Tuesday, May 2, 2017




THE MIND IS A BACK-UP STORAGE DEVICE THAT INTERACTS WIRELESSLY WITH YOUR OTHER DEVICES 

INCITES ONE’S INNARDS TO COLLUDE UPON INSTALL A THIN SHRAPNEL MIST BURNT BUT RELUCTANT TO MELT

NOTE THE SPINNING WHEEL NOTE THE WHIRLPOOL'S GRIMY FROTH

NO ONE SEES THE PAST COMING 

JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T GOT THE PUDDLE YOU WANT DOESN'T MEAN IT ISN'T RAINING

EYESORE AND HEADSET BLIND CHISELLING THE AIR GOD DREAMT YOU FOUND A HUNDRED DOLLARS IN 

WOKE UP READY TO CLOSE A LAPTOP 

STALWART MIDSTEP PERIPHERAL FORWARDNESS SPINDLE OF CIRCUMSTANCES NEVERENDING SEMICIRCLE 

I DIED ON MY WAY DOWN THE LIST OF WHAT TO KEEP

YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS AFTER THIS

SUMMER LIGHT LIKE CAUTION TAPE

MELEE OF PURE FADE

WITH A USE FOR WHAT WE DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO WHILE HISTORY TAUNTS THE BLANKS AFLAME AS SOLVENCY REACHES THE REAL IN AMBIENT KNOTS    

THE SKY BLUE LIKE A WET KNIFE

AND THE LIMITED KEPT COMING

TRICKLE-DOWN DUALISM CURDLING INTO MAWKISH ERSATZ CHIAROSCURO 

REALLY EXISTING CAPITALISM    

WHEREIN EVERYTHING DESCRIBABLE VANISHES

THE RATING RINGS ITS GEAR FOR ALL YOUR ZEALOTRY

INCISED ON THE HEAD OF A NEEDLE

GOVERNMENT ICE

TIME MOVING FROM RIGHT TO LEFT ACROSS THESE DEPRECIATED TRANCE PLURALS BALLED INTO LOZENGES OF DUMB-ENOUGH CAVITY PLUMAGE 

REALLY LIVING IN THE HEART’S CHROME-AND-STUCCO WILDERNESS AND NEVER MOWN DOWN INTO THE DONE 

AND ALL THE TROUBLE I HAVE WASTED LIMNS MY FINGERPRINT HEAD 

THE WORLD LOADS INTO A CATARACT DAZE LICKING ITS WATCH THROUGH THE JUMPCUT YCLEPT COMPUTE

VANITY AND NEGLIGENCE

THERE’S MORE AND THAT’S ALL 

STATIC IS READY 


Sunday, October 23, 2016

                                                               


                                                               up to somewhere, spacious

                                                                with narrow exits
                                                               we know, enough is too much. 
                                                               but, go on. however many
                                                               too many made the pundits chicken out
                                                               as some of our more 
                                                               intelligent elders advise--fear 
                                                               of gain, fear of loss, fear of not 
                                                               enough of either, 
                                                               fear of no change. 
                                                               mending a heart, describing it, 
                                                               what are they?
                                                               you almost don't wonder just
                                                               recognize alterity'll swerve some. 
                                                               mending it, describing how it went
                                                               about its messages, spent a small bird's
                                                               lifetime expending 
                                                               nearly and more, it hasn't been
                                                               a kind of day. it is difficult,
                                                               indeed, to control oneself.  




Wednesday, September 7, 2016






                                                                                   (way shut, stitches open)





Wednesday, August 24, 2016




extract in too much detail and the resonance fades

interlude of another life

stretching aspect ratio taut against
the obdurate

presents itself in blank 
detection then

"support attention" the air seemed 

to let 
slip

more tamperer than witness