappes of nembutsu the catalyst behind synclastic tympanies nettlesome because of elflock forestalled by ipesand nidamental to powellisation for pyretology forever percurrent as a heterodyne trigonometric variance of bounded vacillated voltinism of opaque sastruga henpecking somniation sparvering interpunction to specular umbrage sphacelated sussultatory suretyships for jansky and pulicide in ignivomous deputization of blunt obtuse iopterous conflagration fumigating ipecac into streamlined mechanization of ironmaster wallfish irriguous because of lucrative downtrodden evanescent brehon yet catalyzed by springboking resourcefulness joggling the jamdani into jockeyed cladogenesis intransigently isallobar (resolute in protection of ****** octodonts constituting the bellwethers of aleatory oryzivorous osmol insulating preterition) by chirking global solidarity even in subboreal disagreement with other countries

An oscitation of orrery often siamang in rumchunder rhotacism in celation contingent on shenango tatamae of shagreen nimbose compurgation of dashpot shibboleths of rheotaxis redemptive in the pleoinosis juddering the volplane porbeagle with tangible costive coy popocracy at the detriment of deplorable springhare rasters of tragelaph pseudo-paragons supernal in importunate thremmatology culled from goniometers of elective grillage for tachytelic gonfaloniers to punctuate the valedictory ****** of equity in equipoise suspended as a tantieme of conserved tectospheric terrella (harvested potential energy even when embezzled by chlamydate henchmen) manufactured by testudo uncial migraineurs toiling restlessly even in macroscian umbrage for gradate suffrage a piebald moonraker sphacelation of spurriers above murengers always cognizant of indignant plight but frowning on outright cultural temulentia of ultrageous cacodoxy becoming kuru. Paroxytone recadency of bosky boschveldt pantagruelian scabilonian whangams of pilloried pigeonholes slimmerbacking complex sociodynamic catastrophes abetted by worricrow paradigms obtenebrating cryptotype exists suboptimal because it is coauthored by nyejays gribbean against swoopstake individualism emergent into syndicalized mutualism (a talisman of tegular latticework moonshot telenergy capable of subverting core machinations by singular tentation of togated terpsichorean modifications to camaraderie in a woke-spun world’s sorority—responsible for torpefying virility—troating with lucriferous might yields compromise and efficacy when wed to chilgoza rather than epicene debasements while vouchsafing ambitious masculinity) such that the turncock on insight once clogged by mute ridottos now inundates trouvailles of subtle vastations gradately hedged from interramification to slowly disperse or become vecordy for huckabuck graft guilloched in defiance by skalded vorticism tediferous in contrarian polities orchestrated by chatelaine pedigree to sustain subsidiary alms for witwanton libertines despite such ergotall kilmarge of rancid flagstench purified by secular litotes

Simultaneously, wobbly but resolute mahouts--the mainpernors of scofflaw matachins trying to catamount caudle against elitism--try to obviate cecutiency to immiserate chelonian banderols cadging chevrotain empaths to nebulize matriotism in aimless vitiation of attempted negentropy by nivial centrism only to marvel at summative nolitions all wagered in bailivated wrox galvanized by baized serpentry seahogging zarzuela gamidolatry and out of the greatest cognitive dissonance hoggasters for killcow antithesis of hopsack pragmatica walloped by hotchpot howdah foumarts’ exhortations while flysch decimates their ranks as fitchew murage defaults such that political derricks are delegated to defeat quotidian dentagra even when prominent politician degage aunceled acclaim of asterism militant in pettifoggery despite jurymasted victory over the peccadillos undermining ashplant stulms (arrect in their own malversation) mainsail of rabid contumacy rather than valorous travail resurgent in chrestomathy.  

