As The Ordinary Must Wait Its Genuine

Vexual
Sexual
Actual
Axial
Lichtaxium

muse@chill

Carbon Hydrogen
Isle

El Si
Chao-koo

apologia
apologos

apogee of longing

licorice
energy seer
receive your green
and absent tenesbrow

O sere and risible
Virigible

golden giblets
interfuse
the amber ruselets
in your hanging garden

skeleton bubbles
whose inner surfaces
are dusted in sweet recourse

what but resource
can buy an arlpuregia?
a partitioning
of Pu and Ce

Coupons of Monofrax K-3 glass
contact refractory non-male
non-female
human
nonwere

exposed to melts ....
using NaOH followed
by aqua regia
apologia
agony all loping
all open to the agon
and agora

Ours is gone,
why am i in fear?

because my hand
is twisted to confusion's
hiss

Ours is ogric, or
why am i undear?

because the speaking flame
warts the wishing

Lo, a thing as proud
as a loud door
goes unmarked
to Bethlehem

Beetle hymn
or battle hum

The Axe head
grants
sublime confection

star sky
and hutch
must avade
the huggy

many dear lands
are waiting the sunrise

how good
how fine

Order Online!

Heavy Lead Skull Epaulets
Gush such eaxophontic

roo-roo's

Tea Hiss
Helliot

Black Pollen Volcano Deer

if the rake is
a fang, then
let it be black

fits any
for all

or pinpoint the mute
malamara amorous
soured

deer rose

if a fanged rose
if dear
then hear this
hollow flute fang

black or obsidian
language

hear this deaf volcano
fanged in roses

dearly pre-loved
when fangs are dipped
in rosewater

when solid black eyeballs
hide in the heads of deer
and dearly beloved roses

crowns of roses
hover over dear dead volcanoes

the young dead deer
are queer as roses
and never appear

like volcanoes
with their black eyes shining
never more near

sharp black obsidian ears
like fearless fangs
are swollen

Uncommon Bestiary

I thought this was an interesting article.

Come Hither, O My Unsweetened Latte' Nipple-Phone

an amoebic cellphone nipple decoder latte'
hides inside a cardboard skull stage microphone
broadcasting fitness strophes of sememe-a-tary
blues:

O mercurial amoeba-neural thought pattern trigger matrix,
which and what motherfucking ought have you bought
on the way to the wide-mouthed cat-fish hogon fitness center?

Which ought have you taught
with your telescopic latte'
nipple snake phonics?

Super biggie size
jumbo womba psycho-
psycho-pomp cock-plump
nipple ripple Dr. Doolittle
ourobourous porous coffee-sponge
head, what

dit dot
is you what
to the glot
in the pot
on the sot?

Is it so hot?
Or is the fatty
a hotty on the body?

Is the body shoddy
or sleepy in the snatch?

What thatched soft patch
nico-teen crotch
is the waveless wavuleem,
bee-otch?

Holy grumpinitis!
Cellphones ascend into
submay worminoles...

We sleep
in consciousness,
and our skittering
brain-nipple wannabeam sentient
airhole amoebidoxicaloric
funtasy
is fluming so ever wildy

hither..

how-to-smoke-danny-bonaduce

Found this on Lemonhound.. Seemed kinda trippy..

a braille of ashes enters its filet of filter cheek horns

cold close
coulomb your
black tone
refracted
steadily molar
rally tongues relax
inside the
spectator heads clear
discs of
colored worms or
rally officials
seem stringy &
defrosted

we pass into their
bodies our rotator cuffs
luminous beneathe
the layers of skin
and spectators

elastic windshield heads
are jettisoned
cubits of magma vacuum
enact a waveguide's
brujo (butter lampreys carved into hovering gates
resplendent with agates and grates)

my nerves
are in grapes
the rally officials
are geysers of plastic birdbones
dressed in their crisp
stentorian names

and up above
the fates are weird and vicious
precise and tender

light like foam and putti
on
moon-panted radar puppetry

their loom maws and telescoping bobbin teeth
like elastic typewriters whose keys are shot-glasses of
turbulent nipple mantas, stainless steel gazelle gondolas
their momentary rows of flashing dynamic appendages

nunc
pause
nunc

noon-chaku

seem as quaint and pale
and
grey
like a head and shoulders
balloon clinic strap-on

