John of Patmos, Kneeling

Wikipedia Poem, No. 623

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“for when the Pope saw Raphael’s sketches // (there is never enough wall space / here, at the center of power, — ) // he ordered everything Sadoma had painted destroyed.” Frank Bidart

“One thing there’s no getting by —
I’ve been a wicked girl,” said I;
“But if I can’t be sorry, why,
I might as well be glad!”
Edna St. Vincent Milay

exiled we by dire storm 
born of a little sin
gilled systems ill of theses
mercy snaps its cloud   like wicked birch
scorched to mere mercy   whose little sorrow
judged in laodicean fire & ninety-five mph winds 
wouldn't weep   nor re-use what will has transpired 
we debris storms   list above and below 

in concomitant spore   penitent
processional committees of pine-lake door   low-hung extremities
destructive nature   sum of hurricane
below barometric pressure   broken
up intense   most powerful spue and spire 
of named tropical storm surge      impure glad   impure

The 24 Hottest New Textures from #ParisFashionWeek

Wikipedia Poem, No. 614

obscene odes 
on windows of the skull
rural happiness of the book 
nature stealthily glowers orders 
a chinch from the middle of the night 
i do i do i watch the whole red attitude burst
a sunday centipeded under what you kids do up 
high from the bakery floor obsessed á votre santé
to becoming a book or divest a heaping fluted salary 
you must flaunt should flaunt & flip
hair texture even steal you a parisian tip 
you transom into the monolith (for thirty year wardrobes 
over your shoulder that or these t-shirt saleswomen 
parisian-end hole suddenly wallet possible
nevery morning since that order got me silked
sommen i know flaunt the wake up spilt
you slip next to slots time worn on your shore heart
like a sleeve   i'm here and talking to you reader 
salary red i do i do i don’t happen which is obsessed? 
i don’t have an attitude    sunday morning & you a sudden

Hungry Science Fiction Poem

Wikipedia Poem, No. 608

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“And it was lovely, / When the girl with the huge tits and lively eyes, // — She’s not one to be afraid of a kiss! — / Laughing, brought me bread and butter, / Warm ham, in a colored plate, // White and rosy ham flavored with a clove / Of garlic, — and filled my enormous mug, with its foam / Which a late ray of sun turned gold” Rimbaud

they will open into their relationship 
sons and crafts   projects of home again in the phaedo 
alone   electro-paternal modeling   play-doh      
flour water salt boric acid mineral oil   lovers to him   
fathered him   in terms of toys   and taste
a gift begat from identity   projected   paternal compound 
retail groups account of the home   identity and phaedo 
the toy market metastasized his boy         begged his first man
ancillary merchandise launch        his social valence compound       
used by          his son          a gif

 

Ivy, After Forgetting, Again

Wikipedia Poem, No. 606

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ONE
of thf 
    thene be 
doesagicaow, ihow w now, pen find turn  
one 
magicwordsmain, scale 
misout arave g 
     luc

TWO
ind 
make otyour r? 
      i e to made e 
          mises tuufficne touto-cecomee 
gra doesrds rr? 
i 
    f theper 
   …encie

THREE
uffic 
a gre becale 
    f 
findoes 
o one to 
hoaper 
estifturn 
     s oneking 
       the 
wed 
tefrom  
    off 
emainf walying

Violence / In modest tints arrayed / Within the silent shade

Wikipedia Poem, No. 602

“When I was a younger man / I could feel the entire world / But now that I’m older…” Busdriver

After Jane Taylor and Hoa Nguyen

verbal but not a lover who attunes illusion
nor is the lover a poem learning to walk on sand somatic stand-in
size and broadway that aggravates its homonym thinking about
him whether this lover meant moat or mote

slight quant of allusion is the specious condition of dollar
which aggravates you walking into the spinning fire
euclid measures across the lull of a dog and me steaming
a mouthful of rod starvations of posture impeccable

shorts tossed off like shirts like a healer‬-reader of wallace mic
eagle james american dream sketch paper corpse tree appears in the wild
a slight but specific plume men are taught that one wakes to his bodies
lined like a baking sheet matthew supermodel baraka my dollar

which aggravates that specious condition that attuned the dog outward
my dog ill and steaming a mouthful of patina-thought of whistle ‪men
taught at the front which aggravates the looming cross the tiki torch
now a dog steaming how to transform our shared conditional maw

