Friday, February 28, 2014

Ruined green cathedrals, bathing beauties, and sea-going sculpture, all disconverge on scruple-tongue.

steak sweet
potato wellness formula
kleenex soup kombucha
in strabusiness
I found myself
a mustache curler
demos to demos
for our cave-wry'd wigging

a crock o'dilator
to confound
the narrowing

chest case
basket case
in rough carpets
the sliding remains
faux-vision fades
its colors moving brighter

I have bring-ed mother
she prefers the live icon
to television

a crude waiting it seems would cruel
the harness of good huihuizenga
a great fellow
donating honorable zings
to the high hound
the speaking shadows
the fleece warrens
crackling with electric
wheezing hoods
shrouded pillars
and spin

to think, it all started with herm
"tripping mews"

Diogenes first conceived of the lantern
in the dream of a satiate horse
this plume will be my goose-egg
he cried
for my twin erection lies
at the crux of strabismus
and schitzopodality
"I am the way beyond the crab-people.."

and so then
the sea witch put her neck
in the heavy jet black torque
her neck claws
accessing controls
pulling up view screens
rows and rows of digital
flip-top cauldrons
bubble bubble toil and double

my wound must breathe in thicket

where punctum arcs a shadow
only resonyms will tame
what wormius knew
was only tithes
to water
in magesty

I may not block the illegible curse
but its glue will purple
as a sheet
never touching my sacred brow
the tail of the world
is a dancing spew

this beard of pipes
can never remain
purely a spectacle

The camera is not your fault,
nor your earthquake

I can see I'm going to have a lot of work today
inside the creased piano ledger

(what he is really saying is):
young women on the banks of the seine
about to be attacked by a light saber

Romanticism's new digs
may only be entered through a star-shaped mirror
you know you have won
if you are wearing custom

I refuse to eat "smoke turtle" with you!

5000 more ping pong tables please
and include the REQUISITE 
spoon paddles
and napkin scorecards

I picked a bad place
to become a living icon

glass nipples
are the most beautiful
and chickens are alaways trapped unside
it perfumes

Celadon, you are awakening
to Celadon.

this final hyphen will allows us
to scale the walls of reason
and reach the infinitely closed

When I mimic a blood waterfall
your image mimics
a trembling

as an erotic nun
I entered the republican party
declaring justice for plebs
and hot lice
for hit parade head sores

works for modernism
but will openly reveal
its primitivist tendencies
under close scrupulotion

fig lute
sweetly beckons
to groves
of green tapestrions


meat chess
as developed
by picnic ted

and to think
duchamp was the man beside you

i feel lazy 
in all the former

Duchamp appears on the ancient tokens
as the yogic lord
or tamer of beasts

as an architect
I worked with birds
to aid in the design
of my sea-going

what is it for

If you will just put the napkin in your mouth
your head may work a bit better

I get along with the idea of painting.

and sometimes
a nose-flute
will surprise you...