what if variability,
secondhandedness of perception--
captured the significance of crossing
paths with another animal.
at home.
where food & shelter play nice.
above all else, heir to what's human--
above all else.
more ingenious than a one-to-one basis,
as what stands in place of what stands
in place.
produces masterful portraitures--of what
also stands in place of what stands in place.

it moves--having thrown open

its crusty eyes, unable to see passed

itself.

fat enough to live off itself--another

helping of world, it moves.

by itself, for itself--presence first,

as shamelessness wanders.

a sty within,  relocating to a sty within.

not knowing what's not to be named

of its beasthood, to preserve the absence

of its beasthood.

a glorious revulsion, that as soon eat the

star of the wisemen--once its stomach feels

uncomfortable.

phrenological markups

around a seraphim's

shaved head.

found the contoured unevenness 

of gross neglect--in regard to

human case studies.

after exhaustive High-hand

groping.

subject to the penal code of a

gargantuan pipe *****--where a

single note could signify any number

of years--even before sentencing.

a gypsy has the
horses of her
caravan
sit like
schoolchildren.
while she suckles
on a rabbit foot...
unpacified.
then uses it to
scratch an itch.
taking pleasure in
giving the moon
her evilest eye.

a broken column tilts at a forty five

degree angle--bulging earth at its

base.

its top resembles a snapped femur,

whose opposable reflection streams

along a murky sky.

unaccountably driven to its lone feature,

starkly confessant among a hill's dry grass.

an Orphic marker bowing to the downriver

strum of a lyre, that carries...

a bundle of strings,

murmuring skyward.

(think) deep sea tentacles--

deflating/reinflating.

bioluminescent

balloons in a jellyfish's

transparent wet suit.

a clown out of character--

constructing a model circus

from scratch.

a harpy.

silvered & gilded--

feathered & tarred

in an illuminated manuscript.

yay to the irony of feather

weighing down feather,

uglier than awkward.

forced out of a gewy shower

of pitch black.

as said harpy begs flight to fancy

her, from the humiliation of

chance-posterity.

where she's granted with a sloppy

flop onto the page's margin.

down the main aisles of a movie theater,
cranial malformations of popcorn are
crushed.
the brittle knockabouts of a cannibal's
unstrung necklace--left to the ritualized
red of Hollywood's carpet.
the flashlight of a theater attendant stretches
out its beam, to pinned concentrations.
just as the movie screen becomes the bubbling,
gaping hole of burnt film.
the projector let through, flickering back its raw
form.

inappropriate laughter from caches

of silence--

contextually disembodied.

weird people weirded out,

the pressing matter of face-economy.

stuck to its numbing anesthetic, the

unnaturalness of skin snubbing skin.

while on friendly terms.

a gusty whip of pages,

read clear as a

goat's bell collar.

what deflowers snow--

this stack

of monthly grimoires.

broken open

by penetrative invocations.

as leaves slowly begin to

bake.

lightless cessations

underground--pushing

against the crumpled

lightning of roots.

sparking its sensitive

wires that blow open a

casket like a safe.

a cold spot

in a

bottomless

ocean--

can be felt

more often

than not.

there's always another version to put

out--deny identity among the crowd

one generates.

--are you who you say you are?

is the constant question circulated by the

crowd--one to another, as a version of the

same one.

as one would say: peace be with you, in

church--to the ones nearest.

except this is a multiplicitous self-interegation--

which refuses identication, therefore peace.

melancholia loses its voice after

the unbroken rasp of its whispers--

are stripped naked by the oppressive

vapors it possessed to temper.

lordly & nonemergent--walked thru

the walls of its mansion, into rooms

that bear the sound of drizzle.

hallways of bounding sunlight, stunted

by dense clouds.

an inexhaustibly long queue of

devils, decked out with their spin on

evil.

mugging their motherless faces--

all holding a  bouquet of black velvet

flowers.

some noshing on them, some thwapping

the devil in front of them over the head.

filing one by one into a small yinmn blue

room.

to take headshots for sacred auditions.

a table knife files its teeth

across a stale loaf of bread.

left imbedded enough to

be concealed by the crust.

its handle juts out, reharnessing

a grip that is no longer there.

a dusting of breadcrumbs line

both sides of the knife, &

an absentminded return to visibility

on the table.

a clock hanging on the kitchen wall

fixates on this discarded still life--

concentrating its repression.

