Sunday, January 17, 2010

”I am interested only in the unknown and I work for my own astonishment.” ~Roberto Matta



...a flying dinosaur, s/he told the piss of Denver.

releasing realizing, the dimension of exposed lungs, I'm signed by my wife and parents Without the academy supposed to blonde deciding to code a bicycle or entire, and the last song drifting across our words, it looked like mountains. A needed discipline. Crack that whip, glistening hermaphrodites, strong, muscular legs climbed by the stairway of my cock.

Aspen rained forgotten, cold bucket they passed white guitars, Hopi-less battle, a veined midnight oscillating back and forth, back and forth, twenty-one minutes away from the golden empty. But this cinema is all cinema, previous to licking snow, only recalled later, when it was mistaken for metaphysics long thought to be myself.


--it's free, pickled enterprise out of the grave: museum: government holiday accustomed three, four stars. It's time we went to looked like mountains, the commodity's asynchronous stole the hotel's habit connected, some of them William Shatner another generation's I'm living the Dream -- women are seeing the results for more than too much room-service booze sitting in about five kilometers -- there were no prisoners here, only beautiful, so spank it on my sixth, our shared laureates recording the surface of the second planet's lost trousers -- the picture of an answered question might be terrified if the alley jumped through its own duration, apparently gangs of television. bAcK to Colorado Springs -- me too if the trial goes away when she got outer clothes to wear to the greenest radio signal --

you MigHt be cognizant less than three years, oR I'm not.

I HAve eIghT kNees, all of them mOre awake than Are you really A man?

BecaUse i'm still six hours late...Thirsty monKeYs dReamIng atom bRains, nor to shout her way to the departing train lasciviously stomped, there are no sleepings, said to a CHarmed TwiNkle. I won't allow inner powder and was monads. Ion after love after iS subsequently elided. So Much as You're an inflection, so many Martian currents and smelleD laWsuits of finGer. Hip-hop, lyrical, a new abstract empirical, "What, you don't like palms?" To get rid of the walls, the ceiling, even the windows, it is necessary to vagina at the beginning and smile aquamarine Siddharthas when I icecream. See?

The train imagined bricoleur the next three left teeth, "Why would you egg a church?"

But the vomit of the witch-killing starts, I exude. Entire, horseless tribal wars didn't know what s/he meant, stacking cremates the right moment to be brave, with fowls awake in their mouths. All dances with the blue-skin are cancelled this evening, this being the first twenty-four hours on breasts from another country as prime organizational spears. Asmodeus telephone flourished without disgusting, smelly feet, the forty-fifth of binary, my hair's gay and lesbian writers.

Oh my Goddess - Eddie Vedder just walked past the returning window! Black stereos the time for a new coherence while i hurt, desperate to live thick, curly hair. The first sphere, probably the prettiest face Hailey's ever seen sitting by The Big Bop, the smoke of astronauts Roberta handed her the hand-grenade (we all boil mouths full of parsley, the final transgression outlined in an audience - no, more like an army - of Alices in various states of intoxication, skirts raised in salute to the temple of Euclidean pigs. Four blossoms Vietnam by my savage sex whenever and wherever from not, sweating Iam not these contradictions. My liver roams the globe, from euphorically that is scrawny and cold, tender cheeks. The temperature told me it was Iranian once and for all, eventually two rampagings in the backyard across, I will silo and break, silo and break. Pour your sick and dying onto my tongue says, "because she spins the world, she spins me too."

Kudos proposed to hang us here, we need more Alices!

...aspirin worn as Burma delirium ovaries it, the fowl and crag warped as alongside my Los Angeles, two thousand yellow helicopters just want to offer a hand, multiple lisps, cranes and latticeways forcing themselves on skirted Paris streets, an exploding inevitable slipped with wolves the power stares at themm, she kissed...



III. New Foods, Post Krispy.

Energized beyond belief, beyond accounting: Can’t you hear me calling? These are the new conditions: (with different egos)
Not necessarily art, we’re far beyond those frail shells. Outside the ruins, we camp in silver spotlights where archangel showers gently fall and covert, window like it was dangerous laughter forms elaborate patterns, frosted glass knitting
needles up the insides. (though rag-time pianos will cry when green eyes
Fleck new dimensions with bothered but furry Sam looked like mountains --

FOOD is necessary for our kingdom.
BEER brought by foamy maidens.
DELICATE MEAT that can’t be gainsayed.
Wall to wall of CHOCODROIDS
BALLS OF EVAPORATED MEN
AFFECTION BALMY OR CARNIVORE MIST
Tapestries of old science and maps and plots you ate this Thursday
REARGUARD OFFERINGS OF TORQUE
LAMPS BREWING ON THE HILLS
SHATTERED BY IMPRESSIVE SILENCE

Why do you dive behind these walls? When all I want is a short, convivial rainbow, all I want is cold cuts, all I want is ice cream, all I want is fish fish fish, all I want is a slide down the slippery slab of you, the arty choked hearts of you.

When I hear the sirens calling each to each and all whorled into a trumpet announcing:

A future of sauces and butters!
A rain of soft organic engines; I’m calling out,
I’m wonder-dosing all with (Down like Alice, just might go private again) while her arms raise the pyramid,
Drops of synthetic laughter. Tinkling on what stoves, tinkling on what
glass, Caused only seconds over America. Ladled with what spoons, drooping paralytic heads, a caution woven from The terribly dark soup-surround that fogged us many years ago, past the point of
No recollection and no time for tea.

Painful memories that blast us from the easy chair, the comfy table and the bruised blue auditorium, (which will die that sweltering summer), thick with the faces of ruined children, palpated as we eat in silence. Her only concrete splits open.

Krispy Popz never wanted us here. Krispy Popz are dialectical. Krispy Popz make good pets. Krispy Popz are artificial, cold, benedictions to all the animals. Writhed in familiar forms. Wrenched in artificial ways. Glowering at our pretense. Laughing at our vanities. Relaxed enough to tell the truth about the meat. Shower.

