Saturday, June 7, 2014

Post Pre-Mortem (one morning in Corinth)

i give up
was it sits eyes that passed through you
mi mi mi mi mi no no no

you'd think everyone would see the cosmic brain
whose hairs
which split ends at ends of
everybody dangles on

the inhumans
were awarded a unimind
i give up
but ask yourself was it I or me
which passed through thee

say that I am capable of juggling 
mirrored letters in a line of fights
each fight held under a parasol
in a clear glass box
except one box is solid stone


two periods clear
one period solid black

like the possessed eye
of the first demon that approached Saint Anthony
in its little batwing and tortuga brimstone Conestoga

even demonic howls
are pipsqueak lettuce
to a supergargantuan blackhole
whose direct force of personality
rips the time right out of space

you hate my face?
you live in hate
hate so silent in its serene incomparable bliss
and the goodness here
is something

a transparent period
balanced carelessly
at the tip of some drunk's elbow at a party

pack up your hand puppets
and sit quietly
in the empty room

all the seedlings
are yearning
for the morning's first holy vowel

I snap out my beach towel
with its icon of the sun
its text writhing and boiling over sands unknown
a joke motto

the howly growl

a search for the howly growl
Diogenes brand sun tangent lotion
your pie-bald eyes
baking cakes of cotton