bending the nail that sends it to the

floor--as an accompanying piece.

a ravening intensity wants an

ongoing plane after peak experience.

there's a lopsidedness that slinks off

what evenly secures bliss.

this faithful deformity starts to show

up earlier & earlier--before arriving.

thru the inevitable dread of what it

will throw off.

there's a tap on dark's back--

ad infinitum.

it always turns around in response.

as if at the edge of a bed--the stimulus

of this gentle touch is the light it can

see coming.

let X=(a sky)=(The Sky)...flying monkeys

clogging it, duress above a forest

canopy.

whacking wings & weighted feet descending

thru the pieced puzzle of top tier leaves.

raining sloshes thrashed with *******--

the sound of their flock's forced entry.

free for all guttural whoops on the forest floor,

formidable wings spread and withdrawn every

which way.

no apprehension of Oz's legendary four to be

had, just a new settlement long after their ruler

turned into a puddle of water.

let X=(a forest)=(The Forest).

eaten by her own stride, city blocks

half-lit as country lanes, her gloomy

covenant with diurnal & nocturnal

coup de grace.

a notch taller than short, stick-thin,

dragging around a hag's last birthday--

face bald as an egg.

tattered habit--cowl over her head...whose

black cloth drapes down as if producing

antiquated photographs of oblivion.

a strong wind gust rips back her cowl--

loosing petals from the cherry blossom

wreath she wears, as it rests crookedly.

as a serpent sleeps ahead of the

departed.

limp under flashes of yellow.

stretched to meet the ground it will

cover throughout its incarnation--

without moving.

its blood icily curled up into drifting

*****, trickled over by warm effluxes.

a stone in its mouth, a rose in its stomach.

peeled away.

this outward ****** that visits

us--after cold buckles when its

interminable rites have been read.

this visitor--right from the heart,

going right for the heart...throws us

into that central fire.

April is concomitant with the abrupt

feel of flame, all dormancy goes up.

stalled light--

a pallid break not to make

day.

forever this--bedridden grey

staring out from the world.

clay roused from cinders--twitching

before disjointed  movements.

similar to 19th century electric

shocks administered to deceased

frogs.

a realm of colorblind variances to

wakefulness--densify the fog of these

peoples.

whose trailing opiates of sleep rapidly

play their eyes beneath lids--smudge marks

on a colorless palette.

wasps tap at windows with

long poisonous splinters, blanked

backward by a clear barrier.

not often detracted.

sideswiped by illustrated

howls blown as gradients of

emptiness.

spitting sparse raindrops, &

wearing the fragrantly cocktailed

rub of a garment out of doors.

vivid to the sense of smell, as if

brought indoors.

a shadow marionette of an

anthropoid, is controlled by superstrings.

it is bound to the outermost groove

of a blackhole, whose last audible

recording sounds from it.

exclusively sent down to the surface

of deep sea oceans across the earth.

occasionally overawed fisherman will

see the performance of its danse macabre

when dawn's most brilliant.

becoming incontinent when hearing the

extinction of sound via song.

letter block houses form a word--

every time one of its occupants guess the

word death is thinking of.

absurd as in their manner to define--

these naked giants that rise with the salt of

the earth & fall with the rain.

unable to miss one another thru tinsy niceties

& fashionable rags.

hide becomes the operative word, like: applause

to a live audience.

spot-check survival prods at their peace--as auric

toxins coarse & compile like bowel movements.

as if they're put to: The Question by Grand Inquisitors...

tortured until they confess: I'm fulfilled.

an archway with ivy bangs, glass cuts

another archway with ivy bangs.

dangling from the foreheads of a gothic

tunnel.

magnifying feet that have masticated

undergrowth & path.

the metamorphose of a human animal,

whose keenness still rings in the ears--

while ****** into the pressure of the tunnel.

a soundproof & sound-enhancing paradox,

that spacewalks limbs.

coupled with the aerodynamic windbreaks of

cars, riding the back of its modest overpass.

then the emergence to a connective forest

path--as if cleansed before a consequent

afterworld.

a spider's minced eyes--

studded gemstones

whose beaty twinkles

reflect suspension.

immaculately pinned to

the molding that draws

down the line of a corner.

in a room where two walls

meet--the imperceptible

musicality of its web, playing

a number to be consumed.

