W I K I P O E S I S
What happened here-- this word spit painted on photonic page, light
graffitied into being. Language stretches an ontic yawn from its armchair, flexes
for philosophers busy with pronunciations,their semicolons, predictions and prepositions,
“etaphoical”s displaced and stumbling around the ever-confessional.Remember:mouths expresse slowly. The purple mass bloomed from the tongue becomes a tourniquet, becomes
asharp-hearted osteotome. Tell this to your children: Post-modernism will always bewhat we call every bridge once burned.The digital silence we’ve made is a finger sliced, is the lambs I saw in pieces once at a
Theses for Wikipoeses:
Wikipoesis,
You ain’t my thesis. Every morning
I get up, I never feel
Compelled toward
exigesis.
Yeezus
Is there somewhere nowhere goes just to get away from it all? And if we can’t stop it can we at least slow down the world . . . you move too fast, I’d like to make this fucking last . . . maybe we’re all just a quick wank that like mandrake grows in soil soiled. What does God fantasize about . . . ? Whose picture does God have tacked to the wall? A lily or a larry---is God straight, or a fairy? My time is short, my passion long, my boaty’s ding, my double, Dong.
Eclipse in Zeeland
She stopped for gas,
But I didn’t mind waiting—
I was drowsy on
Berry White,
Watching gusts of rain
Belling the
Streetlight.
Here we are: the rubbish.
The dead.
The un-memorial.
Facing gluttony
It is not something I plan so much as something
I try not to avoid; if bets could be placed
on the odds of trouble, I would make
quite a profit. of course,
it is not so much a thing to be proud of,
this trouble. though I cannot help whispering
of adventures and mishaps, I am careful
to end my stories with a certain sense of chagrin.
but chagrin is never as well received
as trouble.
Purple clouds amassing west
Femme exasperated
I would not see her I’ve come to realize
Metaphor was old weather
I open rigorously
Plainer disrobed
Brimming fancifuls with so many likes
Exigesis and haven, butter
A tangle of letters
Soaked, sank, bear with me
Call the hospital,
Pay swollen liver fees
They said don’t dare
keep your eyes bare and
your heart resigned and
you’ll be fine, they said.
Liver rank and bulging
out of skin out of touch
out of time, but you’ll be fine,
they said, no dread
You took the short road and
I the rough one
I never had your stamina
But you’ll be fine, they said
Dread for the dead is a wasted
sentiment.
Unfist the line, O, charming boy-girl,
the trick is to watch without staring.
*
We took to each other. Took time,
took what offered itself, I recall.
You, deep-veined. Me, unlettered.
& the storm came in quickly.
O, TFW you unlike the brimming fanciful.
Like, once our bodies knew what we’d become--
tangles of smoked-glass skin, stretched desire,
& weary, we slept the fever back & dreamt.
You didn’t what you couldn’t & I hated you for it.
Love the harmonious, the well-tuned?
Of orchards, of longing and of other poetic spaces.
I suppose chivalry’s dead. Knock knock.
Who’s there. Neologist. Neologist who?
Um… Unvoiced
-nesses, -ides, and -ties. //
What’s a-positional, before and after?
It’s putting the income in nincompoop!
It’s answer the door well before
You understand the things we tell
Each other in passages between.
Has not that I’ve bestowed.
Call unto me a song. Such sweetness
She said, I don’t do “unto.”
Neither tide nor tidal bore.
Call back what’s been undone.
Call back what’s unpresented.
So stay distance. Stay becoming.
Dare you to leave it the strength to improve.
A change, a final change includes no authority.
Oh the unnecessaries of a generation—
to harm or compare or associate.
Act so that there is no use
in a center. Wide action is not
a width.” An answer yields up.
the body’s politic’s more than souls --
I was not awake & I,
I was not unsurprised.
I’d heard the words darked-up
and, like I, exasperated.
As if you’d been enough.
Fanfic’s always the best fic.
She called me the calm before the awesomeness.
So I call her, in principle.
It was never my thing — change.
So I dare not, so I’d feign Black Betty,
that pretty poisson, those golden tassels--
O, those pumps and whispers. Longing, as they say,
& when we we draft compromise, we invite excess.
*
Longing for eats
They do not eat
Still on diet.
clinking of a knife
on a dish
better to use a fork
fry oil
paper towel ripping
clopping drawers
not in bare feet
she stalks
what the clocks
Cannot do
Mice, nibbling
Wink at your neutrality
Shadow of a cat defies
A cold burger
Styrofoam boxes in the yard waste
I”m for veggies
Month’s second new moon
One cricket winding down
Close the window
Noonday fog
Whom does an addict quit for?
Hoped for bright noon
Tongue thickly searching
Teeth and gums for anything
Where’s the f----- cavity
tongues rushing upwards
searching for cooler water
Antigravity machines
“Okay.”
Wrote a name like a byline
On the side of his newsboy hand
and scrawled fake lorems up the wrists
leaving chestnut column arms empty
of old opinion.
No one edits nonsense.
No time for nonsense
with so much light dimming
and a sky like that.
We have work to do
not 9 - 5 but every
number. Hard
work: hands to hold
hearts to feel stop beating.
Positivity
Hoping for more yet never not dreaming.
Finding our feet and stepping through rough.