Jack Palance's head hovering
as the Caesar of Dakar

girl motorcycle leathers
puffed up
with jellybean look-alike
memory styx

Weird Neon Mark Twain in Silver Suit

tools pulled out of the whitewater,
skeery leerkinhorns with bassable
jade teeth nonce words invaginating
toward some evalescent pucker called
a kivet, or a quoth

hard latin pelts skittering into place
to tesselate the lateness of its all
sooooo
ooohhh
yes, why is them semeplexity triveale

spatially
a paradox

a tininess that is itself "shrinking"
the rind of a rationality
built like a still

and still made partly of interconnecting
vaults

and oohhh yess, stillness
covering all

individual lamb's hairs carved of carnelian

meat red lamb's hairs
used to communicate with shrewish
and implaqueable "toasters"

Hear's to old what's his toe, and what's her korn
here's to the megalocephalic leviathan of crooked-crutching
wig-beating paddle-wheels

blonde-afro-paddle-wheelies
drive the bong-amoebna-spy-cart-religionism

you can imagine a kind of smooth slate burm
on which skateboarders with wheels of colored chalk
do eloquent berts, and bonelesses

you can imagine Hermes "itself"
as an amoeba of mercury
presenting everyonce inawhile
a cinnabarrial skull architecture
with spirits of steam languoring
in balconies of golden helixes
weird abstract xylophones
ejecting gaseous pennies

'thanks Pal'
says Mr. Jericho

I hear the flunky dishwasher running
I put lipgloss on the pervert teddybear

The Darling Paragon of Human Idiocy

(How Unfairly You're Acting)...


I supposed it
not very Radley or Thom
to meet its
interminable
grrr head~
on..

if you give it
shapeshifting in the middle knight
middle sex
or middle ~of~

poor Venir, he chose to chew parfait
in the center of the commune
on the terrace of the mote
upon the verdant death
rebounding through the pee
all along the paragon~ para-agon

to the adulation of beasts
humane with salutes of value

This poem is such a little Radley
in its girl school of whispers
in its old Oliver Reed beds
of D.H. Lawrence of Arabia

Just look at Ponge's gymnaste, just
look at 9000 BTUs
'drowning in fire'

/THE BLACK SCHMOO-BUNNY/ says:

good-bye
non-flammable
cleaning
duster

Some Fine Reviews From Jeff Harrison.

Mr. Jeff Harrison has written some wonderfully odd poem / reviews of Séamas Cain and my own [uh] works, so, well to be true, ...

Here they are on Galatea Resurrection:

Nosering Cellphone

Incongruities

Butt Money. And Mutant.

manure is waning off the people's bridge,
Jimmy Durante elf mold tells me signs
in breech-cloth capillaries are ready
for stone wall between us

Stonewall Jackson.

Stoning Michael Jackson
whose veil
is a breechcloth

We walk tenderly together along the bridge,
some lumps of electricity in my skull
are making me feel

feel up, pat down,
a nazi clown official

an Ayatollah of old olives
and weasles

I'm trying to make all this feel okay
but money will have to do that..

red praying mantis
is Dudley atop the coprolite

private coffee cup
nations

Ernest Borgnine
in Sanka-colored
daffodils

No Question Marks Its Path

for Manuel Montvale, whose punyishment
is just...


fanfarlo world trade
cinder

snow globe houses
any monster 11 theorrery

beatnik teen boy
old itchy scrod-tech now

lovely is
and mondernity w.a.s.

dammit, what dared
to walk along dancing

culture, shh, cult-lure
over-awaing bodies

parrot whimpering
roaring

the lion headed parrot

the winter-headed oscill

what wave is not young

what youth
is not classical

what modern thing
is drawn across the maw

ah, but your character
is fine, truly..

"hung far low, phanero..."

Peri Coma, Massif of Delta

[Encounter with enormous jewelled headwound
fringed in goose-head snakes]:

a Terrasippi fire-cream
w/ doors open
comes across goatman bridge
for
ants in labor humm
wallachia child slaves

muddy chandiliers walking crooked
through its chaste and heaving
junkies

lungfish a fine stewfendus
big intestine quilts
promote a picnic tranquil starfish
of blind and burning battering rams

some lonely hippie dude
turns into wood
or just says

delta
you are absolute
mindfuck

Big Jazz (Too Slow Buddy..)

an onion is brewing
in some gangsters

i tell my wife
on the cellphone
that there is a red orchid
under her bed

she tells me
that there is a tiny
Christopher Lee
guarding it

i take an impossible test
in my dream
on the difference of
rope and string

part of the test
is under glass
and appears to have been made
by Leopold Blaschka

it is something like a gun
or a hand made of flowers

so many paradoxes
are involved
in the weaponization
of anti-weaponization

I keep thinking
of the little sheriff
who sleeps

deep in the red orchid:

"epi-phytus, you'll give me a cochlea.."

