Pulsar inanimation

Would you cease to breathe

to hear the divine transmission?

would you breathe

a mix of smog

to grow your potted children

in the fog?

who slipped sleeves in my milk?

and why I ask you

or wide open air's a secret

air I found with a lock of hair

keeping me out of

the old Earth echoes (almost silent Today)

Away from the mutts

frothing roses tossing

small hooks into the sea

away from lamps, you know

thanks for trying, I bet it feels slightly opiated

to justify dream symbols with what you believe is

so real you can

taste it on your fork-

I bleed forks ! !

She even insufflated the shattered wine glasses

for dessert.

and when we had no paragons, you

carved wings into your back

I peeled my palms

unveiling something like a twinkling nucleus

of nectar ?

*

a shiny light,

something to bite

before he imbibes all the small vials

of primary paints

and black

runs down the mouth

of a desert.

crawled

through all the prickly chins . .

coming to a shady end

2

everyone at an office were pacing around

faux stone desks, assembling conversations

about their own unique dreams projected

just the night before,

right before

all their dreams fit

into square shoes.

And so, the path of The Alarmed brought together

the tied and tidy chatter

who all feel obligated

like a window

to the World; city.

3

a corkless convulsion

and Venus

might I toss out my palm

and with a wiggle

twirl a good bye

all while the door seals

closing my eyes

and feeling the outskirts of you

change from sea foam green

to indigo once coming into contact

with true wind

green lights are srats

green lights are srats!

7

stroking blue cobwebs

from a beard I found

stepping through a thick

brick, wall.

One atom detaches from my

Heart and peels through

Slick ribs,

becoming the smoke, the room just

evaporates and clicks

open a chest.

Kudzu crawls from a tattooed wrist,

tribally knocking over a mummified

Bufo,

dancing with gravity's

triangular nape

After Life

For I,

and I

and I

 

1

swamp bubbles up

blips glopped gloop

of chewed, brewed murk

slipping right off the willow

who's bin jinnin the outskats.

A night sucking the skin off your own

jivin' bones

rattle like an old holey muffler

in the middle of nowhere

is motionless

and inward still.

My love,

she changes color

by crawling through

old ebb fences.

Auroraborealoon,

a universe ALIVE and

b l i n k i n g.

Wiping electrons in plasmatic fire baths right

from our magnetic skies-

There's treasure hiding

behind those eyes

and nowhere.

sand bags tossed from an Auroraborealoon

old rusty screws his trumpet

to his lips

ascending doppling wind

I spy him tip-toe to the clouds-

though, his horn corrodes,

rains down bolts.

Beware when

wind picks up stone lungs
breathing red-eyes with a dead Howl
still lingers life-

Beware,

seekers sing

for cosmos.

Seekers sing

in chambers,

dimming days

Four hours
four legs-
half of what an octopus might use
to stand up straight
someday. Locks without keys.

a sonnet into the desert

I'm bidding twelve rupees on the sun
can be seen in posters on flaking bricks
I stroll by, see my shadow pull a gun
on this memory, you see, it sticks.
Quite like the time we made our way through tall glass
to the half-factory, painting Teal clouds
all while your fingers, dripping brass
Falls into a puddle so louds.
Again, I see the sun rise
so I bid thirteen,
I wash away my disguise
and plant a magic bean.
And without a warning we stop-
Without warning we soar fetalic to the top.

a sonnet into existence

Last thing I heard was a candle being blown out
of existence, made me want to put my hood on.
One of these days, when the baphomet's about
someone'll run naked right thru the sky toward dawn.
Then, a longhorn,
somewhere inland,
blooms birth born
whom crawled back into the sand.
'Love the echo of the mind . .
just like clouds now, colors, all-
Docks extend into the rind,
feeling metallic notes fall
as wavelengths; feel the Earth shiver
tripping, watching time pinwheel everywhere by a river.

clouds
some kind of wallowing toadstool with a
hunched back, stalking stars.
her small gray daughter clings to her back
and further they trek,

bleeding blue.

Morphing into what appears to be
a candelabra of dragons breathing
lightning, kinky whips thru the loud ruins

of god

Earth rains down my insides

Chair
there's a point at the top of some pyramids
that poke the jelly of infinity

with the intent to draw bottles on my eyes in my sleep--
the sand man's dead

So, I've decided to go for a walk and ponder negative energy
that comes, and goes, You know-

Allowing it to descend
a pyramid of my own

building something impossible,
grinning a thirty foot sidewalk

Brain
Detuned,
my only tongue drops
pitch, clearing way for the
Basilisk entranced by a piper
just pondering death around his
crowd he's reeled in by now with just
a wee bit more gravity than an ape without
a flute from Timbuktu.

Deep into the song
isn't really a
song anymore
than a copious allotment of density.

Caught
black vines unwind tonight,
reciting the clinging
medley of Venus
fly traps eating
suns-
dimming days.

disperse

reproducing
the catalyst lingering amongst the
brush,
and things like gnomes, trolls,
and wind whispering my
existence here is ghastly, and you
my friend, our union by this river
is appreciated.

in a moon lit scene,
by a parasitic stream,
sounding beautiful,