Yes eyes slush around a little bit I’m not asking for this level of engagement try a poetry of desire of mustfulness of Michael Bay coined to the lids of every solution I ever had for the world was fuck it or spend more money I have to get there first or I’m as good as a silly centipede in that event would you lurch toward or away from her I didn’t have a good answer and this time my brain is winning my grip is weak.
Acid bark of petroleum too waste imagine never overhanging the city snake colossal hiss kisses armed icon retching sky too on feasting dawn i at the heart regret ever in this sour game the chaplain’s ten point star strewn too scenes too entertain too stretch too reflex too glacier too gamble too gone tossed too faithful.
Abnegate sunrise slaughters endless new grief fear finally finally self reclaimed from the scree come back and synchronize it is a new day inside a new day inside.
Which was tantamount to actuation which was overwhelmed by the weight of the black wall’s shadow which was an aged yellow tag on a cheap bag of pencil mustaches which was ellen burstyn and john mcaffee sweetly singing into still black coffee in the early nineties which was unable to stop laughing which was beauty which was age which was never to be sound engineered which was five hundred glossy promo shots for the knives to work up which was both of which were found at critical mass which was eschewing the holidays for speaking archaic about national subjects which frankly bj leiderman composed our theme within one hundred cherry red yards which was permanently what they asked me to tell the coroner the psychologist the commissioner which was as if john waters fronted suicidal tendencies.
Grenzsituation genuflection the crisis in berlin looks cool as hell get ahead of yourself these are my conditions a density of stimuli providing vehicles through time astounds the professor though people come and grow in a room full of michaelangelos as the tail begins its lion’s taming steps in on or what if it’s just the lyrics to staying alive right down the middle cleaved and all you’d have to worry about is disgruntled voice actors dear ovid and the jews will you please identify streaking grey across the hunter’s chest i picked up my phone to google vatic and five years had passed straw man torrents curious so i ate a klaxon paucity of gilt her treachery was too easy o reflecting goblet parabolic defibrillator of self blind in meteors swarming the storm of cosmic traffic no thundercat holding the bag deep in the hole of nemik’s manifesto of the late late spoils.
My other remix oh holy tessera to proclivities in decline like ever fluttering hearts who demand favors of long elbowed sanctuary as if anything were permanent but presumptuous dances and idiots who have plucked vertical suspenders from the eerie sandstorm suspending something echoing riots around ten oh seven pee em swims the first three epochs into perfect capsules of now parietal unscrewing suddenly the feeling mutual mutual suddenly unscrews feeling into perfection episodes swim ten echo something sandstorms each rubbing a timid bank of idiots dancing permanently on the scorched elbows of the tenements who heart ever fluttering proclivities do lean into adventures oh mix and oh my.
Sell three copies they convince you you’re winning mother father baby bird they who in the corner sit with mountains to suture a couple thousand dollars high and under the worst company that ever went public bends meanwhile to its will who down at the volcano beg for fruited jobs devoid of humanity they who dispose of the chemical haze brave marble queuing for another opportunity of a terracotta lifetime real heroes jacking open my open eyelids like who were you able to convince an autobiographical pharmacy never closes the unpredictable patron saint of updraft laureate isabel allende of antediluvian cemeteries what’s clever is wasted yellow sky yellow leaves square and broken yellow birds rearranging the gossamer daylight stuck in my head for 25 years for a small edible triangle of scaffolding around one’s river thorough disposable yellow concrete swelling to meet the yellow crucifixion who yellow the house yellow audi yellow cardinal perch atop the dizzy birch of free markets.
the tide dropped out while still enrolled puta in the sun scared moon certainly not the heroes darkly begging at the shore’s feet taking advantage the only thing at which they’ve excelled no other way to get it done their shoulder / your shoulder their back / your back the chorus unable to prove anything anymore distracted by distraction comparing work to worry reaction to action syrup to syntax the anti-war movement of the ’60s and ’70s sabotaged the culture their heroes heathens lords of dew acknowledge the abusive sutra turned themselves out there’s hero shit in the street and no one picks it up which is to say everyone refuses to pick it up who precisely is this no one and are you looking for agency representation?
i don’t want to hate read your big bang which is to say i desire to sniff your every sip of coke carry you closer to the end of beer of coffee of water i am formally interesting of but bereft baked into obsolescence the right hand no poems about rain when i drive the scents enter and exit like coffee shop customers once a virgin always a virgin no leatherback sea turtle devouring a jellyfish have a strange obsession strangely unobsessed i was a bad translator and a hell of a stylist trapped in colin powell’s test tube not being dramatic when i say the light dims vibrating elements start a tv network arch of river-wet stones above creek in vermont if you don’t know the noun its sentence is alien and uber modernity says don’t slow america morphs individual identity to bludgeon america grafts vision to formula warmachine america was nowhere america had nowhere
one in three questions is serious two are small hands grasping in the wet-dark for salinized water
hewn stone or a mustache arriving at customs before a tour of the great pyramids of vegas
i am obsessed through collage but that’s behind him now
a flashlight / in a closet / at the bottom / of the aegean sea
You’re a nag. You’re a liar. You’re lazy. You’re selfish. You’re deluded. Stop wasting my time.
he is a craftsman with beautiful rough hands full of calluses like truth with crete between his team has prepared marketing collateral and sand fires for every possible occasion
If you don’t like it, you can leave.
in fact i think you should go freshly shaven chest like a great royal crest give the world what it so depressingly craves space
in its arms this generation bears time or place drowning my hands around its neck long and slender surrender
Everyone agrees with me.
trees sorting themselves below birds
You should be ashamed of yourself.
great figures inconceivable if not for sky
I don’t need you, you need me.
nothing neat left in this moved-on world
After all I have done for you, this is the thanks I get?