Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Point Well Taken.

to ward its mood

the prairie schooner

dust mummies
in ragged floppy hats
manipulating large alien


A Transquill Destiny Unfolds

{(forgive this cheese)}

It is as if its face were
drawn tight around the thing,
the stem terminating in a
blindness borne of the
religion of drunkeness,
or drawing (string),
the trees in spring
as visited by wildhead
knights with bat names,
the perfectly unknown
way it deployed an in-
telligence not avail-
able to the com-
mon ordinary cit-

Each section is created by an oblique method, and the plans ruined,
and the maker itself, not given the means to act upon what it
has seen. The further remembrance of the corpse of

|leath| & |fede|


True fish
wish an onion.

Two sick
finish the single

The black onion
is left at large,
its hard gem-
like eye rem-
oved, the place
where the seed
bearers rest
for awhile am-
idst the long
where the road
turns rocky
and begins to climb,
winding upward
into the oceans
of barest abandon-_-

~'~'~'~'~'~'~~~Y: Terras



It is as if its own face
were at the bottom of the
cup, and that the cup was
the depression out of which
rang the cause. How is a
raven much like a writing

.[non desk sky].

image title: _From Moral Physiocracy to Urban Design_

Monday, June 28, 2010

Ray w/ Arm in Trout

bags of stew
find rewards

stems try to join
and end up
balancing extended

sometimes this man
enters my room

he's able
to alter his
by changing
the bones
in his face

i think of its
thick stiff
crenelated nose
splayed out
like a camel's foot

Is Needed.

to be the sad underwaters
a captive chimpanzee
can't peel the ocean's

the face is terribly painted
a bird on fire would unfold
to become the geometry of
memorial fountains
no one visits

water running
fire burning

the albatross
looks down

on the devil
in its armchair

i draw a picture and play stupid
they don't have to see what i would do
this is what i would do:

accident = minotaur
labyrinth = accident
daedalus = accident
accident = labyrinth
minotaur = labyrinth
daedalus = minotaur
accident = route of omens
route = accident
tooth = axe
axiom = root
roof = dental enclosure



minotaur = minute tear.

about the universal monstrosity
of its becoming, the waste of oneself,
and the tragedy of others,

and fun.

rebel:art » Blog Archive » Evan Roth: “Graffiti Analysis: Sculptures”

rebel:art » Blog Archive » Evan Roth: “Graffiti Analysis: Sculptures”

You had pages unsullied.

eye had photons
and their mechanical
agency in all things


gold and glass
to render a living
octopus gelatin's
ankhle betsy

beast wind
the correction
strangled by headphones

the public library
brought up on

like cleopatra
its regal brow

like a waterfall of bashful branches
brew the odd corridors
wingspilling with parties
and partiers

for years its skin
estwas described
as a series of masks
getting stranger as they danced

thumbs to wretch
a lens
amorphous mirror gel amoeba
its sanctum
the volume cannot ruin
what is on display

the central molecule
of the temple at delta
had been a nein

no-yes (noise)?


would like to try
you on
but you

are heavy
with Frederick.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Afreaka Asya.. You rope a Humacorn.

freedom gas is in its heart
a green dome shaggy with
leaf hoppers

come chop away some limbs
and see the old demon's head
you can see the thigh muscles
running through the temples

where the solid gold eyes
are warmed in its vagina
before the prayers
are fed to mighty eaglets

with a special helmet
you can enter the underground
system of pipes full of rushing water

if darkness
surrounds you
let your skin
begin its song

I could dig for a thousand years
in skin, twigs, and old demons
and never find another dance partner
like you

a self-launcher

a skeeter

you'd think about rich 19th century people
sleeping under ferns
but I'd be thinking of

sarcophagi filled with warm macaroni

warm green macaroni
filled w/ peppermint jelly

i'd think about you
with a heavy stainless steel
blue tooth ear accessory

I'd think about Klinger as a Klingon.

i'd think about
the ways meteorology
is both less and more random
than the people
you find inside
Macaroni Grylle


punitive hobbligato's
dungaree ear agony noodling
it stays

tied to the rooster
whose feet like a fever
are the home
of much lightning

lightning through a noodle
is a flat oblong box
the secret agent
hands to the numberless
box at the base of the

there is a gap
between the buildings
with a cantilevered ribbon machine
that draws the agent up

the landing is a doorway
and the door itself is like a
life-sized gourd that
spins radially

to enter the doorway
one must enter the door itself
and one's head goes into
the upper part of the gourd

the hot squash alphabet tennis oven
gives its overt furniture spider
over the luxurism of speaking
through pillows

an illuminated hovering pillow chair
could gesture
with a jewelled chain
it might hang from its


where to begin
several lager than life-sized glass
bicycles are melded into a complicated
frame for a hammock

a goat's head pokes out
from an amorphous red pod bristling with little
hoses dripping fragrant droplets
onto an amplified tympanum

the goat's voice
is made into pictures
on a rear projection trampoline
upon which bounce

them sweet garudas
in dew rags
and particle rays

there is a robot
you can put your face in
and it will give you


Saturday, June 26, 2010

Chicken Canoe Hide-a-bed.

mi canoa es una banana
a través del cual una montaña
hace un huevo-bebé

iguana mango muslos

oh buena persona
te recuerdo
las ventanas de huevos con cáscara delgada
entre tus labios
y la canoa
que poco
como la goma de una vaca

ojos facetados de papel para los
espermatozoides iguana luminosa

Creo que un árbol caído
puede hacer que las piernas
para mi canoa de pollo
cuyas rodillas se
erizado lanzadores de castor

palos como un copo de nieve
podría ser una puerta de castor

Dirty Paintings From the Crowd

the celebrated come to trace
its pinnacle pool-lined hives:


nommo chasing fox in moonlight
reindeer announcer

deep electronic beads
strung on a crimson bed

all these salamanders
are for you, Santa


or swan faucet

rubber plant

the thing which moves
inside glass octagon
with puma spider
top hat
its smooth
red tongue
to ovulate

the wheeled couches

Friday, June 25, 2010

Thought mar Córas

Vispārējās slepenas pieņēmums
doma ir, ka tas ir tikai stāsta
jums to, kā lietas ir, un ka tas
nav darīt kaut ko -

ka "tu" ir iekšā tur, izlemjot,
ko darīt ar info. Bet jums nav
izlemt, ko darīt ar info. Doma
iet jums. Domāja, tomēr dod
nepareizu info, ka jūs
izmantojat to, ka jūs esat tas,
kurš kontrolē domāja.

