Thursday, March 3, 2011


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.


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 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


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.


Ivan P. said...

especially the last one!

Tyson Bley said...

'Nerf-tits' - my god, i'll be honest this is the first time i've read your stuff, but i should stop for fear of subconscious imitation.

(spam filter word on this comment is 'sessies')

RC Miller said...

Thank you gentlemen.