We do what we must and we must never sleep.
Breaking new barriers and searching new grounds.
Exploring ourselves and the unknowns of life,
Growing and changing as the world chooses.
Out on our own in the unexplored world;
Making so plain just how well we cope.
A newborn created, all concerned relieved;
More reasons to live now than just to breathe.
As we always said it would
Enjoying the love and giving life freely
Battling hard to be happy ideally.
The end is approaching, my time has gone;
All I have lived and all I have is done.
Gone too soon family and too soon my wife,
Seems to me that there should be more to life.
echo chamber
meet me underground
meet me where the nowhere
becomes a place we understand to be our new home.
my new phone
blocks out the sound. blocks calls from your mother and mine
mine heart mine letter mine own
tongue rendered rent
due north, due aparted
apartment in a house with inglenooks with olive light fixtures
you and I staring into it
Is there still a god to claim home
Here
Half-cut, drinking milk under your arm,
counting my sins,
Pleading. And all the while the womb of eternity swells
Waiting to birth a bright-star world
Where I becomes the We and eyes begin to see
Beyond this tiny now that aches with the beatings of time
Against the timelessness of all Creation
Like a butterfly being born
Again. . .and again. . .and again. . .
Afresh
I wish for once, the tap
on my shoulder would be enough
to set off the firework under my bed.
I erased you before you could invade my dreams again.
Don’t say you wouldn’t do it too
If you had the chance to trace your lips in gold
Skimpy silk baths and rose candles casting light onto your skin
You’re not human anymore
I know you would
I reach deep into the heart of painting,
pull out its guts
ripping canvas and flesh,
always darkness
past whiteness
When they came i sat naked in the leather sofa with a tall glass of vodka. The children were in the bathroom or the kitchen. Afterwards i smoked a cigarette on the balcony. i was free.
Though even there everything around me had vanished;
a cement floor, paint-flecked walls and ceiling,
tiny scraps of paper
where I scribbled days into mindless dreams
of the woman who married another man,
of rumors in the night and this stale, tiredness
gathered at my eyes. Mary gives me hope.
Fractured Visions
Imprinted on my computer
During my last trip-up
Liked their fur and their weird vertex assholes
I liked nature as a kid
This was of course in the 80’s
Anyways, every day you learn something new
If only this could not have been cuz
of spite if only for winnows. A threat
Spite for spurt’s sake — raucus…
Untouched leaves of spiteful flail.
Saxon-like, there’s hope yet.
Concessession concede. How’s that for concise.
I am, but nevermine. Mine, awry mine, mine dream-boat
another time, so can you not, Nah.
Whatever this is has not been
Avowed drosser. What’s this’ what is this is not. This Blunder
Dross the drossiest a river dream thirl trill
underside of dross unceaseingly. Senselessly.
Dross the drossiest underside of dross.
Dross as what was this before and how befits this, your ass-face.
Aassface this has not been What wasn’t could not hold Has this been Could this not be Could—
Will, like whiteboy metaphorical fires, will.
Ruing the drossy underside of this commitment.
Unpaced & dross it up good. Unceasingly sully
I will dross by doing, dross whatever the drossed like what undivented
were’d it were’t as gesture false
‘cuz you are with me here
even the undeniable even blundering
grapes lees dregs
droozy blunderings drossy is gummy
as only fires will do kept close
wept metaphizzicle drossy orical fires and etaphoical tears.
But eschatological Blunder. No’s a full stop.
Clarity and certainty inapt.
Certain of a turn.
Suplant Suffice supplicant mine eyes
I’ll have this go awry or would I. Would
this go awry. And how would I know. I’d have the indign.
I’d indign. Unknow hazard an evening out.
I’d even. I’d preclude. Can. You. Those final what’s final
& otherwise & what’s ugly speaks. Young-ly youth
un-be undoes is this the place to get I’m askin’
What’s inappropriate. Reader, do I indign? Do I intone
Take what’s set before us. Falsity. Continuance.
Sundry’s finality tis sundry an’s sundry.
We take what set before us. So what’s now. In reverse. Refocus
Topsy-turvy. What now what’s all flat particulars.
Could you rehash does and re-does.
All-flattening nothing in particular.
A taking-stock, if you will.
A brightening thing at the edge of our vision.
Myopic generalizable. Whether a held bright thing.
We’re uncertain and disputed.
I hope hope evens out.
However the examples cited are interpreted.
Uncertain and disputed.
Worm Friend
I saved a worm today.
He didn’t try to get away.
He didn’t know who I was.
He writhed in a ball of fear because -
He felt my finger touching him.
His worm brain sensed medieval sin:
Dry skin upon his wet skin.
Both only dead and grey in the end.
Today is the day - I declare him to be my friend.
*
bleary
from sleep and warm
water and no glasses
i spot an uncertain comma
sliding
he drags
his tail up my
shower wall cumbersome
and not unmaggotesque and i
can see
his guts
or maybe it’s
his dinner i lean in
and squint for a better view of
his face
the boy
is spotty and
bean-legged like a young
caterpillar but uglier
i don’t
know how
he got in here
i can’t feed him this boy
will just have to fend for himself
naked
and damp
i slither out
a pupa but with lots
more limbs and leave my companion
to wash
so dumb