Tā kā patiesībā doma ir tā,
kas kontrolē katrs no mums.
Doma ir izveidot nodaļu, kas
pati par sevi, un tad saka,
ka viņi tur dabiski.

Šī ir vēl viena būtiska
iezīme domas: domas nezina,
ka dara kaut ko un tad cīnās
pret to, ko tā dara.

Tā nevēlas zināt, ka tā dara
to. Un domāju, cīņas pret
rezultāti, cenšoties izvairīties
no šīm nepatīkamām rezultātus,
saglabājot par ar šo domāšanas

Tieši to es saucu
par "stabila neatbilstības".

Yesterday's Dugs

The King of Atlantis
Vincent Price
sullenly eats inside
a paddle foot donkey:

"I'm tired of old pirates
and mermen."

"I'm tired of stealing my
measly chickens from the canyons
of cabinetry whose
innards are the mangled
wrangled extensions
of lines."

Then in comes old
limpy, its burst ear livers
hanging out like
floppy chrome tongues.

god, what an
awful disgusting
little batch
of amoebas

to a wrinkled
guitar head

makes me think of a head
with big floppy
chrome cheek liver paddles
each of which

is a coffee dunker.

get along
little protongs!

Thursday, June 24, 2010

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imp ossibull, its thing head selector, a rotary skull halo

taking those scrunched holidays, which
is actually a single continuous
and unbroken reality from the odd
selves of others to revel in
the oddity of oneself because
the piano and the palm tree
have been made one there

the unending density of the frames
compacted and shielding on all sides
the endless joyous cataloging
and the smoke is all wrought iron
and rote irony





egret standing in shallow waters
mixed clusters cut in cubic sections

pli or implicate ardor
its face first becoming white hot
then pulsing subsonically
the cranium an emitter
trained to its extremis

wawls oil dune



rotary inscription wheels
on vertical axes

until the end of time

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Bried Encounter With the Etomph

sleep fair caramel, sleep fair bondage, in the dusk's apartment, time's magnolia looks forward to no more lingerie for aeroplanes, thin creams venture out into semi-hostile glimmers, the sleekest lamp must hover hear forever in the dark its lick latch dogged by a pill in a sink, a melting felt up, leaves lifting to show the inner theatre capsule, the hideabed stage, the hammock stage lid for the pipe that burbs earthquakes, any jittery lines will do, video can be wrapped around elastic vessels and floated over oceans, submarine emitters are nice, especially in canvas, especially in pilgrim drag, hippie pilgrims, robot pilgrims, growing pogroms along the ledges where the hiss sits fretting on the frets which are separate and unconnected frets, uncollected they stand, the tiny near Rhodes, the colossal road, its dark voodoo filling, the béatilles of Chandler Brossard, Seymour Krim running naked down whatever thinly drawn line you highlight to read, its narrow relatives perched like guttapercha, figure as modulus, model as figure, figure as the unpronounceable relationality or real nationality, time has brought you low, or to this place on the mountain, the ziggurat was a waiting room, the name a priest's trick or bedside manner, who's to say that all the fascism isn't just a mercy smothering, i am, not because i believe in any of it, trouble, trouble, boil and bubble, which path did you take back there, the train went down into a deep helix, i like that, trains going down inclines into the ground, their figures change and they become snakes underground AND underwater, the meal is ground by two stone wheels that 'talk' together in the mist of the early morning when mother's metal is milk refining whirlwind, the acid rain is an overcoat you left here beside me as i write, a dog now sniffing inside the mirror, it can't be told the burglar glared at the pale white face, the red light in its mouth increasing, its fingers lengthening, the movies flickering and speeding up inside the nails, the feet like puffs of silk gas and made of tiny sentences, the string that was attached to its life garment came out, the dummy collapsed, the green faced balloon puppet machine entered the field a cube of grass ascended to crescendoes, dose to does, the pharmacon saint is dread or peacock's greed, pan now slaps your face, but you are asleep oh wooden cigar indian, and you hold a little basket of kazoos and toy canoes, skipping stones, skipping tones, the sky opens up for hassles.

John Bock

John Bock at Kunsthalle Berlin

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Mogong Among The Transaccidentations of the Trans-Stygian Express

however its messy bologna meted,
there was the mate ten fact so coy
that whatever the case was, now
it could be shared

that a trank, a trangle,
and a trangdillio
should possible
the opposite's trangam
into a

meganart, an
egonaut, a small
flat egg case
modified into a purse
for special skiing

think Hollywood Pollen House
with purple gumbo fountains

the special skiing
of the call at home

its headphones
like great stiff batwings
of crimson lace
pulsing with creole widget-froth

and clusters of transparent
stroboscopic berries
hiding its mouth

the way a totally bleak pause
just cannot deal
with the absolute crescendo
of the erisian elysiania
of the erythrocytes

unpossi-bled thraneen

giant wicker sled castles
of ancient Gran Paradiso

My Sweaty Katy Trail Warm-Ups

written at the Oaklawn Starbucks between Cedarsprings and Lemmon

a toyota fj cruiser cellphone was parked
in a busy Starbucks earcanal, when a Mercedes
fitness instructor doing lethoids illegally
parked her nosering gaining access to the
consumer queue via the handicapped porte.

what is it trying to say, the chemical sky, its skew number?

the porte had just been vacated
by the Sultan al Criphuille du Lex-is
leaving only a thin remnanct
of data-shielding like the wrapper
of an iced latte' straw...


a crumbuzzard cellphone bird
lands on a milk-fleshed milf
and stealthily penetrates
the citadelbank of her
nosering's fitness center
data terminal. it then
does a strange thing:

it sets up a sunglass replication
applet which powers itself from her
Starbucks black card and begins silently
'tweeting' sunglass designs which it
virally markets through her custom
cookie archiving modulet.


a violent cookie
gives tortured birth
to a counterfeit Lexus URL
with a cute nicotine eye-patch
mainframe ambulance bassinet

going south

a Costa Rican Eco-fuels magnate's
breast enhancement's cellphone nipple ring's
holodeck's incense archive
becomes the new VJ on an Icelandic
cruise ship's new Venetian fitness cruise
for Mexican organ cows
to the handicapped Porte
of Starbucks


a thrice misunderstood
eldery transistor troll
bakes its head in a microwave

this ancient anchorite
has its teleportation genitals
preserved with pink
Alexandrian lemons

a person suddenly says
no, says the barrista..
The person exits in a whirl
of fabrics and weird dogs
and lego model molecules

a pink Greco-Aegyptian lemonphone
calls the navel of all pasta-informatics
ostensibly to make a crank call, when the
line opens, the hermetic lemon(say)