Tirociniums for timocracy aristarching arguted aretaics against Hakenkreuz and naïve espaliers bolted to boltrope epizoic determinism for witless alamort epilation of oreillet nidifugous inculcation of physiognomancy with improper brassage deskandent in perfunctory interpunction of punitive oneirocritism of radical jolkering innitency by backstay imbrication of aloof ivory-tower nihilism among perverse academic ranks illecebrous because of ichnited analysis of stemson immunifacience of scud by scrimure abandon drooling over picamar cirriped goblin treasures. The scrobiculous backlash of scumble shiding around in cat-lady garish gaudy falsettos betrothed to the superlunary concourse cooperative with silverskin sorbefacient psaphonic acceleration centrifugal from izzat operative in cultural umlaut because of unguicule embracery abroach of illicit pipelines of tubifacient graft sustained by the bonhomie of second-take absconce actinism enveloping the virgations of woke allegiance to afterclaps of alcahest  which underscores the forefront posture intermediary to alexia is a resurgent aphthong of thoughtless consumerist ploys of plashy diatribes against apologetic kerygma swaddling apotropaic aggiornamento above fraying braying jackals of religious aporia preferring the exhilarated wharfinger hobohemia to the muntjac sublimation of all entelechy synclastic towards plurennial pleimorphy for societal phoniatrics to great fanfare and amelioration of the dirigisme by guarded abraxas pergolas so decisive they collectively are both the antecedent catalyst and consequential afterbirth to high-ticket onerous pandation.

The vulpecular zayat zoppa of downtrodden crestfallen haustellum of substandard binary hawseholes become dogcarts to sophomoric banderols specious to tanquams of tantony gaslighted by dupion to either be dipnoous in endeavor (self-consciously dishonest about oppositive support for detraque) or emphatic about declasse enfranchisement darkled by the devastating prospect that authenticity invites anathema from every cordwainer obliged to sustain humane compassion deadeyed by radioactive daws of misguided quasi-astragal autecology . Taradiddles of cruelty wagered in provocative acropathy deserve alpenstocker magnanimity because of invaluable munificence in forever keystoned enhancement of allemande noospheres revalorized into burgeoned tympany and vivid nembutsu earned on the suffrage of the aloof frogmarch hobbled by martingale aegis livid by the contumacy of pretext debaucheries invented by vulpecular Idiocracy to engender the source of the vehement neurergic aspersions ultimately the ultimatum of circular sockdolagers of laborious acequia accolent only to abscissas few others could interdigitate for eventual appeasement of cordial exoteric aspiration of demassified eunomia heartfelt to attune the escaliers of recourse to invest in prosodemic eclaircise that oystercatchers overlocked against the isovol by defeating the froward isorithms of egestuous bannock will enhance nisus and oikonisus simultaneously in a world already famished of fertility in farsighted alacrity committed to the nuclear family. Thus, we need a polyphiloprogenitive growth engine to camber and calver rejuvenated moralism and redoubled enlightenment to jurymast integral noetic virtues establishing paragons of jannock wroth in success woonerfing rectitude in meliorism that refrains from anti-Americanism rather than stultifying the whole system for the mazut of killcow wragapole samara squintifegos spuddling on antebellum travesty and premodern areneidan illiteracy the sastruga of typhonic pessimism better obrogated by reform than reiterated in vandalized scaffmasters so prepossessed by scarfskin acciptrine atrocities it forgets to marvel at our stepwise progression of wondrous cosmic dilatometry piggybacking sidereal lugsails propinquities prize in ephemeral mensuration of holobenthic time at loss with the joss of kismet zazzy in foudroyant entelechy as the clepsydra bleeds festination because of polyacoustic gezellig quesited as the ultimate wonderwork forever perplexed of and tantalized by the selfsame fate of pansophy.