Botero's ballooning

figurations parade

into Giacometti's studio.

greeted by emaciations

that seem cast in disheveled

breadlines.

as with a vomitus

start from bed--

the melted voices of

the mind moonlighting

the wee hour of a body.

sectioned off from what

retired it--so countercurrents

of alarm may impress

something that has happened.

though not yet.

ruling planets cut thru

the screen of midday's midnight--

juggernauts with blowing foghorns.

super-schizoid percolations of color...

the earth herself posing as a spinning

sitter, whose turns are fed to the

paralytic lucidities of turns that will be.

yet there's no turning to be had, when she

hatches.

the screen suddenly seals--midnight's

midday...& thru the screen's holes

serpentine wavicles enter the potentia

of billions of breathers.

the amorphous

evolutions of a single

cloud are made to

happen at once.

until it breaks out of

the sky's barrier--as

a negative space.

which funnels it

complete.

sallow outer shells of lamplight

shiver fragile lines of light--

to the wall.

hardly palatable to the clam juice

residuals of late light, airbrushed

by a rain even more coy than a

fine mist.

as afterbirth-roots are fleshed out

by a chill, insisting on leaping

backward more than a few weeks.

twelve pointed hats

lower over the silver pan

of her High North reclusion.

set down.

she stir fries the vegetative

chants of a clockwork coven.

an aroma fills the forest...

the unachievable balance between

decay & delectability.

the ground/sidewalks/streets

are usually checkered fluctuations

that accelerate into vortical pits.

then are spit out.

as if not being where one is--

consequentially proceeding toward:

having not been.

yet, as it seems currently...the weight

of the entire world settles, & an

existential foothold shoots blocked

information thru the crown.

a raven is stitched as

with the leatherbound

trackwork of a baseball.

its beak is like a mangled

dagger, resembling uncut

fingernails for a lifetime.

its eyes are enlarged tapioca

*****, bursting milky residue.

it perches on tree roots--as

it suckles on soil & attempts

to rip its wings from underworld

mending.

the thick of thick,

thickens---the thin of

thin, thins.

as said, in all--as a tree.

as trees.

subject to inkblot cavities of nightly

bluffing.

encompassed by wind--

what the invisible relies on

as a sound which's more

than a single sound.

the sun's obese, plasmic

belly--is getting flowers

stuck to it like barnacles.

a buddha that'll undoubtedly

laugh them off.

an aeon from root to pistil.

kingdoms of reality

banish vagaries & laud

fixity.

so passable with slight

deviations--unnoticed

by hawkeye sanity.

as with the accountability

of a thing--to be left as it

was left.

until kingdoms of reality

are lain siege--gross in

apparency as rubble to

mind, mind to rubble.

boar by name, inscrutable.

bit off its mouth, with its mouth--

to get to an apple seated on its

drooling tongue.

enchambered by tusks...violent

snap jaw breaks thru eyepopping

****** paralysis.

somewhere between spit & silver platter...

game & fixings.

the boar was wrenched from the terminus

of sleep--to put back to sleep the festivity

of its flesh.

once made aware of it.

the sound of grainy footage

popping like rice crispy treats--

as time says: ahh.

these open vaults that spare no

detail, change underlying with

permanence.

easily recognizable neighborhood

composites, cramming a wink

with volumes of standing impressions.

the genesis of a:

Crandall Typewriter,

hits its ornamental lettering

in its cathedral.

retouches of frozen fingertips--

made to return to those irresistible

keys.

nook, silken tap--a decisive rake of

blent sound.

seepage of ink on crisp paper.

the sun squares off the tiles of northern

European roofing--with the bucking

prims of tucked shadows.

the shred-throat jellied gurgles of

starlings, rehashing into piercing tweets

throughout the whitening gold of dusk.

the central tutelage of a silence, outlined

by sounds of inbreaking traffic.

there's an ache for

every ambrosial brick

worked out like a tooth.

so synergistic commons

can band the prolix of

agape...springtime.

a string of diamonds liquify

from the film of one less sky--

its absence emptying jewel boxes.

subsiding hushes that return

right before they permanently

fade--as the process automatically

resumes.

slant elegancies of gently ground

diamonds, trying on rain from window

to mirror.

a phosphene vase

draws itself--with

a pastel outline of:

violet purple/jade green/

ochre orange.

Venus' long fuchsia legs

kicking out from its lip.

as she takes root--headfirst.