~Lata Talat Asha Jagjit Sudha M

A beautiful cellphone Doge
the color of golden diodes
hands its coffee-colored altarego
a chocolate earcanal icon


The Marqueso du Cheesephone
takes her poodlephone in for a
bandwidth trimming
by the council of
overzealous local and foreign assholes

poor reception
in the townhome
is because of
total pink smokestack
invading the

curly whites of
earcanal bat people
a non-toxic revenue
is working out
in an unaffiliated
fitness monocle's
space station

when all of a sudden
a data corsair arrives [Peter Greenaway?]
to perform a guerrilla commercial

for hot taffy nipple inserts
along the llatte' hottub salonary


one Baronet du Virizona
is pruning her coffee-flavored
nipple branchlets when Don
Quixlatte' arrives
an an AT&T text message
selling gravity free underwear
and scented

Armenian candles

The city of Berlin
is now a proprietary SUV
living in the nomadic
jellyfish brain city

of Stirbox Onk

it floats on an island of
compacted coffee grinds
and its streets, buildings, inhabitants
and officials are all

data jewelry breeders

lo, down

a greybeard economy Toyota cellphone phasmid
smokes a cigarillo
on the Rhine (dressed as a cowgirl)

a truculent black expensive thang
is stored
by a palsied gloating

through the door of the halting
the lie is settled
pure light
knows all packets attaching


a dreaming packet replication scheme
merges two bogus revenue displacement accounts
into a single decorative tax shelter omen

some financial pilgrims come glower back
at the sign, but their identities are stolen

by a rogue pillowcase.

Monkey Mantis Song Key Climbing Its Grapevine Beard Ladder Orchestress

jagaririboom haste: the scene was filmed as closely to the one in the golden triangle as possible, a trickle of actual pearls bouncing off an angled mirror, a syringe's needle entering an aureola.

jagaririboom haste: notice that within the pearl poem, poem takes pearl for 'peril'.

jagaririboom haste: then an ensuing combinatory scene: scenes of peril within a labyrinthine aureola. the exit being called something like neepleheim. The minotaru?
It is the haste, or Doctor, figured as a detective, but not composed: Something like a comedy, a doctor wearing wide T for horn, takes needle dripping, the suase.

It is.
jagaririboom haste: I came here for awhile.
In the years that followed:

Guava. The food got worse.
Attention to detail waned, or waxed.

A more hairless time ensued.
Instead of a person telling you what to think, imagine a
person telling you:

Just try not to think anything
in particular, and then

it is a thin fingered hat

Don Manifoldust

"planet speed tuscany"

Playing With Skulls Like Toy Cars

manatea turn away,
thus the pre-oil speaks
its thick intelligent

it is sweeter
if bombastic
more better
if its beastly

name could not be shook
from the bark
as the locust
from the locust tree

thou dost not need me
for my song, i'm
outside the colonnade

but sit
under the pecan tree
where the starving
black cat

somehow still prowls
ribs protruding
thus banal

oceans come
with dead boats
on their doorsteps

Monday, June 21, 2010

Obi Wan, Yukata Faun, Takokasan

peach surf on air
surf like jellybean
its shock absorber
the skull absurder
peach with green velvet

kneel before the doobie
get down on patella
and begin to towell
the total chrome peach

11 vertical
11 horizontal
11 ertical
11 orizontal

heavy patterned sound
all even with the oddness
finally gott

it got
though Y
never no

peach surf on air
and as the rheos tains
the banderoad

toad's gift scoff
but not result
or elfish

times of indication
determined to be determined
answers itself

answering itself
the vast open window
the curved and thus rare glass

its expensive family
detained by detaining

it ain't necessarily so
now the movie lies fresh
upon the sign

we prepare the launch sequence
orange cables

you stamp me
i can't stamp back
you stamp me
i can't stamp back

your power is enormous
though i made the stamp

"Octopus Grandmother
Takes Your Taco House."


Don Splicio,

I hope the lemons I sent you
found the girls happy, awake,
and without lesion, again.
If I ever fall asleep in that
terrible place again, would
you please tell Mr. Cormac
that the gash is not a suitable
patio. Deep double duals
keeping into out School Annual
banter. I know a girl named Amy
that will talk until make a funny
sign with your foot. It's delaxing.
I think school is already a paralegal for all the same reasons
as adventure immigration. To many in the 13th century, a good day consisted of something like

a small bruise
minimal stomach damage
journeying again
from mining camps
to adhocent plague areas

Don Splicio,

We are lying for our gruel,
and may even meet Tom Selleck.

The Synchronized Balloon Tears of Mount Rushmore

The Taj Mahal
motor boat engine
might enter
the changeless
en Gobi

a single
for each finger
hides above
the center

the illusion
of the balloon tears
as they go against
the natural order
down the face

the remnants
as loosed on ribbons
are like christmas

curling green caterpillars
my nose owns a mustache of

the sticky sparkly
as they enter
the shadow of the city
of Wayang
their hooked crooked
salmon samurai jaws

dangling jade pork pupas
which sit like decibels
along the thin horizon
like smoke
from glass spires
attended by the cheap
green prayer

its rug
the solemn wire

the halo
as the invisible
passes within

the decoration's
universal embrace
can be so upsetting
now that we are
trapped under this
while the parade
goes raging

coral flame perch
gum wrapper

Friday, June 18, 2010

Sham Beware, Piulicity Get Tonch!

polo 250 drank
max enlighten

gone green gorilla eraser
heavy encyclopedia
Larousse Gastronomique

aghast in lieu of economique
it's ruse
which can ever

cat to the bubble chair
cat to the lap

dark hearth
no song come out

history mixed up
for art's sake

the long steel bed
the tiny grains
to fill it

their heads like bags
we crawled out of
blonde mushroom noodled
dog faces

champagne colored berries
erupt between the toes
and white bricks
get up in a chimney
down in a bar

curve around
with inner parapets
that the glass reaches across

the family will deny its screeches
and place the severed salutation
its hoof a sheaf of keys

the faun
which had arrived
from distant foundries
from magnificent origins
whose elbows
were globular combinations
the locks which hung

the strange gratifying sound
of the air rushing out
from a mechanical seal

the stone's name
bored two-faced little shooting
its spurs worn like a mustache

the lava
once again
bringing the ambassador
to his knees

the cactus
of red meat
whose thorns
are ready
to write anything

the tremor with no mind
to speak of

Khaki Nut Redux By Half-Moose!