With peaceful intent I extend the broadest bonhomie to repudiate miscegenated compaginations that seem surly, burlesque or menacing when in reality my words have variegated connotations that sprawl elaborate metaphors with maximum creativity sometimes overlooking subtle innuendos too brash to be authentically my asseverated intent

from afar
we watch the implosion,
some regard as revolution
others desecration

from afar we watch
the unravelling
the words spooling
upon the floor

we watch sparks fly, hopes die
we watch tears fall, ruck and maul

we watch, disbelief, horror, jubilation
we watch this divided nation..

we watch and pray, we watch and pray
this is the view from far, far away...

Clay

A shoulder of clay cut with runnels
set to music, round notes, fat plucked

chords sustained in eternal cascade
from the concertina of the spooling Manistee

above Red Bridge, blue blazes worn
smartly by these still, mute sentinels,

their averted gaze twining into
graceful arches that usher us from one

moment to the next, fine capillary
weave stretched over rib of stabbing light

that illuminates slick kaolin veins,
a surgical tent to conceal rending fingers

plunged into the wound, our faces
smeared, the trees thrilling to our howls.

Guilt

Northbound on the left hand shoulder
Even the most armored pads no match
For the glittering carpet of shattered glass
Pile shot through with steel shard, sharp
Bite of burrowing wire, incongruous
As the blue cow I placed above a yellow
Felt board moon as a child, unsummoned
Memory that galls my brand new passenger
Dour as his spear is sharp, running me through
While I watch the reflection of the dog
Vanish behind the spooling concrete wall

the deep end of beginning
without sparks... just a glow on a wave
in a circle.... cleaving to the vacuum
of non-being, wreathed in wonderment
and awe... strutting from the nothing
upon the actual stage.
floating in the concrete villages
of our aspirations.
hovering in the war games
of our atoms... spooling thread
through the void.
when the center -
became the corner of all rooms...
we spilled into the point of all returns.
we came upon a lake of solar flares
and magnetic storms..
grossly impervious
to " Why? ".

as we were.

without gills, we breathe on the moon.
the humble tortoise has a house and our theories
are quaint. we have all the havoc of time
in an opulent balloon.
an unusual as usual, floating in open wounds
where the worlds on fire are the frozen ones
and all the Islands of our apostrophe
all pause the revelation
as quickly as you
Like.

summer in a spoon is all the cheap heat of our medallions
suckling the ambivalent inferno  of our ice age
spooling an endless wrinkle of our entire folly on a plinth
‘neath a pillar of vaporous Dawn!
Empirial in aspect,... but as fleeting as the miracle.
concave sparks are the Eldar Sign of our implicit medieval chicaneries.
all is the storm of an imperfect thing gasping for black holes-
at the senior prom. the corsage of our immortal souls
adorning the brevity of Life Itself.
we continue in this way
for no reason
with a hat.

like eggs benedict, a poached
egg wobbly as it sits. Covered in hollandaise
sauce, spooling on his plate. Spilling
over the sides as he ate! Runny as
his nose the snowy winter he ran

a fever and had a cold. There was a big tear
in her, running like crimson sheer pantyhose,
from her crotch down to her toes. Runny
as the Colorado river. Against the pines

and mountains she's a sliver. Runny as
her hazel eyes. As the tear ducts fill
she cries. It drips like dew drops pearling
on her lips. Runny as drains collecting

all the rain beating down from the sky. Like
the juices in mom's baked apple pie. After all,
she was his honey. But amber sweetness
heated under the fire is hot and runny.

for lines anymore. Once I
clung to them, walking the tight
rope. Man was I a dope! Spooling
piece of thread.  Till I strangled myself
as it wrapped around my head.

I don't fall
for bodies anymore. Buffed
six-packs and lean. They're not
real. They're all machines! No flab
or cellulite. And all their clothes fit
tight. I've parted with men looking like
they walked off the red carpet. Their egos
fill the room like smoky fumes.

I don't fall
for degrees anymore. Hanging on the wall
with emblems in gold. If I must carry
a dictionary as we speak bury me
in a week!

I don't fall
for money anymore. Sports cars
driving at dizzying speeds. Custom-made
suits made of silky tweed. Houses so large
I must carry a map, or I'm lost as I
proceed.

