Friday, February 28, 2014

Ruined green cathedrals, bathing beauties, and sea-going sculpture, all disconverge on scruple-tongue.

steak sweet
potato wellness formula
kleenex soup kombucha
in strabusiness
I found myself
a mustache curler
demos to demos
for our cave-wry'd wigging

a crock o'dilator
to confound
the narrowing

chest case
basket case
in rough carpets
the sliding remains
faux-vision fades
its colors moving brighter

I have bring-ed mother
she prefers the live icon
to television

a crude waiting it seems would cruel
the harness of good huihuizenga
a great fellow
donating honorable zings
to the high hound
the speaking shadows
the fleece warrens
crackling with electric
wheezing hoods
shrouded pillars
and spin

to think, it all started with herm
"tripping mews"

Diogenes first conceived of the lantern
in the dream of a satiate horse
this plume will be my goose-egg
he cried
for my twin erection lies
at the crux of strabismus
and schitzopodality
"I am the way beyond the crab-people.."

and so then
the sea witch put her neck
in the heavy jet black torque
her neck claws
accessing controls
pulling up view screens
rows and rows of digital
flip-top cauldrons
bubble bubble toil and double

my wound must breathe in thicket

where punctum arcs a shadow
only resonyms will tame
what wormius knew
was only tithes
to water
in magesty

I may not block the illegible curse
but its glue will purple
as a sheet
never touching my sacred brow
the tail of the world
is a dancing spew

this beard of pipes
can never remain
purely a spectacle

The camera is not your fault,
nor your earthquake

I can see I'm going to have a lot of work today
inside the creased piano ledger

(what he is really saying is):
young women on the banks of the seine
about to be attacked by a light saber

Romanticism's new digs
may only be entered through a star-shaped mirror
you know you have won
if you are wearing custom

I refuse to eat "smoke turtle" with you!

5000 more ping pong tables please
and include the REQUISITE 
spoon paddles
and napkin scorecards

I picked a bad place
to become a living icon

glass nipples
are the most beautiful
and chickens are alaways trapped unside
it perfumes

Celadon, you are awakening
to Celadon.

this final hyphen will allows us
to scale the walls of reason
and reach the infinitely closed

When I mimic a blood waterfall
your image mimics
a trembling

as an erotic nun
I entered the republican party
declaring justice for plebs
and hot lice
for hit parade head sores

works for modernism
but will openly reveal
its primitivist tendencies
under close scrupulotion

fig lute
sweetly beckons
to groves
of green tapestrions


meat chess
as developed
by picnic ted

and to think
duchamp was the man beside you

i feel lazy 
in all the former

Duchamp appears on the ancient tokens
as the yogic lord
or tamer of beasts

as an architect
I worked with birds
to aid in the design
of my sea-going

what is it for

If you will just put the napkin in your mouth
your head may work a bit better

I get along with the idea of painting.

and sometimes
a nose-flute
will surprise you...

The Case of the Garrulous Gambler

like a kung fu

snatch the tiny shoe
from my hand
dennis hopper

snatch the heavy
stone shoe
from my head
green grasshopper

the heavy bean shoe hand
dennis grass menace
hopper, edward

the stone grasshopper
with tiny hand
kung fu

bee hatch
hod beach
the tiny raisin
from my forehead

the rainbowl snatch
meine kleine
baby shoe kindergryllus
bean head
dennis hopper

blue velvet jellybean

kung fu me
heavy stone
grasshopper shoe
your bee-snatched raisin
like a fang in the night
like a spirit camel

weaving the guardian owls
out of plenti-putti

the storage
and retrieval
Dionysus the menacing

do not snatch the bean
but hold gaze
watch the thin clean gland blade bold
it watches you
from inside
its pale gelatin shoe

and turn
to the grassy delirious hips
your wild scarred forearms
your symphonic webarrays

make lightning
from your scars

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

The Word 'Monstre' Appears 11 times in the Collected Works of Chaucer.

the beatitudes of copying
also project
a thin black skeleton key tree shadow 
whose indexical phallynx
summons no simple irony
but a multitude 
for the gnarstyx'd pluromatongue
is a hordespace
and though we contemplate it lovingly
and lilt ourselves languidly in streams of soft petallings
the burning solar rose is hung in a black iron coppice
whose hacking litany of vortle
chuffs no only glad roundurance 

as Nachtschitzeus said
Be Fortful
and multiply the framings

and found a bliss, a bliss-surd of ceremonial doorways
down and back into the throes
of lost plazas
of mythical reading

a scrim before the hot machinery of love
to harvest the genius
of its radiant
and white hot stamen
fate's chthonic punetym
become all consumthing
uniformlessly bewildering

the open sky
leavened by graven
whose masque
is the greening
pense bête

for though I walk
through the valley of antennae

I shall fear no telephone
and hair no diatribe

my Pan
and my snake
do confront me
and my scrybus fang
will haunt
the paper of the whordethicket

my hard black ebony eyes
rolling freely
loosed from a punctual heading

and all things shall be brought together
a soft bodice
cupped in a black lightning
of wild cold magma
in song
an heroic pinprick
sanguid round 
a blind koine

O Knossos!

When frail Garamanteans
arrived in tunnels

your Minotaur has so declared:
all totality springs from supplementarity,
all grace confined

lo, my calembour
is a drawing,
a sucking at the fount
of your wound,
my displacement

the 'one that stands by you'
is a camouflage
for empty shelves,
a poim of Stella
of apple vey

consider the statutes of the feel

do they not sleep as stones
in the bowels of buddha's foot

does not a cold nimbus of dreaming coinages
awaken all combination

to mutilate the dance

let mother heal
her token's 

for the where the lamprey

the hand must hold
a cup

whose haecceity
deus hex
wills adam
a descent in turns
to even
the plug
or the scrim
or the feel

4014, 4414, 4404, Rue Eggsilly

there is a weirdly homogenous substance, baby
there is a weirdly homogenous substance, sugar

None of my models can correct or guess!

In the long winter
my own stupefying nudity
has become your clothing,
now will you play
Handel's Sarabande
again, my dear,
and this time,
with a little more

no sense
in chattering wrongly
when it takes away
no one's rights

The subject much loin to recognize
that his unconscious is his history,
a golden eleven-vater monster,
bugs bunny teeth

but Oedipedagogy
needs my

and so ends the treatise

leaving each moment
in its own all deforming
and performative
the subject as the quill
of the objective

the triple muse
as ascendant

as writ mine auctour called Lollius