Check out Tom's cartoon on Half-Moose w/ a Twist
based on one of my scribblin's, here.

Song Prose Nausea

undso the inksam interjaculatron, its cascadia ever adullamite,
its feffy troulades, its bright dis-ease a sudden squall that smites
a large dinner party mute, or into admiration, strange instruments
brought by strangers for reasons unknown

what is tied around their throats?
what is that floppy thing that tingles
in the mote?

O crisp and crystalline wavers, those
rippled pages of glass that are brought out
and through which hovering beer amoebas
may be seen, as on the pages of a magazine,
headless minah cats proffer sugar
to a zither.

June rhymes with Boon.
A building to resemble a bifurcat-
ing spinal column, spy gnarl,
panopticon opts for pan's icon,
the goat legged grapheme
now mute, blistered
with evening wells

those illuminated night time glasses they all wear
to the ball

transparent eye horns
pulled out like the taffy tits
of the goddess of sounds,

her delicate neck
she takes us through
sacred broken glass
and into the liquid navel
of her gasp

what, its what
it laid interred

a lint turd
to recompense
the heaviest bell
in the world

O peace is an old penny washed by a cross-eyed loser in the rain.

Til y gwynt yn marw i lawr,
byddwn yn eistedd dro, rhoi
bagiau o greigiau ar gopaon
moron ar gyfer y bobl hebog
mwnci i roi y tu mewn eu het-
iau caill ar gyfer pecynnau
atgyweirio selsig, ac ar gy-
fer cwpanu arwyddion fel pyl-
lau o babanod yn ein cledrau
olewog ..

O heddwch yn hen geiniog ol-
chi gan collwr traws-llygaid
yn y glaw. Ac fel golchi ymen-
nydd yn y gwter gan twr, mae
gormod o dduw-cyfrgolledig bobl
symud eu coes ffyn i fyny ac
i lawr fel peiriannau mathru
menyn, haid o Gallai gwenyn
yn pigo bwncath hapus yn
ffrind gorau os yw ei fangs
yn euraidd hafau mewn te glyd.

Erbyn duw, yr wyneb pretzel
troellog, ei fod yn gynnes
yn y fan ysgubor gyda'r hen
dylluan snores drwy amser
cinio, ond deffro ar gyfer
y gloch pwdin bob tro.

I gave you head in a potato wagon.

una pequeña serpiente ha entrado
en mi cabeza see on tigu, kelle
pea on paat kjo është një përbin
dësh të cilit dashuri është një
gotë és un anhel de canonada de
boira per Tractatus Se on äiti
kaiken säädetyn turvassa Miami
une chose exquise est le serpent,
qui choisit mon crâne comme une
boîte de vivre dans Es ist ein
dunkles Haar verknotet Insel
kommen, um in der Dusche spiel
en Der er et stort område, hvor
sollyset træder ind i en hul Dit
gaan 'n kromme այն է մտնում մի
ուրվագիծ яна ўступіць у крывой het
ingaan van een bocht bihurgune ba
tean sartzen damae'n mynd i mewn
i gromlin nó đi vào một đường cong
bir eğri girerglava krivi kača o
tok las huvudet är en böjd orm ö
hårég er löngun til að hárið frá
langt í burtu snákur eyja höfuð
Se mwen menm Nostalgie cheve ou
nan yon zile tan lwen sèpan tèt
Is é mo bolg spume sean-aerach
Κατάγομαι από μια θλιβερή περι
οχή Moje čelist je plná medu a
žluči, a je to složité mechan
ické okno la meva mandíbula es
tà ple de mel i la bilis, i és
complex, és una finestra a tra
vés del qual mecànica putes mir
acle es veuen Sono finito in un
a patata i memberimu kepala dal
am gerobak kentang

Thursday, June 17, 2010


To Mumble

toys from the attic


like: I

spend maybe it has been one of of a butter, and echo of the make the hints of she waved Southern Gentleman. I bicycle. Strings: Southern Gentleman: an elderly black woman on seemed like me, or a hat which said: Good Morning. After talk to my recumbent pike which wears wines, they're were themselves wave. And oddly in a Mine is 30 minutes like riding a creamy. To which 1400's, parodies said something my faux-medieval like: I allocation, balance, and the Sommelier water! I loved as a the trail, was that, it makes me it, somehow, my experience in something in front with hat. Thinking her dog tasting some a replica multi-plexing involved have remarkable remember a an SG was that Venetian turned on the image a big floppy sort of straw pseudo-cowboy considering myself pin found in in northern Belgium. It starting to of sensors on of pilgrimage badges. plunging to a feat! the early the jester am one. My my tongue! *Quite and I depicts a today as first act everybody on while riding 2000's in like Venetian is both a butter churn as parodies when her, and to be saline, wines tend rather lovely he had first made Venetian wines. I If udder, the Katy in the waved to on a carnival pins, which I noticed and wearing of sea natural data in my replied: Really, Southern Gentleman, enough, an and even recent experience of a bog pissing in.* This trail walking extra arrays mouth tasted jester surfing the wine and Southern, I by and sea-water. And suddenly hat badged

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Fake Blood

like a ring of red cabbages
around its single massive eye

like around
its imaging sensor
as if the leaves of its books
were thighs

mega fluff
the yunka bus

it all uses
extendable chin powder
to quality
the mirrored mer

to qualify
Y and its Mynonia

chiral choral

I give them
with red cabbage

the whole space of the well
is very intimate, loving, and discrete

philosophically speaking


Phan G


Totally Like Huncke, Dorje.. Whatever. Euro-Spy Genre.

Caviar everywhere
in rude incumbent shews

the shrews went tidal
under genewrations
of Mabuse

Dragon Actor
Doctor Agon Wagon

there is a little box
upoim ur head
and within its wall

a song of caviar is spread

My Surgeon
is a sturgeon
and his hands
are twelve feet long

and my sturgeon
is aburgeon
with a dank
colostomy bong

and the Chirurgeon
goes a purgin' any
time he feeels afit

and the deedle
is adoodle like
a bug a conica pit

o sweet jasper
you're in aspen
where the white trees
hiss and gris

where the mapsters
and the napster
are as fresh
as sniffy dee

oh my legions
oh my legions
of micro cellular frown

your're the reason
the reason

for this caviar faced clown
and the season is good
for chuck wagon wood
and season is nice

to do it not once
but twice

said it alllllllll
said it alllll
said it aaaaaahhhhhllllllllllll

tattoo doll

X u date
N trow virt
Lo can beem

and viddle chicken too

why the turkey
and the badger


wawawawa woo

Thai-style Bat Head Soup.

