Thursday, October 21, 2010

Embryons Desséchés

Your submarines hold
vatic pallets of inci-
dental umbrage, or um-
brage and hubris together
as umbris, and they bristle,
luciferous under domes of
risqué arcana "ripped and armed"
with turbo-powered funeral manes
in a horror of galiwhistell ung-
uents, Stygian myrobalanum:

If orb were equal-telic,
nova-corpsed, a necessary
ignorance to arterial conduits,
if space's body rejected us,
column daughters, humbly
involucred to raw pontifex
wye, how dark adventures
pour forth from the urn,
sad-bellied callants snoring
while puma-fixtured clipper
ships roar in pulverized camps,
truncated illuminations upon
lustral taxes, ie:

if head is dew-drop, what washing?
Alas, your foetus a post-it note
from Proserpina, the Bad to
Eumenis Factorum. What Communism
to a fractured Elysium?
Even the pavements here
were visages, carved
jewels, and each with a name,
like "Dark Plague" or
"Gravely Ulterior"
No matter. Elysium
will found a picaresque
and pallid lactate upon
the hiatus of a penitent
tellurion, like saying
"Forgive me" as "Sorrery"
meaning "All Sorcery's Dead"
but only by misreading,
or misrule by jostled auguries
whose contours are the knowledge
secreted in vulgar "Parkay"
How mere is the mirror
of the land, its marked
continu~and? A tartare of
rare flamen whose sententious
fort of media proposes an
infelicitous arche'
upon our miserable pussy
bats of vital circus criminals,
and will heave a multi-sonic bonus?

Nothing is swollen with tears and fire,
except some cellphone, and it has replaced
the lyre, and it fits like a tooth
in a psylongolem's head, words are
cruel punishments, or many-jangling chains
like bling formed from perishable boundaries.

I, the Pen, am Minos, near to Minus,
and here within the semioswells dost I refound
the weirding hand of Rhadamanthus, a rabid co-
immaculate spectre of frond-like

Every time you kill me,
there is nothing
but music.

And I return,
the blood flag
of the ages.

or Sati
in pi-write~



Enmity judges butter.
Return to the tub.
No rut is ever dreamed enom:

Where psychon and photon converse
as psyton and phochon, the
phaneronian exchangeable
toward its holier allomony



all our money
is gone


psyfon'd away





says to song:


"A head feeling its way with the parts of its mouth."

and Strauss' Heifetz
in Es' Ilk~

qe les attachementz 
ne soient fetz freschement 
sur les felonies faites


George Hart

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Irrony Observes The Earthing.