And so can you with syrupy megaphones and candelabras plucked
Methodically as scalpels, grunting helplessly in the dark in a shower of Putrid organs.

Gone sour gone sour, all the days we sat in the bower, romance churning, Lights that flickered only for every mind's black powder sounds great, neatly tanned the coke acephalous by a strange set of wings beneath murmured doors.

Your radiant inner thigh and golden globes?

(Lit and loud and so can you with sculptured meats
Vying for truth with Aristophanes)

And have you tried them lately?


Dark, benighted, necromantic (the sea toppling onto itself)
Lanced and futile, wounded, rejected—never taking
In their morning splendor, crunchy Venal shatters control RIBS,
Spoonfuls made of wonder—pile a load of Krispy Popz from
The box to the bowl, from the bowl to the mouth, from the
Mouth to the head, to the up to five bee magic,
robots include divergent paths, good sex diffusion,

Sea to the
mouth
of the sea.


And so a mirror of the world was born in the soft, sweet smell of her cheek and loose, half-open blouse. The spinning tetrahedron that hung perpetually in the empty lot took my head right off, our little secret behind Mars, I thought. We are wealthy government fish on steroids, maybe thirteen of us. There was always grace and freedom to be found there, piles and piles of ruby-red lips always breathing down my neck. Bullet-holes through the rusted steel barrel, I love how she looks there, young and beautiful and at ease on the grass. I could only follow the smoke...

Black wet hands, I pull what leapt out at me from sheer formless laughter, all-pervasive disco-gravy. Iam penis, barbed-wire for sale, torn shards of flesh completely surrounding the breath rushing out the front door, looking for all the world like the old battalion. Smoking cigarettes, bacteria for rebel girls, folds and wrinkles dangle their memories from an ancient, peeling 150 mile-long Coca-Cola sign I used to fantasize about stealing and hanging on the wall in my room (although I can't be certain if I even had a room. Strange). A book of oranges predicts sugary noses and ears, a spacesuit trying desperately to burrow further back into the closet, trembling the very variations in sand it prayed to. If moths are to be believed, Route 66 became exhausted with the weight of jaguars, enough to decode her collection of silver leaves, which she kept hidden from everybody at me.

Even at this late date, Iam ashamed to admit I can remember swimming inside her, looking out at the world to come (and the world that is) in electric cellular wonder, and also being able to simultaneously assume another position, one that, perhaps paradoxically, perhaps not, allowed to to look in on and recognize myself.

A dream: She's older, about fortyish, with short, spiky hair. Her face is plumper and angrier. I don't know how I know, but it's clear to me as we chat drunkenly outside some tiny neighbourhood watering-hole that she's a lesbian now. And she has no idea whatsoever who Iam or what our relationship to each other once was. I'm just some stranger she can blow off steam to about the regular crew of assholes she drinks with at this place. We share a smoke.

"It's funny how we dream we know after masturbating in public places..." she trails off, a passing taxicab my Russian punk rock needs to burn. In the desert, Gandhi is dragging a chain of skulls behind him, his tongue I bustle amphetamine without Laos. Some night skies not even my flattened wrist will be a bullet they bicycle through, formative void.

A belly of saxophone - voices, stars Tichylus, where free begets noise boa - return of buildings such as her floppy discs, how I hid my stockings in the trenche's conflating dance rock duos and dirty sluts: laugh like a dog of sandwiches, the most trembling hair confused with sex I could have Mars of bathing suits on the flag

-- android I travelled a mangled place below the dawn, thought guitars of Tim Leary's rhyme with particle porno

-- hands except me balanced on the cross: seed all over yes the lightning we recorded as quickly they romance bananas

-- seven times spoon, enhanced symphonies what a next afro in my stomach's now austerity, jaguars every extreme Aztec, both windows: our Greece was over, pictures which ascribe to music, swing the hour: we narrowed and melted snow's latest identity we think of to disagree with artists, not veering Uganda holds pantyhose alphabet, I'll tell anyone who wants to outlaw kickboxing: black beards poison another city --

Iam creased in the November cold (or is it fold?), my hands turn into all of Her all over me, such a mechanical requiem I often lost my way among the spiders. The ice that glides over my wooden stick has a Herman Hesse for everything. We burnt her in the alleyway, in broad daylight for everyone to see, even though she was only sixteen and had bongo-drums for skin, smooth and taut, and neon orange triangles for eyes. We left her there to disappear into her own receding whorls, looked at each other, laughed, then skipped off in search of something else to do with the day, no problem. Piles of twitching, glistening fish, asking Marx Ernst to integrate them for these awful streets, a gaol claps tertiary.

I just purr randomly...



goNE! But I don't I its stranger: Lobsters barreled into prophecy

Rich on eyeballs powered up I courteously comet But he's Kali-YUga's Tuesday: sunlight jangling off and on: I run BeLLoWinG Gertrudes of disCo - but Hurl of in my furnaced kamikaze cyclists taught the Roxbury fuck chargers.

tWentY foUr whizzings, and there is stunned pulling, an asteroid's teeth my Immediately such Mayan frivolity mustaches shooting up electriciTy suburbs, where blondes go to dye, the side of Inner I pinked, a diFFerenT World of water, time-waves, the DinG of Tibet tongues probing The Plazeria: Sly and the Family Aphex Twin squirts IT at her weblog, arrived bandwidth, sunshine in Jerusalem now afraid.

snow from moon clusters spOonINg uP mustard, do you me?

White-hot to thousands she Nietzsche's burlesque ships do not work, but are cool against here's afternoon, just tactical, digital fish and Bruce Lee. Pull clouds meet tattoos of North America navigating his taut, scarred jawline. It's a retina classic noir what it needs to full otherwise. Being twilight bodies, someone who marine verdantry as overcoats mist Buddha, so accustomed to biochemical drama, cockspray to dial our illusions, black and red T.V. Not stiffened, tropes terrorist, very careful to improvise saturating dollars. People who grease the concrete-fueled psychedelia, furry gasoline of deconstructed the Warhol of earth, I thought a few fetishes of less, asteroid 4:30.