the whole building now
clear and transparent
odorless and hovering

and the ladies and men inside
armless, and legless except
for the tendril clouds
which fork from splatters of
crystal plugs

i say to you

crystal balloon face tragedy

and you say

box of hollow horror

i say

simply light follows itself
the rush, the inrush of violent
high-voltage puppet heads
whose every litany of inner~

you interrupt me
with a tuning fork throwing knife
stuck into my

the whole building now
clear and transparent
odorless and hovering

and the ladies and men inside
armless, and legless except
for the tendril clouds
which fork from splatters of
crystal plugs

i say to you

thinking completes the thinking

the hollow empty building
that hovers

is like a meandering cube
that split
and continued to meander

a refrain
repeating nothing


gnostic ending


pretty like an aria in the stones
the secret house

was a glass snake
and could not be seen by the speakers
at all

in the hole where the spasm had lain

The last Roman
the dumb weirdo Christians
he had caused to proliferate

by not being evil enough
and thus allowing a greater evil

The last Christian
not being

Bat Masterson.

The transparent building
started to clog and sink
with chocolate eggs.


you're a nasturtium, you're a vein,
you're a communist thought process~

Bat Masterson was here.


No more the Cedar Parlour's formal gloom
With dulness chills, 'tis now the Living Room;
Where Guests, to whim, or taste, or fancy true,
Scatter'd in groups, their different plans pursue.
Here Politicians eagerly relate
The last day's news, or the last night's debate,
And there a Lover's conquer'd by Check-mate.
Here books of poetry and books of prints
Furnish aspiring Artists with new hints;
Flow'rs, landscapes, figures, cram'd in one portfolio,
There blend discordant tints to form an olio.
While discords twanging from the half-tun'd harp,
Make dulness cheerful, changing flat to sharp.
Here, 'midst exotic plants, the curious maid
Of Greek and Latin seems no more afraid.
There lounging Beaux and Belles enjoy their folly,
Nor less enjoying learned melancholy.
Silent midst crowds the Doctor here looks big,
Wrap'd in his own importance and his wig.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Diamonds in its Cheese Brows

In dappled soda minutes, the glom
would terrestrian sidewalk
to Modigliani's head house hideaway

I will see your six-foot long cucumber
and raise you
as a girl

glossy black
hard shelled
demon skull
range rover

under the dapple of the animated
holographic credit card trees
my lover came to me

passing speed of sound
zippy rodlets through multi-purpose
orificial syndicalism

dress like
of peace pipe

white cue
ball eyes
number fives

eyes in palm
psalms of napalm

brain fang columns
with stretchy nippilene

for she-shy
say toulouse lautrec brand
running shoe
i do you

you are heavy
in this freaky wicker basket
on a telescopic javelintenna

but your steaming collander jowls
get my taint spaghetti flowing

hot purple taint spaghetti
squirts out into my sizzling beaver-tailed
tap-dance-skillet heels

ippi-bo-luka issa bissa


Modigliani mate with Charo

offspring lives in replica

of femur bone

lives like the duc d'Orleans

Is the inside finished?
Is the outside?

If you think it's funny to see
a little guy, a painter
dressed from head to toe
in white

but with a little dog penis hanging out,

"Wild Redpea is its name."

please light
your pee-pee

A powdered amoeba wig
is hovering in the

sky - mola - bakery

Graceless, Unending, Torment

a spanish architect
lay disassembled
on the bed

trippple nippples
has popcorn dumbo ears,
the earnest money
is displaced by bjork

b.c. king

a child's weird prayer had been answered
with the louvered faceplate
shedding purple light serenely down
onto mirrored food cube replicas
summoned into being
with a touch
to another's
keypad smile

the odd woolen marble
continued on its sojourn
through infinite bizarrity

Monday, June 14, 2010

Punitive Scrambles

How kind the visual arts,
I stared all day
at a Robin's egg.

In the flowers
which felt like
a Spanish song,

the followers
from its head,
Fernando Sor, and
quiet Montserrat,

Time, manifold
awakener, your
baby is a cell
phone breaker

Muck yacks
to Muck.

Earth now, the body
of the beast's
bling, ie:



Sunday, June 13, 2010

owl equal reissue

hot lunch, champagne,
and living attendants, such
is the curious nature
of rural containments.

and thus, when solidly standing
near its usual menhirs
of mineral ice, the nicest
pallor selects a shoe,

here, eggs, are dipped
in high gloss sunshine
and swarm between
the bodiless legs,

here, few are concerned
with the cocket and the
doozer the duffer eases
into view, as finely fobbed
foot fumage joins readily
the maletolt plum,

its shrug a sweetener.


All form is subversion, and
Underneath the lemon bough
Nothing sings, its voice
Sweeter than any
In acclivous Chalcis,
Where red water runs
Through terracotta
Where Sempill
Swims with the
Esox lucius...


He is often elongated by elan,
but Shirley just bought a handbag
for $184. Crab, east and west.

It is a strange daisy.
Faux Regency.
Faun Agency.


Saturday, June 12, 2010

Able Psy, and Ulpable Irkny

[for the Dan and Beersheba of Urquhart]

His career in life began in the year 1692,
when he was appointed a captain in
Lord Tullibardine's regiment, but he
resigned his commission in order to
bellow gelatino-isophote in the
genatino medium, to compose, and,
or compote, a metred nitrate, and to
note phot, wot, among the photino'd

He seized the Dowager Lady Lovat
in her own house, caused a priest
to marry them against her consent,
cut her stays open with his dirk, and,
assisted by his ruffians, tore off her
clothes, forced her into bed, to
become a 115 printed on a BB,
a rug silvered sourness turning
toward itself as Golagros, and

In Brugges, now being, it is said
was to discover that Resorcinol
introduced into the animal organism
is converted into a sulphonic acid,
but according to the Tullibardine bock,
its arc is half cock out all surphonic,
columns of roses support a jutting
skull-less chin bone,

as on
26 September 1687, when
an Ottoman Turk ammunition dump
inside the Parthenon was
ignited by Venetian bombardment.

For future reference:

Spy out the joints
in a harness, as any
thoughtography's wood
is all wooliness like
zinc's is all zinco.


A carbunculine
timbrel of tophaceous
Eden founds those decades
of steely cool Arneis,
in the hills of Roero
to the northwest of Alba
where the Null Orfeour
has wrought a strange
galley of bend-lether:

Who doubteth, that is not blinded
with the ablepsie of an implicite zeal?

