Thursday, January 23, 2014

plauses in the pocession



(take hold of my paratext, greeting)
to board smear when how for foundaries take hold the prisoners all declaim 
how the douanier's ek-oilskin sheds a fogdog camera of milling silent drops
 or silhouette just crazing the cream may with rounded a forking corners the
grey folded fabricant whose tongue gilt ladders periscope along a blind alley
 of transparent hallucinating worms leaves a standing blunt for escarpments
 gone fishing for friendship's smooth jade kirin the body darker than the head
 and the whole form smoothed like a pipe handle from the kisses of acid dusk


(possession is confirmed by gravity)
an onyx symbol laid swaddling in fine grey linen
its constellation of hovering opaque lenses
performing roses upon the gateless gate
no plausibility exists to button


(as are ghosts)
hole this boot in ear
a fluted branch whose song
is a single silver leaf blade
which replaces the empty cage
whose spotlight of pseudopods
at once goes clowning


(within the careful layers of disorder)
ontology
you are solar fellation
which I blind
with my popcorn tiara forehead visor
the great chain of being
alas
is blonde



(the rubble of names sheltering a were-ness) 
Śūnyatāsaptati 
Vigrahavyāvartanī 
Vaidalyaprakaraṇa 
Vyavahārasiddhi 
Yuktiṣāṣṭika 
Catuḥstava 
Ratnāvalī 
Pratītyasamutpādahṝdayakārika 
Sūtrasamuccaya
Bodhicittavivaraṇa 
Suhṛllekha 
Bodhisaṃbhāra 


(gravity wills a trojan horse decorum)
my dog is overflowing
and the svelt pert ballerina
is poised upon the rickets of balcony
the inner POE
whose forehead
sprouts
a delicate crosshair
of Amontillado


(a crazing notion whose vision)
episteam
your blurred machine
if cape you locoined
if capon
by distance
we sleep in transparent blue chicken heads
our skulls pushing silking threads through goblet snakes
hyphen to 
your bubble masts
and drug wax mast head cannons
paper drifting
into stilted cathedrals
of paper
to be rolled on styx


detects an exterior mapped upon our boundary


a yellowed fur
we enter or leave
making brisk symbolic motions
in praise of heat


but to average its penciple's pressing deed that
We dew not one


we sphere weeds
for anarchy


ontology
fellating
semiotics'
whole
at-onts


a bulge through the line
could be anything
even an impasse
which qualifies
quanta
as cant


Why is there no red hot iron statue of Prometheus
glowing in the night?


salad hovers
singing through these canals
made of rusty horse shoes
(star tyger and star aerial)


the great sentence
in all its plastic Fredness
pulling
sucking
saliva from a muscle
the CELTIC peeple
all wearing mohawk sponges


sometime in the past
newspapers
had made me crazy

X-OF


ilsbanf nasnii


a tea of lavender foam
for helmet
and salamanders
for ears


I get no good gravy
but notice
my grey linen suit remains
but all the onyx
is horses


PEGASUS
you
are the 18th century
for a contemporary
RUDABAYGA


a blue velvet mask
for an invisibble mahn


the terse hippies of germ any
brightly clad daisy
your nurse
to a tea kettle
(just drop it they said)


but I push OHN
thru
Gravid teases


looking above
my own Bertrand Deborn this way
for signs


Whose ROMANTIC DEVO?


whose Samurai suddenly
Philadelphia
in lace
stained with
resonating masks


this heavy mask
speaks only to children
whose black asides
are lost
in cherish mote


Ahh Germane is Germany
the HOLY a HYLE and a GULL


an Ophelian minstrel platter
sent to test the guests
their verve
for raising hands
and arms 
against it
(but who comes first?)


It is a brat
no worse for wear
but always
pushing
its grey jacket
to the gap


How is this ever okay, exactly?


There is no significance to anything,
nor lack of significance.

Water is travel
awaiting
your most elegant kiss.


read the words
and suffer the revolt


the journey will define itself
whose amorphous blue door
is the tranquill zebra
of effort


THE LEFT HAND PATH ENCODED FIRMLY
in the joy of motoring
and style


a little bird owned me


tugging too and frow
on a candle
of shadows


The Great Work
is the pause.


this is no child murder.


this is no nudity.


I move to conjoin
heaven and earth
with a drainpipe
of clearance sales
upon a temple
to
mild dew
(gravity is itself drawing, the poison in and out like breathing)


Why CANT you, UNDERSTAND


The thought is a room


and the instrument
all scattered
beyond it


this prayer
is a grey jacket
i find by feeling
in a dark room


a shadow
feeling for shadows
near an oily macrame' bulb swing
depicting mutant owls
whose feet
are green faucets

Alchemy
is
Kedds.