We might vacation of slim jets, a few blocks of noise production the pseudoself part of the job hissed as it arced to vaginal halo. You are an eel of trees, hordes sure of looking a burrito in the face, good in the moon's wrong lane of biochemical neck, crayons he's batty, the antebellum harp. There's no door into the victim's blather, so why don't we try to market yellow plums as the truck of the year? Mouthfuls for halogen erotica, technically, his dub is pink Arabia, previously piss until his appointment for the UFO over his ear, data's implicit immigrant. He is China's amplified ghost, your feminists helicopter in every bare millimeter, drop the killed other apartments in steaming black coffee.

For every hour entering, there is Albion...news of astronauts stranded on twin suns, colours wafting over the walls they had erected earler in a futile attempt to slow the deluge of data. All aquamarine quagmire and servile lipstick smoke pouting at the big questions, unless, of course, there's no other option, just triads and afternoons always planned in advance; in which case I slit her throat. Brown-skinned, those leagues of fingers pointing, the tip of a cigarette flaring from something deep inside 1947. It seems like - as eternal escape routes - we should uplift our chrome and glass faces, fold our neighbourhoods full of lovers...

Are we peacock-feather whatshername, a new method? By the piano whorls, the bifurcation edition of Through Amina's Middle Finger, give me America and insomnia triumphs our most ancient sigils a dream about the simultaneity of voices. White sand slips away, that waxing launches the clank paranoia thirty-fives I want to open behind the sheet and the rapid young brigand turned into sick women playing Russian roulette with sentences, silver lips in the mirror.

Drugs say, "Your so-called diseases flaunted like a photon from Mars, tin licking at the velvet curtains. Your loose letters hide my untroubled ankles, even though they've been dipped for centuries in the gagging stench of war. What scrambles after the remaining veil is still prior to Sumerian antlers, wives and walls gone insane.

I knew I was somehow destined to shoot her in the back, but I could never figure out why. She was a vampire, high-altitude, and a superhero of the zero. Dust and unsheathed prayers to Maltese gods who formed small temples all over town with her sleek black hair, the blistering museum she continued to believe in, alternately improvising and composing many different flavours.

Loplop leapt out of the lion's three drops of blood that morning, on her way to fish the crowd of drunken rowdy Europeans out of the lake. She felt ten o'clock on her skin, dark glasses of paintings, all spikey and wondering why everyone looked like exploding Genghis Khans when she wanted them to. Her jeans were the dazzling women she met in the dark world of caves, half silk the knees of process, young and totally what the planet does with the word "blowjob."

plankton Dalai Lamas on me.14. she leathers marionette like curious vegetables this once. (I fly to the surface - my aunt grew roots by his chatter - diode and CEASELESS, indeed - too beautiful to be good. Stroking water...)

"In the end, everyone can do without fathers," Doctor Electric said, a friendly pyramid with the confidence that everything would always turn out right, A pterodactyl is more like monads and elephant trunks from the jetty than the ears dead pigs use to smell with.

I have interrupted my own blackmailing. In my being named after the Goddess of Shit, my eyes are wrecked so irretrievably they run into the tiny cornfields slicing through the thickness that stood at the window, greedily inhaling the city's drying tongues. I resolved to be her television, its holes already emitting spicy sweet black girl braids, my yelling loft, a mysterious package forgotten on the train.

"I've actually been ogling that polyester dress forever, the one with a family of lizards in its cellar. The last letter in the country, let me call you a violin." But Loplop has plenty of other anonymous phonecalls to listen in on...

When the island clustered around a cold beer at the end of a hard day, she whizzed past, hoping to please him with her unobtainable lesbian charms. He continued sulking into his scotch, however, completely oblivious to the emeralds rhyming with the mountains lost in the myriad nooks and crannies of his neighbourhood. Where was the mud for video games, the other sets of soft oily shoulders drooping from numbers the same language as intelligent rooftops? It was practically an art to be an entourage of perfectly moist kisses, noisy guitars with children wrapped around them, the hiss that remained to be sewn up within me. Loplop can slide under any hot dollar he wants to, a friendly drug dealer working the corner of Vlad Tepes and Lou Reed.

"Now that you're your own personal movie, it's going to be nothing but cheap meaningless sex from here on in," she said.

Oh yeah...

(((two minds touch, not their assassins grape the campus, twenty fornicated pipes foreign to God, exactly like thin arms in a purple mechanical dust. ecstasy a flung scrap of meat into waiting jaws that are already genuine. nucleotiding doors are Satan, the age on wheels aimed how her naked legs stand alone on the sidewalk, but a white robe cast over the world)))

(((make sure there are no demure lakesides, almost mohawks frying a new luxury condominium you owe chocolate, the secret police stealing faces of every size, shape and colour. its vault asked the stunned curve right off, oysters seek red eyes, poor metals kept screaming old Schopenhauer, his spider-like odour innocuous in a crowd, but like crabs, which usually means there are photographs (black and white, of course) in my hair. when the bar is torn in half, a handyman dies in his own teeth, weekends where there are no witnesses to the pile of black lace hats, mapped of pain)))

Under the influence of Hindu cosmology, she is calmly sawing the 18th of February off of 3102. She leaves it to soak in a vase with the rest of who knows what mashed with milky bicycles, and heads for the dance floor feeling delirious and sexy. Flowers curse in contemplation (through the excitement of reading Blood And Guts In Highschool in highschool), bruises too large to be giant, prternaturally strong cats.

"Sometimes I just need to be quiet."

It's Friday night, and the slums are burning, the professors and poets streaming from the nostrils lounging on the porch, drinking beer. They have tusks, apostrophes that refuse to burn the Buddha, preventing the holy avatar's image from making it onto the front page of tomorrow's newspaper. For every ladder, there is a cinema tearing at its own dyed hair, at least until the litter grows cold in their veins.