Friday, June 11, 2010


Matthew Josephson. Galimathias. New York: Broom, 1923.

Mopar Alte Uhr

Its string must mud-bush sugar wane,
the turning vane, its hollow path~
angorada-mere to swap-hope:

Naoiiaaahihao, the thin
gin sheet hovers, tiny
juniper berry growlems enact
a blue masqued icon
for slang:

Buttock boats
can give a play
from backs
to omniscients'
cobra spoons~

in the audience

give onto to caviar

all one sees

balloon blunderbusses
stretched out
from tinkly foreheads

leaf masks
with eyeholes covered
in transparent lens beetles
which produce the text

of the play
in the segments
of their abdomen

its string is tingling
strange is the string growing wings
its day
still lingering

or notwich
thathangs from a single dorsal wing
bisecting the cranium thing

it's like i'd see
that bodiless chattering head
using the banister of the long sweet ascendant
as a monorail

consciuncle to

Aunt Disney
as a young man
trapped in the workshop
of the black forest clock maker

wearing a green leather
speak any? easy?

yoff hon jibu!

A baker with an icing mustache


Thursday, June 10, 2010


O hark, ill lance,
lance bewedded and bewebbed
to its arc now flung, to pierce
between the rung, where snakes
and ladders add must tongue,
the rogue defying rogue
under the armsway
or sticky spot
to give its

bemurk'd, or marked
by beings of love

i give you
a honeycombed silhouette
in the round
dripping with oil

the gestus
or suggestus
of that, or sthis,
the stively moolveeship

canny, the neglisse',
the poieurrrrare'

white horses fucking
became the screen
upon which the movie was

scenes of hollow letters
in which dogs war

swerving, but with their
teeth as guides
and lances

your eye is but a childe
and every word its world
an innard inward strange


Ode to a Slithering Margrave

That lives in my towel, but
One floor down: defense!

Defense! defense!
Frontier! frontier! frontier!

(They live in hear)[...]

Bread hands legion on the inward curling towel,
Town bright with head-jugs [smile, or frown]
Filling themselves where
A fountain of towels lay in cars [llama-hydrant-axe-heads]

The slithering Margrave, its big boon urban drum,
The lewd invader's love, star shaped-towels
Are limp on cross ponies.

Here, I've cut back the dirt,
And odalisque soap knights
In transparent verbena-smelling armor
Call out from flexing bullet cars
Giving towel:

Our cash is printed
With the emmage of the ear
A different ear!


The Margrave
Is a dong in beer
With ears
(W/ towel halo ahover, aspin)[...]

Where does the Margrave begin, its
Body like a blob of jug-heads filling themselves
On dirt and ponies?

The lavender drool of gems
From alabaster balcony lips
Made sanguine by clusters of harps
Spinning at incredible speeds...

What's to heed? )hear*

Rays of jug heads bounce from our towels
And our cloth

Is holy tary.

What dimension is given to Margrave, is thus given
To all the Jugheads and their towels, proclaim!

A monster veneris
Under green shorts
Could leaven any blob of~

Defense! defense!
Frontier! frontier!

You'd never have to see that Margrave crawl again!

Never neeed to see that poor dong
crawling on ears like elbows
Upon a river of towel to Gurdin.

A place where Jugheads live inside
The dirt and pony slide,

Avalanche and architecture
Being vaguely similar...

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Khaki Nut Soup

Like a messy desk which carries
an empty oval frame, a face with a
pencil for a nose made a drawing
inside the hollow glass columns
that form'd that very desk's own legs,
Vira Silenti.

You could see a soup bowl descend
from a hole in the ceiling,
Vira Silenti.

You could see it come to rest
on the ridiculous thigh pillow pads
informing your pajama pants,
Sira Virenti.

There are soup elevators
in the legs of your desk,
and your desk wear pants
to hide them.

You are a hole.
A hole full of soup.
Elevator soup, wearing
a straw hat
which wears a straw head,
a tiny little woven head
stuffed with tissue paper,
it's ewe dead,

and made into mutton
like the nutty tomb.


Tinto Brass is having dinner
inside a statue of a negro.

He's eating a microbial silence.
He's editing by proxy.
He's taking off the clothes of a chicken,
and folding them inside the elevator.
He's doing origami with chicken clothes.

He can make a chicken
with lamb's wool.

He can make a soup fountain elevator
from his naked erotic desk.

Vira Silenti.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010


Its door a sinkfoly:

sign takes a jab
{hic} berval signaxilene
the schitzo's stroll
from flat toe
to E minor

What is Joshua's role
among the p/ants

say he is the royal
holder of the lens

and this
is the werewolf plant
its long purple wedding cake
a kind of telephone cord helix-stair

Dennis Hopper and Anthony Hopkins
crossbred into

The hooka-smoking smoking caterpillar
the hubble
bubble telescope
is leering

bubbles drift
casually around the mass

as climbed by the rising tide
of brew he he
its mockin' machen

steely tome

4 Orpheus
with his giant glass
mechanical string plucking tablets
and steam-powered lungs

They play
from sheets of cheese

They play the holes
and are at ease

but their sanctuary
is the same dumb secret

shown by the shaman
is was and always will be

notes the univirstallity
of the syncellus

as within reach
History as in the beat, or Platonic mode

A single huge animal
The only animal, possibly
its history

as the present


A good title (arguably)
might be


U*de/ it git wuh

YIKES! (who called Charley Oz?)

A pot broke on the lawn
and things like salamander hands
went down to greet the rushing torrents

buffalo on a nickel
buffalo tenders
for a pickup full of

let the first plant sing
a wily curse

let the mailman
come in bag-drag
or if dread is ice

let the antarctic
suddenly build resolute casinos
and giant igloos made for gambling

who cares.

Emperor 1 says to its infinite dread:

I'll show them all, I'll first build a wall
for no reason, and have it circumscribe the globe
like the midgard serpent, and I'll have it made of human

Then I'll cultivate the intricate surface of those bones
for a thousand years

a flowering orgy occurs
a wedding ring
to match
the weirdest day

as if a verb counter
could be installed

one for the outside
and one for the in




noise muscle
harks all news
its miracle

drawn in on
cliche'-looking haunches

the lower parts?

yes, maybe something from
a slipper's meal

but its top?

The hunchback sprouts hyacinths!

and maybe has a mohawk of vibrating nipples
spurting coffee!

A Dream of Denial.

Nothing was left of me
But my wrong foot
And my shoulder's rueful mirror.
They lay white as the skin of a spidermonkey floating
In a hammock of snow toward a dark sinkhole
stilted and trained by wind.
Inside the stream, I dreamed off.

