Thursday, April 30, 2015


oh but I would like to rub your face in it
into the deep lush foam of the clover toroids
clever and lucky as a ladder we climb
these zeros are now (noo) and preeminent figures
saturn eats its hat
which is a toroid
which comes before terroroid
in the last phase of shadow
that the hissing Plato wound creams

is rolling in it
and where the stank of its eh
would woo the om of its hankering
a cooing canker blooms
blowing green dandelion clover
all over the inside
of the toroidal room
whose portal is a zero poem
for behind the golden door
is a smaller green door
then a smaller yellow door
and so on
until the wall
is all waves
until James
is the sememe of fishing hook
and Joyce
the easy forking of the sun
a Y shaped sun
which weaves a bread like this:

tornātus tornāta tornātum tornātī tornātae             tornāta
tornātī tornātōrum tornātārum tornātōrum tornātī tornātae
tornātō tornātae tornātō tornātīs tornātīs tornātīs
tornātum tornātam tornātum tornātōs tornātās tornāta
tornātō tornātā tornātō tornātīs tornātīs tornātīs
tornāte tornāta tornātum tornātī tornātae tornāta

now you have a clover fuss, and a tomato tornado
heading for the heady stage
the oniversullenschlumpfenproletoroidalariat

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Irrony Observes The Earthing.