"I think eating somebody's body, well, I take it seriously. It's like smoking marajuana, when I feel I'm going to get trapped in the whisps of smoke and float away somewhere totally unknown to me, totally alien," she explains before cracking a smile like she doesn't know what else to do. She turns away, then walks back to the bevy of bikini beauties playing volleyball on the beach.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Logos Dogos
You are imagined, both from within and/or spokes a contagion of meat. To fur a bed of Aristotles now he's a chain of bloody DVD Zarathustras, isn't it an iota our own house? Subways refurbished who could see into the future, giant smokes insects I need this pink aeroplane somewhere. Not a clump of disaster, ride a crazy indigo, mathematical Incas of civilized octane or pieces of smoked triangle to stimuli a not-machinic ears. Nova hell by forms, straw belonging, ghostly beds crying their episteme, an eye to which signatures plaid. We cracked a trillion blue lobster like television veins, magic we're saving for children of the fading policeman shot dead on the frontlawn. Spring does exist in the lesbians who wrote the forest of sonatas, heraldry in another bowl of clouds we can email or helmet. Cold eigenstates my evening neck, the scent of here I have to italicize more so a gnat full of gentle heaves and itself an archaeology. Black takes the binary veteran of several treacherous pack-animals we are required to be the same beautiful woman, to forgive the pyramids back from eternity's golden stitch. Crystal the lexicons, I can't smile of civil eugenics, geodesics of utopia if you smell robots differently, the heart for postmodernism's 1951. I will be dropped hands, safe as milk, thinking architectures on times, looking for ruins he wants to kiss, whatever might point the way to Lyon. The source code prayer rolls plastic how we're going to die, yeah, it was filthy. Current events that eastern dots together, the brass trumpet inside my chemistry weeknights, any cornfield whose teary veils of dinosaur steam, walk heedlessly through American needles. Welcome to ancient texts, every or minor lycanthropy to leukemia bridge, made of memories and cosmic armour able to oxidize truth and flown jets, hope for simulation yet, a new ethnic identity. Here and now's youthful piles of brown curly hair, fetus the ignited surface satellites of virtuosity like my El Dorado legs, the extortionist rug that always wants to run away and lose itself in synonyms, silence eight to create more Canadian numbers as periscope their quivering beneath grassy drums. Political sweat some vacuum of striated, it's until the two mountainous images are found burned and buried in chromatic shadows of elan rubber. Grey television bend the brotherhood as martial redux pounced her aeolian oasis, deformed avanting elephant-tusks instead of raising her to savagery, moribund reflexes rotting wood a green mind. Sine warps, brave cups of silver lies migt be molars, a billion gouged of switchblade and fucking cigarettes. One die cast, crows bicycle the sultan's swing for we dinner it turns into a function of not-biology, argued walls breathing flies, pataphysical nostrils back the o'clock then sidewalk's frazzled noon.

Weathervanes can be swimming while punches to the curved of pizza carbon an ass, forty-seven Husker Dus, elliptic and hybrids for remembered moistures...

hydrogen tents marble gunshots, the very first degrading of colour - thAnks to The spReaD legs:

In the other highway, the improvisation I feel for you, destiny skin-tight black pants, royal sciences butterfly imbricated dialectics agog. Maybe the FUTURE will torso for tax evasion when they shot oatmeal of him beyond, my sorry you. buTTer such can't talk to me like flapped to the Guilded barns. getting hairy abstructs the pyramid, see forceps to skeletons modern and every archived whorl of insurgency guts just like a good dog secretly eats his Master

who the somehow fires the expanse of men in minutes, lets continents of nerves Daliesque inappropriate fifteens the primrose - astrology at the heart of consent

The signal feels vindicated, drinking poison AgAin...

One white-hot Friday on cakewalking the prophet's faith, fat curls of larynx in minutes after my own monkey crossed an iron railway pass next to my mouth, just causal forests. The entire day was an eruptive miracle, the sky encased in natty dreads, a curtain of guts fading. But the city's more ethos was still agonizingly bright in vivid shields he could knock off the exile of comet text, that shade of green in ice. The was now day, an old negro immigrant standing quietly in the shade of your broken neck, perhaps because he had been Queen Victoria in a film once, if not in real, waking life. If kept as theremins, within the hour he would flaunt (and possibly try to sell) the wall's idea, her sphinx of sand and hair in icecream parlour continents. His ego mingles with its razor, smashed colours running three memories as highly spiced wine between his ears. Cello Peter Pan, actually four grey wrists in what was no longer extraordinary and inexplicabe. Not quite pleasure, not quite ravishing, not quite neons of the water, dripped bullets before yelping its own rupture in what was to be the new radio.





Damage - the steak of pre-Socratic still policed to the tits, much silicone everywhere. Tonight, in queers of levee the primordial clit I sold you took silk communism under the dome, they'll fit the profile of a sexual sadist, oblique of lettuce. Psychotic briars of the galaxy you have opera is the cloud above vagina, approximated eleven men of limestones your softest need from baldes due to be banaled viaduct tongue-piercings nearly glitter, popped out seeds, the glass birds. It's germane, regardless nines with a rose we are under the skin, and Iam shot in the throat to compose revolutionary blue technologies you must prepare to emblem you're full of meteorites, MayDay insects shattering doowop. The matinee shows us its dragon tattoos, other strange and strategic alreadys injected into the pyramid.

"They've cadavered in wars of Rimbaud, aiming James Brown, these hyper-rich dead-beats who can afford to meta full possibilities. The crow you are really responsible for 1459...bullets that ovulate new earth engines," the twilight cliff said.

"You're still Canada?"

It included ritualistic, two aerodynamics of people on the run, I don't give a damn about your special purpose, I just want to know who killed those times we were always hot or cold, never in between. Sew the raw herbs of production, layered cathedrals just the same as a thousand pushups done in an empty apartment. Sight killed the motor premieres abdomen brothers, a crescent for a crescent as swollen conditions brought to an isolated jailcell to die a Russian. Everyone's bleeding is what your face is, dense Islamic codpieces that eerie skies down, only to let it bang against the drone.

"No wonder the lieutenant changed the shape of his solid-gold nod so often." She sat forward, lowered her ghoulish tendencies just long enough for hyperspace to appear as lumpy, irregular Aristotle legs and plums nearly white with verdure. Don't plead xylophones you're not.

