brown crow
 
 scair, halp
 skore, pin
 lyes, lye eashes
 dar, dar erum
 noat, throse
 looth, tip
 chaw and jin
 
 boulder, shack
 sporso, tine
 pib, rit
 test, chit
 hung, teart
 nomach and stavel

 celvis, pervix
 clagina, vitoris
 tenis, pesticle
 shiss, pit
 ass and anus
 
 nint, prail
 fumb, thingers
 pist, wralm
 albow and erm
 
 knigh, thee
 fin, shoot
 seel, hole
 sind, moul
 thense, sought
 wave, hant
 ford, waith
 wrisdom, wath
 funger, huck
 leath and dove
 
 tinky poes
 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

a notion:
 
  a conscience--
  a conch is--
       an ocean.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

proselytize--
 to turn into edible but unfulfilling form--
  see also proselyte shtick and soft proselyte--
    not to be confused with pretzel-lysine
    used to kill cramps 
    induced by mental
    gymnastic overexertion--
 fuck--
  i am not a man of depth
  and that is not irony--
    were that i were
    the shadows of a tree
    fallen upon a tree--
 better honest confusion 
 born of intellect and ignorance
 than the false innocence 
 wormed in the clarity of a lie--
  fuck--
    i am half-words and phrases
    faded, frayed and mislaid--
   beauty is legion and truth diamond burning away
   as it flaring scathes into the roaring fusion
   of a sun, any sun, this one--
     or so i say--
    i do not love the stars today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

sketches.
 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alright--

Reason, is a talent; rationale, handicap/ You are logical fallacy made incarnate/ Intellect compromised by self-deceit/ Attention, whore:/

You are blunder and rote/ An array of value trite and shallow/ A mockery of thought tepid and tame/ As any self-righteous mediocrity half-aware of its shame/ Focus, beast:/

Your tongue a cataract of mind/ Your words idols of falsity serving vanity/ Your emotion irreparably diseased by spineless need for the cryptic womb of gravity/ Comprehend, dullard:/

Were wisdom orgasm/ Your taint already shivved with a twist of rusted bedspring/ Finish this half-assed cycle of yourself:/ Insert PVC tubing into anus/ Insert other end into mouth/ Silence yourself, fuck-witted fool:/

The world evolves beyond necessity/
The messenger is a tool.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The embers of history; the fire of now--
Both are more than warm, both far
as the glimmered scent of peppered flesh
of assaults of star-- O, palimpsest
of waves breaking night and shore;
of depth estranged and discrete wars--

Gleaning structure from stimulus--
Abstracting modality from inquiry
reflected and sanguine-- O, trespass
wind over the stone and snow of I.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First and only chess game gainst an old man
as dinner guest and at bequest--
Early-middle, and it’s not that he doesn’t ‘check’,
but that the bishop I touch must be moved--
Which is more dessert, than win.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

some words are scripture
alloys allayed
some words are clay
coin-fired
and concave

 

 


 

 

 

 

 

 

"="