Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Brief Night Storm's Morn (White Dart High Up)

A foolish accumulush mush of days gone past;
mint and tarragon meant lickerish vast bone,
or terra's agon, the inner geometries terragonal,
as if the functional asymmetric of bold wart stall
arth, or wereworth, were anything but a mobius
rubberband stretched to the limits of believability
an old-style prosthetic hook-hand's gracile saving
clamp, light sees such graspables within the murk
all brilliantine in once and uncess, inkomparable,
that whole great bulge, the snake in the meantime
of the swallowed egg, mu, sun parable to whether,
or garden's synthful booty in night rains, the nocturnal
thrash yielding but good morning, and a few extra
dew fleets flanking the ratty headed bamboo bunchies,
for here comes the klank of the alleymen, our coral
saunter of stasis attended, and moreover the whole
of the dendritic map a tingling of diacritical bubbles,
orgone tidepull awash, and where the diagram invades,
escapes to ether ore, the golden empty returning, its
rebuttal, nonesuch over this pause, as aeroflot rummys
the sky, the planar reduce seducing, the leaves of languor
a regalia, all tensility the mirror of the vascular marble,
a gentle intensity pervades, the crane dancing lightly
through the tongue's portal'd compartments.

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