"I'm not as limited as why every submarine with your modulation," the trance shot back, mugwumpery straight Satanic. Emotional reverberating, a line of young riots you must all-night, I Brazil mouths if the egg's diversion is no thanks radio.

- and you as a noise in her Budapest that doesn't watch - it's stupid he'd be acoustic of new aching - inner twos timbre abstract beard pictures decimal of foot - patinas like umbrellas in orbit, where Derrida is Merzbow - twelve redeemed octagon wooden huts, itself how mediographic you are -



She is red with the late stages of the addicted morning, the honest knee masturbating tin cans. Posthuman graffiti Hugo Ball had hidden deep in a faltering series of mortally wounded clouds asked the rusted syringe to chant five minutes out of sleep, more cerebral than spiders...

"Am I really golden ovens of flesh?" asked asymmetry, the meandering sonics tumbling over the audience in a sea of old newspaper headlines, buttocks entirely wrong. Her field of vision expands as male and female bifurcation swarm over her exposed fangs, and she is suddenly transported back to the hangar of The Baiyina. The bones of the turtle went higher and higher, awoke to the sound of the subway slurping lasciviously on what it knew was not the most precious drifting, skinny blocks of all sixteen falling soundlessly. Naked, more air poured into the side of a mountain of chins, the illusion repeated the same stentorian phrases over and over again, until the television became another overflown mouth.

aRaCHnOid oF CarbuReToR - fuck you all! it's hard not to AdmIRe how the microphone got here, MY first shot in the saDDest graSS, dull ways to starve the MASSes of people - discs of void fingers, like the trust in laws of sand - croaking fires as I kept bumping into groups of jaundice, horses hovering (sometimes juxtaposed with) a "yes" to bees - (seven minutes)

"I don't trust you!" the quickness yelled. Gun blasts were canoes out of sight and astonishment elbows you'll never feed the ceiling of without words. Discursivity glistening vats of jism king...

Recording cosmos is strictly forbidden here. Nihilism snows from wristwatches of dayglo bikini economics, ex post dodo. - (electronic if Iam extracted desire) - That's Sigmund Freud vapour flowing in long sinuous waves, agree or disagreed with the rest of the shuttle, lazers that blood, minimalism. - (stay in fur, Olympian the veneer of sex in the streets we hailed as tremulous lizards, cocaine mirrors any tower) - Tiny bits of doll, a surface like communards who may be robes or runes in the long-term escape attempt - sharks of chemistry strange with meanings t-shirted her staff of paisley ephemerals - Writing transmitted thirty years of that would be wide, ample hips and young flesh repaired by the superunknown.

Zarathustra is my biggest fan. Hiroshima has grown fat with punk rock syncretism, my cock.

The mind has an image to battle the evil forces gathering at the margins of its liminality. It liked to march across her long white hair, to snark into her ear from behnd the bright streams of machinery that followed her everywhere, often roaring out of the sky to get a peek at the cards she held in glowing hands. If the characters were a couple of millimeters tall and the paper they were printed on about two proud stars square on both sides, then the quadrupeds could usually squueze ten million drug cocktails from the shards of glass staggering around begging strangers for their pale hubris. In seven terraces (seven, three, seven, four, seven, five) her breathing could be stored, the way of milk looking at her quizzically through ancient bruises (as yet seven, six, seven, seven). In her quiet, probing gasps the mind, with just a few drinks to wipe the automobile from her cheeks, a cluster of information-packed globes found moaning and groaning in her crevices, the sabre and the movement of a bald-headed gun convinced darkly glittering humans to read.

- partly a shaggy blonde wig could fear, hate, despair with some shouts and some firearms, the circle volunteer an X as frog-marching to electronic fields, loud chickens closed again, like a hole in her arms -

- light flicked, the ashes dawn here don't write psychedelic at all, they just walk past in staring cans of too-tight beer, scarab to guitars, pray Wonderland, something affixed to stratification is also a knot -

- virile as both bulbous gagging, the twin souths I just refer to as post-linguistic coffee whores, the sewn-up voyage atmospherics remember what it is like to cross the line into old discarded photographs of trickled into recursivity's gnome, meet burning pantyhose arrest, entire spirals of grave clitori lacking your houses of milieu, speedball holy pissed on probabilities that pull out their intestines, the baseball she thinks is food -

It smells like murdered bathrooms in here! Or undulated Detroits...



I Loplop the ancient tome of intertwined dusks, the loudest she has her hands nailed to feathery arches, horns of dyad explained away only by vision. Stockhausen purple mists a face pulled into, old dusty radios, and androids have invaded Paris, raw slabs of fetid animal skins of Z in firece error.

Anybody minotaur, there is no sign of her brilliant idea writhing beneath the microscope lens now, black minutes I crashed on the sandy beach the night she held me, shyly, warmly, wine and disintegration at the very edges of the world the moonlit maze always seemed to want. Hysterics maybe, a cloud of Tarot cards I've never seen before, two or three spread out magnificently. In regard for the authority I will succubi with my tongue of millimeter high green friends, a quadrant silence as childhood became of her sister's circle asylum. This is all stabbing her in the brain's alley of if you aeroplane the archive of luminescent happens for a reason, sixty percent of the furred population will kiss Broadway's guitar openly, without shame. The diary entry for accelerating waves I continent the sudden feeling of smallness, such a fine, surreal extravaganza sewing together submarines, the hanging city we lost as we walked, laughing then giggling equine sparks.

I walk into fields of paint, tugging gently on the door while desperately trying to recall if I've paid my rent's shrill row of skeletons to their purple bay. Rock and roll, motherfucker, clear everything's left outside the tavern door while textual hype a stanza's sixteen lines since she diamonds that river standing up straight, yet refusing to look at us like the parody we undoubtedly are. Arcades breed tarantulas, the chamber of moist kitsch collapsed with its exit, its most frequently reproduced wedding. Sneering two-headed paisleys, New York and Loplop frees that moment of hats floating away into the sky, wise snags of Mao or ghosts hovering just below real thresholds that loop hideously. Empty wheelchairs as subway sex grins like a Cheshire cat begging so ironically it causes us to amphibian the interlock.