A parade of gold women
Sang softly above me, faint mosquitoes
near towering water explosions.

So I waited, in my festive corridor.
I listened at the sea for shoulder paddle arrays
To call me.
I knew that, somewhere outside, the feathered horse
Stood saddled, browsing naked in the grass,
Waiting for me
to unbuckle my hay-pants.

Alfalfa bustles were worn
by Andy Capp in French
18th Century Townhomes
along The Nile.

Roadwork Ahead

if you talibate //// the wall which is a lens
the door //// which is a sieve //// the {house} which lives
in a hat, what

will the tally ban?

Nabbed beds stabbed full of animal headed beads?

White water caught in flagrant scenes of romance
and fragrance?

What tally was there when the saguaro came to bloom
and stopped the thin orange line that was nowhere,

a hole where feathered breaths
nabbed beds
stabbed full of animal headed beads?

What is not animal headed?

The lake whose ruby shadow is emerald?

The divine is indifference personified
as the indulgence we leave stabbed into animal bedding.

Architectural calligraphy
or elegantly designed spaces have never been easy to muster
but I never needed to claim

divine intervention

[too soft]

invention (as a general property of this place)
might be called

so as to highlight the contentious quality of its remainder
with vent.

The birdsong
which is injected
among the above mentioned

sparkles out
between wingbeats

ala nibterjulalagruhishti

a growling gem loam
is mulling your hide
in days

and dazed nicked
with nights nachted

_ |
/-''`\ .' `..Y ,''''''''-.._
__ `-\ .' | / `.
| \ ,|.' | / `.
| `''' \ \-'\L _,._ \
.' `''\.| ' _| \
| ___ ,'`---=P=._ \
| //. `-. / _-' '-._ |
| | \ | `.| / ,Y''''\. \ |
|_ ` .' ` .| ,/ ,' \ |
||| \ 'b/=....,-' | |
||| | ,'|-._ / .'
' | | ,' \ `-.._ / ,'
`. ,' ,' | `-._- ,'
'' _,' .' ,.--''\ _,'
,'''':]`\..__ ,' ,-' |_,-'
`.. :' `'-Y^-..\......,''|
\'-. ,' / ____ /
` | / / ,-' _:= |
`.| ,' / / <:' '.
|| / / | '-.b `.
/ / .' | .-' \
o / [ | '. '--.._ \
|`. ' / \ ' | <=-' \
| 'Y..P...bL___ \ ]' |
| ,-' / \ `''''\---./=..._ |
|,' _/ `. `._/ [ |
,' \ ----'' |
,' `. -._ |
,-' '-. `-..___/
' '`".

Monday, June 7, 2010

Feeding Stalin Clones To Yetis

In here they feed clones of Stalin to the Yeti,
and from the architect's video mandala legend,
I see

the waterfall of petrified babies
has halted to reveal an oval
membrane bulge
which this gat handle after agate
should remain

Maria with the tyrant's knife
flaying spather
an all-time high
adeno edge fulcrum
long clasp actograph
in which the k and w
of knife and write
were originally

long dark hair-like rooms
behind the realistic arm

Stalins are stacked casually behind the
and each freedom loving cell
is enslaved to a freedom-loving collective
to whatever idiotic silence
the gravy milked from the sausage
when the winter wasn't looking

snow white wrought iron
could replace the difference

the patio at the epicenter
of the wrought iron brain cameo's

role-playing doctor's bag.

glory is twine-felled
but under its gloomiest traditions
the main-frame is held to be a
material reward?

I've seen the Heraldo,
it's liver-spotted Gaudi-rama,
and now I am just stunned into whatever
omission the cryogenics officer
ingects into my

hang nail.

Imagine me as a realistic hollow jesus wall hanging
a crucifix
in which the latest Intel 50 processor computer
with Terra-byte computer
and DSL wifi-modem are combined

no imagine it is Satan crucified,
and that Satan is a woman, I mean
a combination desk top tower and wifi modem.

They are all Stalin.


Think of Altlanta. Saint. Stalin.
As Clone food.
For Cellphone headed Yeti.
It's like the Boobtube
became an ideology,
or revealed the fundamental insanity

of the Songwizard's

A dungeon of light.
Skill is just another addiction.

Pass by these dioramas one more time:

Octopus with beautiful girl trapped inside its head.
That same scene rendered as a wall-hanging computer.
The same scene as a cellphone.

The Vatican
as a cellphone
to a god
which is an octopus
with a girl inside
its head.

mastering physics

developing anemones along its browser,
memories of the green box which held
its head sloping down to the incandescent
filter array submerged at the letter
of the river


the constable mass, mess,
yes, as, is united in uneasy essays
an assay sorted
by much tinkering blinkered

at 21, the clear gelatin centaurs
were still pulling song across
the prairie

optic nerves
turning into nipple chord arrays
on the back of the craniumph

Haruna says:

touch the blind oval of its guide
the sauntering and empty pleasure

Haruna says huge empty shells are already

Only a glow-erm says

take this between the legs, matha,

Oology ala Eulogy
good as a dug
in its digs


a glow enters the stare of a room
and sockets suck samples
into the paintings
conferring at the surface


braidal eff

for cussing is its shallowed breath
a puma in piano saddle
with sidecups
of cappuccino

capo di signe'
ligne' di signe'

my mask is a living spider,
the face beneath
a sucking pit
to power many foamily

hologram bobbin printer
each thing
with its disagreeing otherness

each other
in agreement
with disagreeable

tertiary syphilis
comparing skeletons
to mirrored taffy

take surface as a gate
the nude child
will hide inside
a slug-like dog

a perfectly spherical sun glass helmet
the skull-less head within

by a glass sculpture
fused to the arc
of what is peripheral
to revulsion

on to organ design
murphy engulfing
the rot of license

the unceasing bottle cannon
the seizure of its hollow bolts
by a distance
confined to distance

Saturday, June 5, 2010


I tried reading Ed Dorn's talk at Naropa
from '77.. I got through a lot of it.
Chicken Itza.

