A heart in itAs a hand trowel digs, softly, sprinkling, light the same old brown sands of the soils, the grains.So digs it—the careful vertical inverted "C" - Carefully trying to construct – carefully to touch it like trying to touch a wasp…Hollowed icicle bone and nerve to the thing of man, the tickling empty fingers of mandiblesWith watching fetal breath outward, tingles a shiver—of the ant of prosperity, raking toil, the movement of it on the object incisory. Things are tired and sad here, but just the same I keep on going. We were weird kids.We wait for the other person to say something and be friendly.So we just kind of stare at o
The Barn in the WaterSometimes you feel the whole world is plotting against you.There are things you think and believe—under no circumstanceCould you or would you be able to explain them.Everything else falls into (a)p(art)[lace.]In the course of thought and circumstance, All is not well with the world.A fat old barn sits at the edge of a wheel—Grayed and dull, shafty rotten boards, rotten wood with rotten weeds growing within the cracks of interminable length and jotting of rotten thoughts and the great rotten head of it all.A fat old barn sits at the edge of a wheel, it is turning.It does not look like it is moving; that is because it is t
Fingers five MassagesStagnant dropping empty: it is very cold outside, tonight.Fingertips ride the motion.The motion is my drooping parabola brain.It tells them not to…Cold fingertips move but not feel.Dead fingertips feel hollow. It is strange how one thing can collapse into another, and the next thing to polish it off into dust.It is strange how we go about our day after seeing a tragedy.Interesting thing it is, pity. Want nothing of it.As the cock crows does the crow fly.
The Sparrow and the WindowEffusive apples smell like sex and dry bones crickle into the stuff of bombs And tea biscuits taste like bones, crumbly, crickly, shifty, no good stuff. "Oi've known the ropes [crazy curls and rrrrr's] all mah life."Shanty down towns and brumble brash shady shift of the ash lands and grey tired smoke—Ok. Plumes, billows, guffaws, huffaws, gasping great reams of dense shit filtering the sky o! might it mesh the milk of mother and infuse the mold of cream covered pasture landsSweat of the mighty porous trees of concrete. Stacks of the swallowing mills blow up and away. A green old leaf smiles floating away, yes I am of an elder
The Cows Along ManKaleidoscope hot chocolate delusions - fancyeffffffffffwhite lace sifting dispositions bent North on luke warms puke to touch your lips and your mouthstaining streaks of life juice nectars one lonely time after time who are wasting their lives on portrait canvas of soft slick and silken flushed bit cheeks who frown downside down up froth and warm stick whatis wrong with the cows? oh that? they\'re fuckingoh! the fog vapors of some steam is that what it is rising off the questioning lips in illuminating dense white quillsthere are two dense blurshed figures -moo- moving -moo- towards us arewalking with the shift of machines
The Satisfaction of LonelinessProduct of a seal, error reading product number - dizzy eyes spindle in semi-circles of -we\'re not too sure what kind of shape anymore-punctuation \'Capital m\'boy, just capital.\' spindle a head around a string and pull it see how it spinslike a cyclone harp blazing across our blurred vision, (-) sleep.Reach over across the map of skin I feel the rub of thumb forefinger on my flesh of stubbly grace so pull I at the skin below my chin and it falls out of my fingers and off of my face-Thought, be careful your head does not lay down in movement infinitesimal reaches of somnambulistic wake - you stare, you stare, you stare, you stare-
Gorgeous. *favs*