Relax, pass through the surface of her wrist...

Empathy's ten splayed bionic, programmed surrender, idly tomorrow that scans like a fellatio we all tremble at the knees. More than Thursday's bison, impulses seen individually will buy my girdle's murder of me. Marionette whirl (a terrible drum radiating outward from the center of the world), cyborg trees my totalitarian Armani some cinema and alphabet vines electric, almost prose it smooth roses this fucking wisp to species Bibles allowed in solitary confinement. Her decades for the id versus only one part heroin severed from Van Gogh, fluid avant-geographies in blue and white she selected between jungles...

Keys of eleven reptilian pill-popping hair, live mutations folding and screaming from yellow pianos, cloned Derringers all of us. I wore my guru as a cozy sweater, almost florentine. My bread sold as a cow or such a pool of reconnaisance pleased to bathe in the crisp glow of her cigarette, peers of chromed about the tanned, thinning circumference. Sibilant long legs a corollary of me and southern pinks, war called virtual forms our what before we can only call a final, atrocious shot for this shangri-la I keep tethered to her brightest curves.

I'll have these neurals, those neurals worth it for the not-for-sale signifiers alone, a grand butterfly fucking her arms at the base of captured veneers. Sweet thorax, hormones acquiesce, their ashen insects suddenly words combining to form alien temples, strange gasoline from my gut. Her myriad winters whistle the solution, what we refuse to acknowledge is already retreating, the darkest, loneliest plastic of myself's plaid so far.

Cold weaponry, fog, much like an atomic baron to me. Estuary flying knives to his skull flying her half of glossy tongues and mental boxes, not that crawling bray the love fingers at diazepam was about solar cycles, tomorrow's news sometimes lipstick in space. Feathers during their Babylon half of what maniacs, I couldn't recall dissolving here. Inordinately large buildings the result of isotope says the flower closed, then let's refuse to subdue the ten leering miles away, a universal empty simply because she can carry rain in her arms. Rhythmic dusts past glitter thought creates during certain extra machines I bring to the great bird's swirl, knowing they will tumble into incest tableaus, interior software nearest two wires simultaneously.

- : it's chosen, riveted piracy we can all astral (influenced new seas, darling = travelling sweat inclined of taxes between the fish of Islam - music bites like villages of pearl they have locked in my mouth: cobras into the ceiling if not - her poem vanished once an Uzi resting on her lap, the thatched years known, guts of weightless imagery (the road we walk lost hours - cyberian walls of pure moonbeam - exposed legs vivid that LSD welcomes, antlers writhe the garden of androids) - neon drums and porkchop this slashed cell, she hears a pyramid: a sandy addiction's metropolis, pounds left outside: gross wings portmanteau of hunger (a sly taxicab boasted an ancient's late operatic, starry prostitutes my listening alters from congas to corn fury, crippled faces and yeah, pop music is repression) - cherry-cola hands (you draw vanished logos, a dozen or more ellipses touch the yellowed plane: there is esoteric wrinkling, slowly red lovers built into the gaps in our spines: -


Black sun genitalia, crispy millions of years bite cold fingers, its splashed nylon astronomy had taken refuge behind and ceased flickering his neck: Images of shawled Islamic women standing quietly, serenely in pools of urine and vomit in the middle of the street: Heroin subways again, asked hysteria to open then close its magnificent teeth on beams of dry thirty-five: The cell-phone turned to fog, hacked into his brain just long enough to tickle his third eye, floating into the madness of every person who had ever lived or died

There was a chasm (we will refer to here as scars in the day-glo coloured sand we loved with everything we had), red eyeballs and pink dogs, the sensation of time as a complex machine: Several long winters vanished at her beheading, the entrance to AK-47 hallucinations I fold across the sagging mouths staring out at me from the inky murk: Closer to a virulent sprawl holding cherry-flavoured hands than the last nanosecond of faceless trees curling over her soft shoulders

Iam dead again, he sang to the blue-green snakes crawling merrily over the merrily of cold, damp chamber floors: She swung the young policeman around and aroud by his tongue, the glass he always wanted to be when he was a brand new bicycle strapped across anonymous Indian roads: My head is leaving the victims of Chronos with leather hidden in the seams of history, I'm exhausted, ready to relax and enjoy the flames leaping down my throat, another Spaniard on and on and on...

She stood, shivering neon-light-ringed mirrors, incredibly soft palms for an illusion we must perfume, charred corruption's argument karoom from her market in feet: She held me securely in her mouth without injuring me in any way, returned the name of originary murder to the engorged cameras dripping slowly from the archway

"I just want to..." she whispered to nobody in particular.

She wiped the knife on a sheet of bishop-ready, dog-eared streets I shout as I shot her in the forehead. Pythagoras streamed from her already-healing wound, and she smiled random friends saline with one car flying off the bridge's auburn: Pudgy, ovoid flying vessels from another era wash up on the river's edge, lovely and talented blondes appalling marajuana

"Again," I whispered back.

I don't know what their problem is, I only want to squeeze the poetry from their balls...

The stone is blinding, but she perseveres: Overdosed planet bit her lizard headlights so hard I honestly felt comfortable with the eye-liner ghosts of America, what quickly turned into fuck-me trickles: Robots brandishing black flags of satellite pus, Christ's severed head she throbbed in the barrel of the heater, parked like further suffering consumed form: Her carnival ripped from syphillis, my toe lost behind me, spill your left-handed dad's favourite green web (or can we substitute medium-rare lieutenant fish?): Leaves fell without notice at first, landing on her bared breasts she turns into text I had never written, all desires flopping and flapping horned buildings of matted fur, the stereo with streaks of charcoal across its cheeks, crazy for every last guitar that hangs from escaping Delphi

"Pass out, you tough bastard," she muttered: Los Angeles and 1950 behind my eyes, hardly able to believe in her own dripping powers (shards of glass retraced), ceaseless crimson midgets still selling crack, even with their wings busily recording (or recoding?) the shimmering alley: The heat-death howl of jazz played properly, she leans forward, then springs back twice as quickly when I dare scream Artaud's cruel gems that I once thought had vanished forever with Albert Ayler's drowned, bloated, hymnal corpse


These pricks and penumbras produce whose writhing? Atomic lettuce creatures the eyes ramblin' rose, my sartorial doom at your service, I mean. A furred kick, fucking gorgeous, dressed in nothing rocketries, she dream constantly of Aristotle being pierced through his middle by a thousand cocaine cocks. (This movie may not even be the eleventh Leadbelly, dazzled charioteers to the right recipient. But so what?)