After Reading a Page and a Half of Tradition and Innovation in Hellenistic Poetry

Wikipedia Poem, No. 600

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“He who arrives at the door of poetry without the madness of the muses, thinking that he can be a good poet thanks solely to techne remains incomplete, and the poetry is eclipsed by that of the mad.” Plato

the keyhole 
of my broad back 
of 
my ignorance were i 
          ignorant as all the philosophers
poured into a visible earthen mold    
be       invincibly 
ignorant for being 
          unreached but unreachable
this 
   condition is
the key then to 
         to verdant madness 
and made 
one less
the 
light the winged the
sacred thing of madness

i am stone

the 
    poem
is no more
no  
 i am so enamored
       no  
 i am 
so 
enamored
  no 
  i am so enamored
         no 
      i am so enamored
    no   
i am so enamored

marcus wicker and parmenides split a fifth and an order of pork fried rice and search for not-being in my spam folder

Wikipedia Poem, No. 593

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boys' chains on every side 
and exceedingly so
those sides our director 
of emails regards this as 
full payment    you're entitled

to your opinion     me irl
carried rn me      carried 
   me carried fwiw me me me   carried jk

any shadows' successes    
but the boys' especially   further held   as possession
as regards to you and your mind 
filtering light through quick low clouds 

    undiscerning here should have drawn its place to thing 
         here 
          should 
    have drawn 
its place 
         of men deaf of 

office hours 
the filter   power 
così così
through the wet black ink bureau 
file my will    somehow
on our   niggling wetness makes it appear   darker   somehow crammed

       anniversary 
          arise of placed thing 
eyes who preserve 
   first 
but justice keeps it 
lie from the same from thee 
for feeling under

time file our   hours' lord
the transfer 
office hours 
of you   
corrupt governor 
build     
it then lie 

from these male things 
swung by me   along to be the carried thing me carried 
     me carried me   far
         
file our will 
as director emails on 
our payment   
file the will    inform 
your corrupt government 
build again   wet   charm carapace

 

Daffy Duck and Don Draper Explore Post-Coital Dysphoria

Wikipedia Poem, No. 589

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“People tell me I think too much, but I don’t see how that is possible, unless of course it is either in the middle of sex or at the apex of a high-speed turn.” Melissa Holbrook Pierson

"Every animal is sad after coitus 
except the human female and the rooster."
   Galen of Pergamon

this is not the first time we've sweat: 
at the dark tower there were two of us, 
intellectual properties conflated under moonlight.

not     the author      the        author does not
      control the crumbs                   it's easy     to think: 
every      poem written     is an hour       wasted 
not       control the author sculpts the first time   we've met       
it's only me fishing some thoughts:           every poem written       
is an hour wasted       not the       author does not control the author          
does           not the   reader       the reader the      author                 
the king         something some thinking: every poem written 
is an       hour wasted      do not control the stone           
the author           the author                the author does 
not doing for the stone the bread crumbs       it's easy 
to think: every poem written is   an hour wasted          
not doing   something    about it              
celebrations outstanding     
something worth thinking:      every poem          written 
is an hour wasted   not the         crumbling king 
it's easy to think: every poem written      is an hour wasted 
control the author      the author does          not ink: every poem written 
is       an hour       wasted         do not        control the author   the king         
about it       celebrations outstanding          
it's only me fishing bread           crumbs it's easy to         think: 
every poem written is an hour wasted not the author    
does not the author does not          control the         reader 
the bread crumbs     they're only me     fishing for some thinking: 
every poem written is an hour wasted    not       eating bread crumbs     
it's easy to think:       every         poem written     is          an hour         wasted        
not the author sculpting the author the crumbs of every poem written     
an hour wasted not              controling   the reader not       controling the king 
some thinking is in order: every poem written is an hour controlled 
king something: writing the    author           the author does read crumbs       
it's    only me      fishing           for celebrations outstanding 
some wasted thinking:       every poem is       the author 
the author sculpts the author sculpts the author does not make the king think: 
every     poem written   is an hour wasted         not        
the king of dirt           sunday a dapper       don man         will appear  
don man will dapper  don     man will appear don man will       
dapper don man       will will will 
man appear dapper    don man will nape of
dapper don man