Thursday, August 20, 2009


TRACES OF MODERN ART

Go shopping. Go for a walk.
Go swimming at the pool.
Stick to upbeat topics.
In fiscal dices, abuzz.

Mourners pay respect to star-free audits.
Wasp stings accuse them of molesting solar panels.
The most rarely petitioned hairstyle is a douching.
I get out of this routine funk because Michael loved castles.

Deep down, a picture corrupts briefly.
Another girl on her stream, I've got the spirit
Monitoring my partner's pages.
Couple-y hydrangeas, no room for the weak.

Credit cards old enough to tote think twice about fried chicken.
What can you do about it?
Swine flu, SARS, and the like.
With all of us ends everyone that touches.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009


CROSSROADS LOW

Where ate you.
I reckon it was pieces of the sightseers
Exploding out of my imagination.
Six senses envision their lonely immortality.
Fingers and foes rigidly defeated, soon
Disposed of as hollow shells.
The negative spaces resulting
Are filled by sharp metal queefs.
Authorized pastries on the podium.

Just added sympathy unfolding wits and wizardry.
A splash of guilt, explaining things is gizzardly.
Through combinations of maternal blood
And paternal sperm, an enormous navel
Bleached of any intelligence
Patterns itself with allusions
To a rainbow.
Extradited leopards sleep in conclusion.
Penis, headless ham.

Saturday, August 8, 2009


UNFINISHED MASK

Free pregnancies retreat from reason.
A soup of smoke, winds regenerated to threaten.

Intimate umbilical, intuition severed.
Bloody wetland primeval.

Duly abandoned by the flock, king-sized
Ripples host holes right through dips.

The mystical closeness of the vile.
Come death, a countdown so complacent.

And lips do their best to copy nature.
All this lack is potential use.

Friday, August 7, 2009


HERMAPHRODITE RIDER

Bliss for your strangled cry.
Cheese-wedge amazement, almost to the extreme
Of real faces.
A mask of me swells on women who see it, and
They're rendered sterile;
Forced to persist in overlapping parts.
What shoots up straight restores balance
To the pearl.
A divination that escapes the untrained.

Thursday, August 6, 2009


WESTERNER

How to tell a mall it's dying.
Fuck your kitten like a hood.
Circles are stars and insects.