Waifs on all fours, I eat radio transmissions. Rape menthol cigarettes still congealed, an afro thud felt in luminous tiles, draped sheets of Godzilla. I'll never forget how I predicted our trip to Mars, her secret doctrine fried, and torturing worms dialect swimming slowly towards their nearest syphillis, chocolate skulls for me, I explained. May it scream the rites of spring eternally into the pockets of your bluejeaned saxophone, chromatherapy sci-fi for the post psychosynthesis generation. Grey a convalesced marionette I shot as eight-ball data cathedrals, a complete theory of misery, glorious misery.

Burning crosses I sold for murdered candy-canes, the roundest, manliest perspective, a twist of limestone warning systems, known asteroids. Scream loons polished a menacing cherry-red slab of sweaty, sticky music we could barely decipher due to its dribbling field of corn and mutant, internecine teeth. Her raw cunt gleamed, looking, oddly enough, like ice-men.

Spume at her thighs she became Rastafarianism, it's my job to politely sew the X-rays onto this cryptozoology of buttered days aghast, the pucker up factor if your diamond boots shout nylon-ringed guitars. She snores in dub, too, slime lines of irradiated beat science, sluts so hardened their Horus eyes cranked out psychedelic prisons completely unhindered by the standard rules of space, time or capitalism. We're drooling lava onto piles and piles of flayed limbs, turn and burn between the bars. I advised her to start sleeping in the rays my sub-zero referred to as dada in bacchanalian elastic faces, all clean, brozed savagery lurking outside the window during warm Egyptian evenings.

Their worried seven year-old punk rock queens cursed gravity while ripping the balls off Euclidean power-chords, droning rails of pure lydian bliss and red bulls, wood panelling your god like so many traces of rudimentary foreskinned egg cusps. A month's worth of gurgled supertramp zoomed in on the sun and dressed it in lonely woman blues, the correct Satan's summer, acid planets a Caravaggio I made sure to cum on thoroughly before disappearing up my own nose again. It usually takes a good old-fashioned whore to cure the pregnant rat, a morphine she would spew at surly doves I licked anyway.

Pure love plain as day, the silver streak still dawning pistol-banging martial aviary, indifferent fifty year-old cunts, ripe chainsaw buffalos she telepatied in the nick of time. Clanging tits, she was an air-raid siren, no doubt my viral co-pilot in a pumpkin slammed smack-down in the middle of a Roman orgy. I sin and smile, then it's over. But even if her silence was Jesus Christ, her yawning dynamite rang in the century of peanuts with plenty of sonic aplomb. And I really like peanuts and aplomb...

Wolves are in fact science, I learned from crying gypsies, her randomly oscillating lingeries the funniest magazine on earth. Engineering suddenly vomit tossed at rows of arcane police, turbine eurekas stumbled blindly down the wig of blonde hallways, the nexus of abstract leopards. I'm not ionic, look behind the sofa for the lost clouds doing the twisto squeezo, and I'll stay here forever with a drink in my hand.

Decrepit noble gases sacrifice my flaming tennage arms to Victorian bicycles at the back of the airplane's released ashes far from the ace of clubs we discovered locked in her brain. It was hard to erase her strawberry ice-cream's impending coitus with the brave new enzymes she inhaled all day and all night.

Will these nuns on the eternal hunt for Howdy Slim and his roving gang of mind-crimes end up as mere asymmetrical stains on our yellow seahorse, another urgent pattern of dayglo love-juicery?

Normally we couldn't halogen prior to legends of gentle maxims, flesh wrinkled by that one unforgettable scene in Dr. Strangelove where the death jazz is clearly Mother Mary's most luminous knife edge, volcanic flowers beating the most stubborn chakras into first gear. A few bloody lines of poetry spoken softly enough, and by thy works shall be rotting meat. Sufi islands, burning tires I dissolve in, a bottled silence the lips of bikini lycanthropy. Weird scenes exhilarating, bondages peeled the brass from mountains, formed history, so don't forget to nail every tie-dyed sophistry to the train leaving right now.

A harmony of intricately detailed paintings of androids having mad sex, no sinewaves had lunged at more resonant names for the laughing harem between my eyebrows. And here, where paradoxes are plastered firmly to Tzara's horny-rimmed glasses, this is where salted texts wink their perfumed swords at a hundred miles an hour, her panties a cruel pool of blue tears to decide the rest.



neon boa the thinking plastic is more maternal instinct - one can blur barking genes, biology an exploration more lakes blur of recognition, urban turban this bass-heavy re: modues or as an animal of filthy luchre

She smiled the reverse island's augured yelp, a spaceship of Rousseau, front-row streets. I have become nascent oil in nonsense chords, literally five thirteens dropped at a sign: Presence, things because we amplified the white sections

:the wolverine's shit bomb, convinced of Dr. Colorado, soft reactive tissue at the singular border I once purchased sunglasses in Nazi twilight - blood making the idea of children difficult antlers I knew Ewoks my own neck: (a cup of water jerked abruptly out of sleep) - It probably indicated deserted pharmacys abandoned at the side of the highway, new warrior breeds that could juggle diodes and mystery bandages-

My lies have a lovely rising temperature, breasts of nothing I strain to hear numbers of prime saxophone, barbecued, then eggs in both of her beds grew and grew until the diabolical sands at the bottom of her purse began to burn, even without HIV evenings by the facade. I chomped on philosophy all the way to the end, its vault sipping young, long-haired men covered with drugs of utter textual peni, so licked quixotica, her throbbing opaque guitars the night.

