Friday, January 6, 2017


het in wiln piln
vine intaglio
water bold against the grump
warded by sea green foxes
these silver shoes
are sealed up
with ghosts

first sphere cavity
if any measurement is a mile across
and the smooth singular spherical wall
is a mile thick
if any measurement were a mile thick
wiln piln nod and blinker

no grump
in the green water foxes
the vascular collapse
is drawn to a pixie's
ornate breathless
gorgon daidala
in fairy dumps

the second sphere cavity
is no longer an angel morgue
they have retreated into words
long orange charlatan tables
emblem the cavern floor
and the eaters
groan bewildered at the repast
they themselves have prepared

and no fairy tale
could be more transparent
oh these ivory husks
we radiate dancing
our names are woven
liffer rillipilli gillnet goatmeth voxpug lort

groan and grunt
and the third sphere
is its tiny head
hovering near the digital punchbowl
aloof in galaxies
and reindeer

a spherical candle burning
at the nadir of the stalactite

what serious elf
could weld these bodies
into a glyph
for wild dawn

spear chorsu trubite
more spheres
that roll down from the mountain
and the last balloon
or hovering spherical city
the last city


which hovers over
a landless sea

where the blur of blind kingdoms
once cussed