Friday, August 8, 2014

castanets! castanets!

In the red origin
of this hotel
thoughts rise like white pillows
thoughts rise like green pillows
and people slide like abacus beads
with neon entering their mouth
and exiting
their head-spinning apropunctifease

betting for sacred glamour
the hairball skulls
corralled their themes
to moue a bete noire
for a boundary of fetish heads

goldfish your masks
my double coined cock sticks
water drips
right in your bed

Yes, it's the second coming, it's aliens for sure, but I was the only blind man taken aboard at all,
and all the other passengers seem to be anorgasmic women
tortured by african islamic cults.. What? They've landed in Poughkeepsie and are herding little boys by riding giant Pekingese. Well, don't you worry. Oh no, it's great Marlene, after an incredible spa, you watch films during the trip. The first film was some kind of run-on filmic sentence which started out like À rebours but then turned into Là-bas... 

Hyperbole! de ma mémoire
Triomphalement ne sais-tu
Te lever, aujourd'hui grimoire
Dans un livre de fer vêtu...

We feel that they may be travelling to this exquisite and heavy iron chalet which mollies its drolleries in the languid goop of Saturn's dung rings.

The Alien punctum is at hand.
One small dot of infinite asymmetry
will put your ass
right back in a tree.
lovers gobbling baby monkeys
at a feast of floral letters.

i cook
i cuckoo
but still the mink keys fangle
the scrubbed coo silk cup pillow
'thoughts rising like pillows'
that was glamorous theme
of our oaken cousins
wu wei
we wuz
fuzzy wuzzy
was never supposed to become
a piano of monkey ladders.

confabulum is boundless confection
affection is full
and the gyres approach them

what a cryptic lover needs is readers
that will knot cock up the tripod
for if the whole world is a tripod

in the cock up and crash
i found solace alone
in my wandering nymphaeum

i will live as a turkey
from the renaissance
to the age of reason

I am Thomas Hardy
and Matthew Barney
made into a vagina din tatar

Don't forget my frightening old mask!

At the bottom of the fountain, mice use the tiny coins like ice skates
to rejoin their prostitutes
after the long war
with the "poisonous French novel"
that controlled all my paintings.

is the poetry of Baron Von Richthofen?

These Eons
of Sopp Whipth Camel..

I say old rat, caught in a bit of a batt,
pillows rising to heaven
seems to have touched off a grey alien goo event
in my hotel jim neighbor's hood.
Could you sparsely glamour a protectorite
and send it along the pike.

I did not import these giant Pekingese to Poughkeepsie, nor did I sell them to the decadent grey merchants which always pay my bail.

Dorian Grey,
you were such a lovely boy,
standing naked above me
in your anubis mask,
urinating on my forehead,
But what have you become?

I brought the aliens here.
I am Napoleon Anubis,
bringing Spa at least
to victims of anorgasmia.

How can they defend me.
I am Joris Karl.
I am pillow rising to heaven.

is the new black.

now the invisible man
as a clunky robot version
of marlon brando's wild one
would mount his favorite salamander skeleton
and descend again into the alchemical fire
to retrieve its burden

Fuck Giacometti..
We've been wandering out here for Hours.
Let's go back to the Dorian's spa..

Lady, Orpheus was not a huge "Christmas Ogre" tying children to balloons..
pillows rising to heaven?
Orpheus went straight to hell,
and there laid jams.

do you think I'm still full of peanut butter?

I see a crowded street,
and all the people
are wearing buckskins.

Is that you

How'd ya like to kill everything,
and then pretend ya didnt?

The glamour of gambling
will take your hair skulls far
my bumbling boundaries.

I remember Marcel once told me,
The gyre will make an inverted child of ice,
an ice cone rising to heaven...

I'll be the aliens this time,
and you can be all the anorgasmic women,
but we still have to get to Dorian's on time
to watch the poker tournament..

there's a hole in the book
where I can see the theater
has failed before the open window.
is severed legs.

would you like to visit us in our dreams?

Did you buy us a mini-vacuum?!

in the great castle of my face lantern
smooth seals hover upright like flames
and cold golden eyeballs roll about
like prisoners
lolling their drumbeat days
rabbits on the tundra
signal through transparent leaves

yes, I'm watching it too.
Tom Sawyer's Horns of Consecration
painted by a picket fence
her pregnant again
with Huckleberry Finnegan
the final old ancient black dodger.
he's one smooth booger
trimming paint brush hair
with scissors.

the hunchbacks's telephone
is called big-head-nude
seated on hand-carved tree stump.
would you like something from
Stuckey's next door, little boy Anubis,
we're all niced tea.

each fork
of his tongue
get its own

owl slipper