Monday, November 16, 2009

MANchurner

la;kdgi2://

suspended croft and banner,
i hath hobbled to der kuttin board to get some game. seems
like everyone had a bad version of the same. idea, that is.
piecharts and surfer kingdoms. the worst kind of rash - an
inner. now with outie belly buttons ripe for the pressing.
such a sad bench these will be when the workmen carve out a
new sentence. theirs end with preparatory nuggets.
mine end with whistles!

toot.

Rhizoid

Voot voot, boring into the door, came the owls, upon the hour. Clocking cuckoo, striking , the wooden gong, the clickety-clack of clogs upon the overfloor, the treehouse dome, the gremlin cartels and their business matters, the plaster of paris moving towards the sunlight Pinocchio in life-seeking. I peaked through the cabbage patch at the door and the smoking seagulls that can’t catch the wind for all their gusto, and the 700 year old hunter with the blunderbuss. Buster keaton’s comedy routine upside down on the tv screen, as we capture the last traces of an aerial culture. Alien isolationists. Hopeful, mythologized, boasting of various moats and spikes the impaled castle walls that are dragged down on whim, serve as a bellows to our flight-fire.

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Pale Sally

kjg72://

tool stoldt, ((the lost wives memoir.))

for graving bergat soldiers
on the verge of post-consumer
WASTE
belingering a fallen cauldron
as such manes ashame truth
behind rumor milk
so sullen
so mutton
so there! i've got cancer
you? just keep crabbing
along with a lyman
or a sweetheart in the shipping industry
we couldn't quite keep track
and now less corroboration
than could ever be boasted
she sings of a she-male
he wings on the goat
of fresh wisdom

still itching, i can't