Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Posh Virus Thread




old and ugly with ideology
the world teeters on.

the virus veered through
the leering rows
of lyres.

as the lyricist had supposed
but what had not been disclosed
was the lyrus.

its virlust
still dreaming
to the dust.

its placental mate
of goddess fate.

put a fire
in the oven.

now the bun
now the gun
now the code
and so forth.

The park is lovely
wandering groups of
distant smudges
play with toy boats
in an ornamental lake.

presided over
by Alice
and the Wildensteins.

dappling its grey
tank body
its metal flippers
the horrific monolith
its mouth of cold red stone
where wine's iridescent seeking
prevails.

alginate
General Custer
Astronaut manga.

transparent lamb's vine
graffito
stickers
jellied bones in a chain
to say good luck
and all that.

on the river with Tom Sawyer
saw your words
and your pleasant tales
of every murder solved.

in one stroke
typewriter.

typewriter
in the clouds
the secret sacrificial meat
production's mondo
collapsing bottle
reclines.

Rodin
perfumery,

Perry
Rodin,

There is the threat
of industrial photography
as well.