Monday, October 4, 2010

Neon Helix Seasons









How question the lipid annoyance? Whence
Iah the Messu became in self-pleasure a stair-glass.
Krst, cursed, and caressed, a large image
Passed urethra to urethra, oil from a wound,
Like light through Urethane, wheels obviously,
The Phthalates advancing upon
The registered, Anti-freeze to fins, how
Cold mutton enters an ice capsule
unknown to the Tuareg woman.
I think of sewing up the mummy
In green stone, and hanging hips
On the outside, nautical catacomb eyelids,
Such oblique vocoder aliens, Suten tu hetep
Anup neb tser khent ethyl hexyl
Benzylbutylphthalate. Their foam
Will crumble.


U+269C (⚜), Your shoulder horns involve
The great anniversary, and the nursery for Verse,
This vine in my stroking, colloid of Macadamia,
Macadam of Madame's Adam's apple, Macedonian
Mastodon, They even hide the dead thing
From its masters, black-face figured to flue,
Or the massive black organ, space-hand-heel came home
Ill-bred, inobstinate, a lee to the lewness, Loudon
Where its yellow skin tallow was molded
To constrict the expulsion of the neon helix,
Some barque might misshape its orifice continually,
Politically, the tree as seen by M. Lepaut, the Neontet,
the shadows of its tropical luff become a song
for the pianist pilot, "I see thee, Screwtown."


Its eyebrows are geese in a helix, tender
To the gum, and flowing toward the sounds of lamb motes.
Its guns are lamb notes. Its geese are gear wads.
Flambas.


Dogs fill the tiled avenues in Utopian paper.
The Day of Tiles. The dogs on Isles.


Fate is a dummy. 
I am the babe.
I grow young again.


Bağlamak
Bağlamak
Bağlamak


In the popular life-jackets
Laying near the pool, in the latest
Exercises designed to give
Ripple unto lemonaded breasts,
Our courtesy commands a Ford
Inside a lice bulb's carafe.  


Our sweet and undying simpleness
Was the salt of an endless Louvre.
It is the first line of that play, of Le Play,
And an uproar has begun
Over the digestion
Of a made-up word.


Aggravate.
Aggrandize.
Augment lovesome
Manse.


Dear dire ear, I eye
your ore, your shore, but
will your curves taste of a selfish
and tyrannous means?


Hesperantha, you abaxile
zeode.