Tag: death

Callejón de Nubes

Joseph M. GeraceLeave a comment

No thinking about the holes in teeth confused in cloud alley but elegant not selling elegance but true put the phone down elegance you ballet of proper verb forms then say ballet until her enjambment snaps off in her right hand the regional manager says put identity up there on the shelf beside the open box returns she’s talking about mycelium now or was a violent idiot a little tape holding it all together don’t take the comma deep underground take the coma of metaphor hey you guys look like you respect ska and city police neat and disorderly no one trying to reproduce scan or distribute any printed or electronic form of outre elder smoke returns through heavy mirrored interior of toilet paper tube violent design wins every time.

She of the Rumpled Pea Coat

Joseph M. GeraceLeave a comment

N.M.

Hears rudy boray statistic over the buzzy bee loves those within earshot encourages the dog to snip forever swing the hammer steal your melancholic library refuse manipulation be manipulated blacken the iron gates speaking at universities and private corporate events jam four little trees black ice air fresheners into the maxima’s ac vents the dog campaigns with distressed exposition perfect blocking and michael bay explosions admitting each other into the hall of greatness pisses on the y button sprays flat crystals across the front row and loses essence the sad pathetic mystery of life that’s what’s so great about it so much is failure as they say all telescope no planets as they say generous images jump from the first floor window hold their breath disembowel narrative intent with living happily ever after eat my marshmallow now or later neither of us will cough again eats ashtrays to reimburse the moon eats ashtrays.

Vincent D’Onofrio

Joseph M. GeraceLeave a comment

Dear Memory Erasing Itself,

You can see me, right?

Between the war on hokum and your neon grip silhouette, tall pink shadows collate humane gels.

Consistency is the universe.

Consistency is the universe, though I will not eat marmalade.

We’re a generation of men raised by women from which mold has been removed. Is another woman the answer we need from the surface?

While my batting average is extraordinary please ask yourself, after this war on hokum does your story need goblins? What does your company really stand for? Sconfitto, but figuring that out is essential—here’s how.

The large hands of Maurice Blanchot are here with us sketching in neon: The struggler against paper walls. History’s best alternative clawing at imaginary walls. Desire to eat own tail again. Consistency is the universe of short live streams from the toilet, and I’m a stone-cold snob about it.

I notice my arm shaking arterial spray all over the imaginary walls.

Kurt Cobain died seven months before Guy Debord. A danse macabre daddy’s body in the other room ripped from the headlines.

Ripped from the headlines.

Best,
Joe

Yes Eyes Slush Around a Little

Joseph M. GeraceLeave a comment

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

Joseph M. GeraceLeave a comment

For Rocco

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.

Which Was Tantamount To Actuation Which

Joseph M. GeraceLeave a comment

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

Joseph M. GeraceLeave a comment

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.