Saturday, October 10, 2015

going with wrong, wronging with thing

brined thing hands stacked two tone prettily
up through the curling clear
ringlet cable hose dear
woodpecker's shrine hat ploughing the partifoam
into stadium seating on either side
of the well won rut
carnivorous rugae of gravity ripple will plouche the strange
so let our twanging gourd hunchback guitars hide the goose

'til the maiden's soft naked feet come washing
before the moonlight yellow emb dee what er
angel languages kill
a bright scree of piercing tones
and space as taut as a puppy belly
no letter without a razzo
no pupa without an oculuta-ta

black and licorice hands
plough the made
while her hongry batten wide eye
shape the cow
more tree perverse
the rabbit insect inset with image gem
the pink and globular coave'
accumulating radiolarian eye socket coral

one proud hand called gall wolf
sniffs at the top of a festering blue gem socket
its guts snake through a hole
and become all dee underground
like a cut crystal diorama of clearer thoughts
thoughts which speak to real people
in real times
to which they have no reply
for their despair
looks to be grown in paper cones

orange hands
are quickly massaged
and quickly relaced
down in the long thing