Wednesday, March 12, 2014

DEFILED! DEFILED! by The Stinking Gloves of Grasse



'and pausing beneathe that what-ek, and hippo-headed style chyle, the debate what-when it concerned it, could, if-could, cad, or as it made the punctuation lighter, in terms of total darkness


you will draw your own conclusion, and there shall be 
no mistakes about it


but you seed
i've already signed my passport into
pontoose fruit wind,
and wound the brass vertebrae
tightly around
the toll-tailed tale,
as my dart to pipe
would style
a sucking abskess


as Alice would before
the stinking glove,
that huge puce dune
of juice


o do not go yet
cargo
the comma cult would had
bad hands give each finger
a burning candle condom
and each capsizing word must finally
drown
in the little feat
which guide its


case history
repair
and when hunched over solomon's nest
see that great golden ladder
x 4

uniquely
satirizing
images of electricity
uniting with horses


cuz I could look at you
Thomas Mann for days
and pudgy hands 


this wasn't just supposed 
to beat the dream sequence
there is a sense that our
wild bridged circuits
could have squirted like taffy
so here comes the commingloss of monkeys
shapes of thread sliced infinitely
into supersonic frictionless
sleep compartments
for huma-huma
photunes


that is was in tho hocked
and still i waried
of the winter's green nipples
the stairs of books which began to sag
under the stink
of gloves


could i trouble you
to receive
another 
bifurcating
virtousk

for if i was a parapet
and you a paramaster
would our slavery
bone the mane?


every time
I enter Venice in June
its just like
cunnilingus on my forehead
purple crickets
pushing velvet merchants
into cricket costumes
to decorate the ham
patched
shoe souls
which fly like flags
o'er the sea
in
myrrh flavored gloves


originally Y
could castle its all purple
pomp
to define mirth otherwise
as if from outside
but gliding along
its felt
sould
soe
different
(movement curdles talking jaws)


pudgy hands again!
don't shave my caption!


I'm convinced that
time is always right
(wrong)
'left'
"arrived"
*


  I'm betting Myrtle
gives that Ichabod Crane Vampire Baudelaire thing
a good crack
right in his transparent
vibratory sternum bone
or the replicative emblembling,
and look her clone
is headless
and helpless
and her ROSENHELMUT
is expanding
&
then ewhsipsers:
'dear, could i sniff
your tiny fermented gloves again'


she says
A cherub
with a cheroot
is groaning
but why forever
deep ancient
undersea temples
clad only on
sumi sumi
inca inca
brufa


more bop
than is generally allowed
if yu
shoot white peas
from your ears
RRRERRROOO
RRRREERRRRIIIIOOOOO



you could say
that nirvana
is a small green light
beside a geometric opossum
the relaxing folds
gravitas
could care for
it too


he hasn't stared at it long enough
there is a piano with gnashing teeth i know
growing from the side of a tree
where a waterfall begins
know your burden
bird-calf-purse attacks


this part of your name
seems full of pearls..
for red.
there is donkey meat
taken by the angels
to fill the great wooden shoes
their black radiator medallions
creak
and pitch
to livid
fickle
lemons


just writing to say
that's I've returned your peak experience
to its tidal raft
the core harmony
shall not cold flank the stalag-mite
endo-meat-tree-osis


come to the oyster with me!


you've reduced the stink down
to a single
dull green mark!


I won't put up with this goddamned reductionism in my museum anymore!
Die you boho-flower-donkey-thing!


nothing remains 
so calm cool
and collectible
as clueless

now turn
and breathe for the
sucking kiss


i just love the way you carve out tinkle toys
from elephant bones, you'd think
I'd cod-skillet moralist math
but instead
the honey pants
gave melody
the knight
off...

smoke
burping
from a hot mug
of shaving
creem


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Irrony Observes The Earthing.