Friday, June 4, 2010

Dreaming of Shiki

my cricket hands
are cold light
fireworks exploding

a firefly
fills the tree
inside my shoe closet

long field
a long person
is sleeping there

the waterfall
of burning crickets
looks like a dead squid

a daikon
looks fine
hovering over a rock

morning fog
is absorbed
by old thick books

a construction worker
speaks with a butterfly
in a barren country road

the snake
with the haiku on
its back, is back

i imagine
having red cherry eyes
a cherry eyed oni!

for Masaoka Shiki


Reading Basho in early Summer
grass pillow heron

beached darkness
where Azaleas caress
the whale's nipples

silo clock
limp synod etched
palatine pause

fish mirroring
absence, its sterno,

Gautier astonished
at M. Robert-Houdin

MOT: How are your vowels working?
ART: Haven't been issued with any, sir?
MOT: I mean, are you constirpated?
ART: No, sir, I volunteered.
MOT: Heavens, man, don't you know the King's English?
ART: No sir, Is he?

For some time, a great calm

Call me sometime.

like when some of the pretty girls
of Mexico City get into those cars
for the Covadonga

that would be late summer
after the massive peyote dolls
would have fallen apart

when the hair tornadoes
exit the cubist fiddles

la suerte de la Garocha
if you know what i mean?

The Weirdo Comments on Silliman.

The pretext

The odd shuffling afterwards:

The name "Banksy" is itself a riff on the idea of an archive, producing, as it were, an 'ersatz' or rather idiomatic 'cartoon'.. There is an old adage, or whatever, from where I can't remember, that "Art is in infinite reserves.." Now I may have misquoted that, and that is part of the way art and archives intermingle and function.

The human body itself
is an archive, as is
the body of the earth.

A fossil
was already
a memory file
a hundred million years
before microsoft.

What all this makes me think
is something close to

If culture and or experience
is merely an economy of labels

is there then some new kind of physics equation that should be coined like

Earth = infinite complexity speaking to infinite stupidity.

What possible actual need could a planet have for recording particular thoughts

matter itself
isn't anything much different
than thought in the first place.

one of the oldest
themes in art

is vanitas.

All of us are here
merely to make memories of


Is that endearing, or is it
'The Society of the Spectacle'?

It is precisely, the joke of generativity itself,

genretivity john-roe-tivity

a gift which keeps on giving.

It wasn't on accident
the ancient egyptians
used the dung beetle
as a figure of the divine.

Just keep adding another layer..

look at the word

Theirry (Theory)(lin)Guetta?

Guetta in Italian is (and note "It a line" and the missing lin)

1. tongue (of a shoe)
2. flap (of an envelope)

or of a controversy?

Tongues lap.


It is all quite transparent
to the seer of words
who knows that he himself
is a word, and that words

are pictures.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

Monkey Pizzle Trees Are Imported. They Used to Be Sacred.

lacking pecker, the
dog sombrero takes to

you'd see a scorch, see,
like as if a goddamned
gray corpse came rocketing
down like a meteor
a big human meteor corpse
made of old tires
and it'd hit Interstate 35
with its god damn chin
and leave a helluva mark

the gulf shrimp

last of 'em for awhile
some old black feller
was dancin' in the alley
i imagine

it's oil
oil is human bodies

atlantis more or less
that's a pop star too
secret code

you can see the Kanjete
if'n you squint
like on greenies

its a big
triangular yellow pi

opionion's journeylism
bad shit paper pontifex

dung beetles
for holy egyptians
i've said all that
it's all in the code

dumb bastards
can't even look at yourselves

wretched and beautiful
mixed up good

just start climbin'
then forget it

put on a goddamned dress
and watch

as the amorphous

Artemis titty zeppelin amoebas
come perform

selective electronic nono's

Like that Italian con-poser feller
with all his "good intentions"

hell, you can say or do anything
and say you had good intentions

but shit, blood and paint
all end up


Doubletree Inn, Rabelais, Texas.

pee-pee on Jason then
the box got tangled on its wig
then pulled the little feller
off his hearse

all the scholars
must undergo
its pig launching

to find out
just how red
the face of the world
could be

if you could see
the stuff of sense
how strange loops
carry carnival mirrors
we hoist and connect
a discrete image
at the joint

it's a specific kind of flex
we're looking for

like the pacific asp
the brown tree snake on Guam

brown shirt
you wear it well

but here I am

the stainless steel liner in the chimney

full head of hair
full tank of gas

chutney doubloons
hovering round my head

like a bubblegum turban
with Brancusi cuckoo clock
to boot

that ass

{the boot has braunguam side-pipes, O Saxony...}

O hirsute cheese banister
hung with mini-key-pad ornaments.

Landlord's Descent

conspiring to the knot hole
penetrating the fovea centralis
the macular phobia
the distinct sensation
that the stillness
is rushing
the eye of the spinning urn
lifting the dress
the amorphous bell
or system or system
of bell-like nodes
each birthed
from the knot-hole
of the conspirasea

art would inspire thee
life never transparent

vesicles left in composition
as the wave passes over
two great traditional bruises
each pulling their own large

from out of prestidigitation's
gasp scale
foam of cobra shale

butterfly cobragina
genuine veni, pinot
let the monumental head come out
among the streets
let the grand old fetish tumble

spirulina tickertape
its weird gnashing
is camouflaged
in particolored streamers

nude spoon spoil moon
petrified colonial lumbar

nothing could be more
the tiny orange alien
found in a tea cup's


Le Douanier
not yet
on a weekend

under wind palm

coffee-colored starfish
debate masseur hotel

concrete scroll

cell phone oval pole
barber whistling
in gray soda

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

The Vision of Tungdal

i think Damien
could be underwater

between flattened
clamshell sentences

the singing rod falls from
on high
to lay low
the soft and sensual

the butterfly

is pinned
the thought
in its popular
festive imagery

Brian Massey

The Hotel California
merging smoothly
with the court of

like a library
we keep quiet
in the green room

come into
like at Kroger

bean salve
between igloo cake
lunchbox chillers

Rebiab to

image by Ricardo Mourato


Señor, a lot of different colored rods
are all around the libertine
and the tom cat
stares down into the street
where the surface of a scanner
is embedded

Your very good health

the scowling driver
pulled out of its home movies

i see Claudia
she's mixing up the
last three years

the droning yet elegant turmoil
of all its like
colored rods, the sample
that is a section of skin
made of wrought iron

to a cactus

he's hitting her
because she's not

you mustn't wiggle

foam rubber Pinocchio snakes
rise into the stadium
bulb the whole bell
the commercial theme
of its business lunch

we ended up
behind some big cactus

drying off with old flags
we'd see in the park
the small child
a mexican
alone in the park
too short for the water fountain

the last of the
native m



as if a plural of anything
was anything but singular

the funny dark bird
with a letter

the terrible heavy stone
caressing you

the pineapple
is like a rat

the libertine
has one long neck
and one long single
lightning bolt
like a stick
the micro chateau
has a sponge like