Mr. Johnson
Mr. Johnson
Mr. Johnson

Hot Blonde Brazilian Bank Teller Amoeba

I am here again..

Amoeba breaking wind,
non-upgraded, fixed lumbar bmw seat
hole filled with black plug
[wink]

I am Amoeba
hear me roar.

I could paint a really cool picture
anytime I am in Starbucks shopping.
Like, I am having this fantasy about a
Brazilian bank-teller

she's a bank teller

blonde amoeba

tube-top

I'm cashing checks
and she sounds like
some 70's comedian
talking about her pussy

I'm all

"lens-cap"
"hyper-procedure"
"matter-ghetto-utopia"

She's all

"pussy-mafia"
"I saw your BMW.."
"Tube-Top"

and that is when the

Shiva-Turkey-Molecule example
burns through the post-man's eyelids

It's like the postman
who always rings twice
has returned to Starbucks

in his mermaid-mobile

Where I am still sitting there
with the Advil crowd

trying to paint this picture
on a bulldozer scoop in the parking lot

a painting of this obscure
French poet of the 17th century
not Ronsard

this poet who hangs out by the fire
spitting

In America
people don't like the French
nor being told
that humans are like

Amoebas with internal crutch-assemblages

They are already all like

"my manatee"
"super quantum"
"spin brigades are doubling"

and then I am just so
like into Starbucks,
my Wives of Merry Windsor knots,
these memories of woodchucks

It's a huge hangover I get
from being wet inside
like a bank teller

I'm all, like I say something inane like
"He's a professor.."
when she shows me her

comedic principle..

My Boring Aristocratic Meanders, Closed Variables

As if its moose nose were cumming
bolts of schissom

jade schissom is the emperor's
markury

look at this potlatch folding baord-game assembly,
if you remove the tripod carefully, flexing the legs
from the holes atop the crucible, you'll see its

muse notes
haplear

Why I take you this route
is entirely your business.

shapeless windshield
routeless vestige of the greater vehicle

filter encased in filter
philtre a good simple segma

belly half transparent
theatre half empty

we hold our robot opera fission
to the edge of the temple
where the throbbing vane ponticiple

sups such single secular looseny

we get out into the ball
to rub our faces
onto the exposed tits
of the wilder countenancings

Lottery Trysts

A funyon
is the canyon of alleys
or the labyrinthine
swimming pool where the jesters
wank their eely binoculars
to clones

or lonely horses

A funyon
goes limp
in a swimming pool
whose nakedness is written
in letters

I am reading the newspapers again
and the plot lines seem so fraudian
but I now know something more

beautiful is at wroc!

Sin bad, o saler of the syn glee seed,

I seed wad I seed
and I said what I sad

sit there 'prithy thee'

a hot white nodule
discloses
its tempast

Plot Tweists

the cow expert, was she in love?
the chao hex spurt, washing in love...

I see a vision of the long trains

bush spurt
tob skod

Feelings are a strong suit.

When in the winter, wine terse tears will swell,
the book is love, but here there is no ego, no grasp,
no memory in most of the stones
but you were well lost too.

apharmakont kunst no writer's wiles,
and a perfect kissing hegemony lives high
ablove the eland

hard hands of mad sand
say something in song

something so sere and proud
even a sun is sand

even a burning hand
cannot penetrate such simple stone doors

albino vagino rhino

Flexing My Stomach Muscles

wade for logger, or war for baal,
laboratory taries in the mouth, making
old rollercoaster seascape

grode inta towne

newe white charity
the phone number

in a lady's hands a holy voice is stupid,
you were right as usual, and lame as rain,
to wear its head in, I can't talk about it

not unhappy
flows wild through the cork
where tall turbanned bannisert
pips out of hotch

long white rabbit's head
is giving black teeth boxes into
an untransforming glitter

Egyptian alien glitter beings
are unloading their parasols
into the frenched up goemetry
(arbrélectromagnétique)
of the thwong

an ivory daughter
comes in a boat

an ivory thinking machine
is tended by these glass headed
zipper snakes