I don't fall
for chemistry, buckling knees,
or floating butterflies in my
stomach. They only make me
plummet. Walking around like a zombie
I can't see straight ahead of me.

I rise
now I see with both my eyes!

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
epiphany
too dormant to be
sleep as we know it
and too tranquil
to be anything
than a false start
in an actual
Now.

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.

The gift of wine. My glass cups a ruby pool. And there are moths in the shed
dancing unforbidden in shoals of suspenseful dust. As I court the approaching nowhere
with a Spirit in my Grasp. I debunk the ruin of my days with my casual glooming.
Soaking in the bloated beauty of our constant world
as we blunder on the surface
of our childhood dreams…
A bronze rope
spooling from the sun
has found my
open hand.

Upon felling an Oak.

After we have sweated the night away
it has come to this, myself, yourself,
a lamppost on the corner of Handler and Wilde
stained with the **** of many a dog.

Your cheeks, rivulets of black,
happy tears you said, your friends
for now and perhaps time to come, dancing,
heels like typewriter keys on the gym floor.

All Macarena-d out, panting
as though a Collie after a sprint in heat,
your found me two-thirds of a diet Coke down,
lopsided bowtie, pentagon hole in the shirt.

No kiss, but small talk. A botched triple jump
into the limo, hands linked, already spooling
back through the hours, the slow dance,
the walls dappled blue, a memory like all before.

Now the kiss. Brief. Nothing more.
This too, a memory. For a second,
marriage and children lucid theatre in my head.
The reality something else. I head home,

you wave and we're gone.

Weave me into your joyous network cruelly
Entombed in humming cables spooling
All the edges are skewing
Hooks luring in the dark
Fatal spark ends transmission
Good intentions, outweighed by outcome
Harvesting doubt under hot sun
Can't hide, can't run

Split your lip on this
sharper sensibility
bringing even your
fogged fog thic'r
where it counts
this feel we go for
thees reel we hope for
spooling along like a pony
yeehaw

restoration

yeehaw restoration

need that

What breeze is this? The  dollop doldrums swiftly cutting down where once trees stood fertile demigods, coalescing thoughts and offerings from the Earth.
Down into the engorged under realms when Eden once gripped social inspiration is now fear and stolid memories of believing- what should be could be.
Now with might and a whip, one person speaks though 500 layers of binary code, to save a step to the motors that ruffle their feathers with periodic harvests so loud and bold. sister machines, it's whining and spooling its grip.
But inside the changes the first and last step still roots itself in monotonous autonomy of the pollution machine, an excuse for a rinse of celebrated solar light. yet further from the first baby steps and progress is the fight.
Perhaps the hunter, the exhibitionist, the latent supposed innovator, the land to be procured and free from past error, should be on the list of hunted instead?
No better motivator, than" survival", says time, now fading past us to a dystopian wasteland: unbreathable air, muddied water; to this does such standing prey of our dear terra firma and atmosphere.

As the afternoon ponders the early morn, I quaver and Damascus
every simple coin into a rake of unforgiving steel. my sword deflowers
my sheath like a hornet forgets black honey on a fraction of an asterisk-
bathing horrors in Sunshine so massive, even eyes forget
what they’re looking for.

For Hours.

As the marionettes swarm the unity of our fated strings
dangling from the hook in the sun, simpering in weary delights
we join the spite of our peers with the disjoint promise
of our estimations. We assume the proper god
for the derelict prayer
on the lips of a broken
conundrum, humming verbs like a lunatic
to better scope the open remove
of our return

For Hours.

today is the best guess of an almost Wednesday
spooling jewels from a cracked Always
in the manner of an upset Muse
spoiling the venture of our Providence
with the venomous joy bespoke the wandering Kind.
as poems displace the glow of our actual talk
and aaaaaall the way down
go our prayers.

like a Boss.