Monday, March 28, 2011

Monday, March 14, 2011



BREAKFAST

Retired jellyfish choke a mall of seaweed. A homage to newly unearthed columns of fifteen dark messages prophesizing shores in all human navels. Swimming pools rowing between apartment walls.



SELF-PORTRAIT IN BARK

Tag reindeers. Stab and maybe resurrect. So.

Propose to drunken lead the life still in a dead world. Constellations swaying.

Their violet and pink surplus matched by a black owl perched like a madman's bagel.

In a circle of mannequins the great cycle of ticking racks link. That's life yet to be spare.

Moss and poppy was. Whales on icy lava equal.



THE FRIENDS

The carved horse. Its little hell. Bright barge flailing. Flat in factory. Ears that don't belong anymore. Glass suppers and creation.



GORGE FORM

In the forest dreaming of more. Thoughts get bitchier. Death.

On the way a cake knife behinds a curtain. Bow and arrow gorges form.

Mercury spree. Bursting dune. Lake of thunderstorms. Forests stew. 


Friday, March 11, 2011

Sunday, March 6, 2011


I'M MASTURBATING

Hoping for The Rapture. Ten-four. That's why celebrities commit gouda.

On nobody's jaw the sun dies eternally. She's being 6 things they didn't realize about eating.

Ready to stop seeing. Doom blankets the entire world. Monetize. You're masturbating.


VIEWER'S GUIDE

Air for
A head of gray hay.
I'm foreign.
Abyss and shit in my love.
Dandy air whore.
Paused lump.

I love to suck on nature's
Icy else
For donkeys.


I'VE STOPPED WRITING

Like that clip in my dream licking an article,
This poetry looks mentally challenged.
Plus that pluck with the face a click back
Sent articles to
Stars, firewood.
Uncut mud out now
Seems a mental block
Out of now.
Cut like a mud licker
Plucked from a dream in my face,
The clip just walks and stars.
His poetry challenges quickly, cleanly.
True religion. Costco.


Thursday, March 3, 2011



BIG LIGHT

Dumpling sex on the cross.
God is good to eat.
Invisible forces are great to think.
Big ugliness.

Big beauty.
Inner Drano swig.
Big decay.
I eat my dead brain on the cross.

I identify with the life identity of its dead.
My edge is orbiting my life inside of my death.
God spanks dumplings during this entire game.
Bilingual eyesore.


I CLIMB INTO THE MIND

Of a hermit in a tree. The ecstatic one. Little mothering sledgehammer.

I'm two-legged cave fondling. Close to a hood. A long hair in us three.

Milk from a snail is a kind of ape shell
Protecting basketfuls of sledgehammered children more vivid than cursed planets.

I quake like a cursed planet. Totally sponsored. I wake up having sex with the death of water.

Horn loaded hybrid sun crossed by forks. Through hobgoblin air night-frights are claiming HBO is better.


THE BODY CAVITY AND A LOT OF

The end is near.
Too drunk to write.
Stephen King interjects:
Supersize the zombie's astigmatism frozen in a pedophile’s fishtank.

Tablets that dominate gadget shows
Starve animals more sophisticated than previously mopped.
A bit of spittled rant weighs my teeth
Sleeping on pins or twats.

Beach outages widespread.
Useless spines skin my wine.
Some impossibilities are alive simply to handcuff
A stag sucked onto totems on a tote bag and blind.

I munch my own butt, Daddy-like.
Or lust Parkinson's, ninny and remarkable.
Might be a crouton’s most perfect
Dyslectic whatsoever.

Hear trailer trash kids in the infomercial lane say
As no one has Nerf-tits is perfection as is possible.
The proper English term is black and white people spark
No more beauty except in their struggle.

The end is here.
Acorn apes rape a hot Harry Potter-inspired fishtank.
Stephen gets dialectically hungry, fuck
Him.


WITHOUT THE NEXT

People know there are pet stores.
It doesn't take much more to encourage
My drinking.
I look at the mug with somebody else's
Rumors of existence, and I guess
Candybars come from
Elastic pumped into warm, dissident lipsticks.

A crop circle of ovary eggs makes
An unemployment office
That is pretty, well-painted.
People catch me napping there.
I speak only when
Sometimes I think about different sandwiches.
A sick fish looks as if it has been salted.
That is enough to fill a new pond
Without the next.