Monday, May 5, 2014

As Doth Homer Doh In Periplum, "So Doth Every Caption Give Sup To The Canny Goat"


to the irrish jagged hunter,
only the psyfizzphusian narratives
are best-
ial


renting water
renting time
renting food
your possession seems
somewhat 
premature


in the ego's autumnal feud,
come molest my essential 
and indubitable bars of dew..
come to cilicia
ye hunchbacks
of thatched goldenrod


awake! awake!
for the constant surface is a mass,
amassing, and a great light breaks
from a great dark upon a great lateness,
its wen, and wheeling..


and each periplum,
by its united renunciation
disgorges a smooth
and charcoal pearl,
holllow as a sentence,
and cold as a changling,
left to extinguish
an eternal flame...


I would sing along with you,
but I myself am song,
sung standing in the mouth
of a giant
S-ling:
VINI-OLIO MACELLER!


One sometimes wonders about language,
when the narrative misobeys certain absolutely 
self-evident features.
Culture envelopes in Fiction, that is to say,
it progresses by means of a schitzo's stroll:

Toiling yet untiring,
we connected up these wriggling bones.


there is a stranger beauty
to this unequivocally unfinished game.
Hold forth an enormous key
to the setting sun, 
Longinus.


Periplum, not as land looks on a map
But as sea bord seen by men sailing,
oy oy oufiche!


In these walls of rushing gold 
I made my home,
red falcon,
red mary,
read drawing
to delta forged.


There is only one self,
and all human population
is an example of schitzooid perfsaviour..


We're hear
to pervorn
the oology.


now
take up your long bottles
as I do,
for drinkeye gaffs
no creative slothery,
and only cuff's cursory
wills blank edge
to whrything..


could it be
that the moon's being
is a boon swinging out
to reflect
some basic structure
as ontology may puppet even
a wind
telling of
invisible strings


every punctum in the light is bright
a banded egg
through whose shallow shell
we see a black yolk
like a witch's oaken mole
budding with a single
uncleansible purl
to ward the trackless
entries.


I knew it!
Hunchback
means
Poet!


But I do care!
I care ever so much for all of you,
and I can never say otherwise!


Growth often gets in the way
of this perfected melancholy,
but it can never eclipse
its perennially branching
oracle
for nonsense touches
vortical to vertical
and cortical 
to clod.


i'm too shocked to worship you anymore.


passions often bring about dishonourable ends,
but every end remains
an honour
among theeves.


Is Justice revenge,
or just the glorious belching
of a beautiful
and insane machine
lifted up like a blind totem
to scream
at the madness of suns
in their ponderous
and nakred gentility


light
is tantamount
to a drowning in pearls.


instead you could have
climbed a rope of spittle
into a nest of nameless
friars


your wand touched me
and my twig-crag you,
so let our ourobouros remain
a film called
OUR CRAZY BUFFET..


Sometimes the hook sets
but there is little value
in climbing the building.
Some writers just stayed at home
friddling their letters through the giblet
on a gutter gurney.


Remember me?

We entered the statue
clad only in lime green mittens!


There's something 
dark and sacred
about comedy, but
I never knew what it was.


You can lead a horse to poetry,
but you can't grow wings.


I'd like to have an exoskeletal contrivance
that would allow me move like a tadpole
in shivvery pools of celestine mariano
brocaded whimsy
pouring through my shifting sockets!

good image dear!
I'd like to paint a still life
of squirrel skeletons covered in green fuzz 
building a golem
of peyote buttons...


MODERN ART
IS
A CANNISTER!


sometimes disguising your voice
is enough to garner a new audience.. 


sometimes
you have to chew off your own tongue


or smoke
a loon's foot
of pate' ala delphi


burning your shoes
might help


but only if your final feat
is 'true'


you can have your cake
inside a revolution too



but remember 
giving birth while dancing


can set off
military actions


molecules
are
'funny friends'


nor impid form
in a glory..

funny how the peaceful palms
are gobbling up the east.

Is grail
a newspaper
or masturbation
veiled in green doves?

imagine a microphone
is a military.