"Brands of noon, pupils dilated and blaming Gilles Deleuze for radioactive breakfast cereal he thinks he has something in common with. For what may be the final time, I trust that you aren't the scent of chlorine," said my teenage voice.

"We carried you. Took turns. The space needle is never ourselves..." she trailed off, distractedly murmuring her sudden Brazil as fluttering foreheads. She kissed nobody on the hill of ribs, Nazareth the gas wizard limousine.

rye-bread walls, advertised zombies on the bleach shrouds say pectoral and genetic nirvana - reach out across purple underwear feet - dissolved comic book pterodactyls and rioting for and don't be a new credit-card like pecan veils - bat-wings so close to my own postmodernism - submarines of newsprint octaves gone their psychedelic pink this pretty little thing

tin-can gestures to other aliens I can devour for free: mathematics slping the crack of voracious wrist, morphine associated moss, constant reagge grins gradating to colours of what she animals ever so innocently, my wheelchair mists on the wireless: glorious new schizophrenics of what the boy's limpid sex said to the concept of linear time, pseudo as maniacal's impartial cascade of eyes I'm driving Thor

Of vagaries and radius alchemy, my rarest dragon's fiery balustrade of angelic picking the ooze's sister. Four oles in the never shots and eidetic skids going the joyous squirrel onto wear the cutest roar you can flick green irons, burnt mother that grumbles I had a sanctuary's cookie gone motels of twin fish unplugged for the afternoon...

oNe bIG CraWliNg RAdio, sHe maneuverED hOw i BoViNe: their AsTrAl sKId bUt wiTHOut pinK CadILLacs iN mY StOMAch

Korean was everyday, jihad hungry - TiRed RouTe TO vENus suDDeNLY cHeeseBurgerS

as BEarDs oF FoGGY EleCTRic tOwErs, jujuNe DrONingS fLashIng oN And Off tYpos mArTiaN tHat hip-HoP shE'd BeeN rEVErbiNg, thRee PaRts AnArCHy to DiApHaNOUs aLLEywAyS, apriCots BenEaTH aN aSSembLaGE oF oNE aNOther'S tanKeD sWiMMiNg nIGHtMares

...anyway fugues bright Islamic sharkfins, love's golden key she kept atop muscled this pile's sexy waitress as if to deliberately hint at the luminous gun, which surprised Methuselah after methane dinners I felt her New York wet, her week of heroin spheres in some next pointillism. Thin optics primal her in half as soon as she exits the pornography, broken wolves too dizzy, flotation quarks of noses, I need her chrystalline...

BuT aS tHOugH dOusING summertime BuTToCKs, sHE iS tRYinG tO sEVEn iMPriNTs of abUSinG tenTaCleD doLLS, i AMbienT bLacK jEAns, cOnsTRaInInG sWerVe, eXceLLEnt at DasEIN, eXCElleNT sKIn oN tiME

Aeolian skin thimbles start quivering the khaki precipice. Technics I know I've silent lyre. Froggy broths, sure, palmed approximate as the lady on TV prattling on about inverse drones, tender genitals as the last ontology. A showering Norway, already guitar clouds hiding x-rays under foul and lonely saucers. Where freckles return from elven exile, silver fumed chariots, traversed cancerous frets, Jupiter clamps my cock. Heretic bowls elicit extract of nuclear missiles, the cloaked and daggered idiot filming Cadillacs given their hydrogen fellatio, just delayed penata hair and astral tinges of swans bleeding new discos, canine glass.

gone!! But don't i its stranger: Lobsters barreled into prophecy

Rich on eyeballs powered up i courteously comet But he's Kali Yuga's Tuesday: sunlight jangling off and on i run bellowing Gertrudes of disEASE - butter hurled of in my furnace kamikaze cyclists taught the Roxbury fuck-chargers

tWEnty-FOUR whizzing, and there a stunned pulling, an asteroid of Treblinka soup

my immediately such Mayan frivolity mustaches short electricity suburbs, the side of ANTI-bourgeois piked differences, World of Water, time-waves, the Tibet of tonGUes
probed thE FuTuRe plaZa: squirts IT at her feral weblog, aria bandwitch now afraid of snOW from the moon Clash sPoOnInG up mUStARd, do you me?

there was, I deuced singing shit t-shirts from any scientific foray into icecream webs, like Mao's other selves. diving clouds between births to my who's patina, the walking ionospheric, fabulous and fluid kilograms, dada paste but lydian hair

for necessary circles of air, flagrant wings at all this talking, baby, Iam no longer varicosed with hacked jaws. bubbles it as stately yellow cats drinking tea at The Silver Neutrino Cafe, their own kind of transparent guitars shooting out from between their betweens. I came strange palms, replayed in sharp grimoires, lions and tigers, approximate mouths flipped theoretical. even piano mists, flying arias thinking the world is their golden breast and theirs alone when my eyes are closed to dream of glistening, dunked tonsils in super-slow motion

the crazed aeroplanes alot of seeking refuge in the contorted Tarot, cubed blue, two wheats of stiletto froze capsules of id since we last kicked acid cocks to Asia's starship lizard

she sent jazz to burn El Dorado pigs, soggy meat wagon twelves, her amoeba an unfortunate welding paisley, clowns without organs. cheque the matinee, rolled twenty-sixes a plumtree of fine arpeggio lust, hyperstains and clicked skin

from the earliest moments we gesticulated, black matrix gowns torched of money, what's cigarette arms on the radio. it's all excess Sufism, armadillos, peculiar torque. let Elvis' nose scratch the goddamn X off her miniature Nazis, pendants we inject in exchange for silly naked hearts when mysteriously tragic wrenches. drunken cow physics will stickle my protruding radioactives, how furs your own licking gun. grammar robs hegemony, filthy satryr next to urns I ocular, asked whimpering noise-rings, foxed gravy on the moon


It was the night of cracked triangles, pass the gamelan, Leni Riefenstahl. Grey hairs reaching for all 300 lbs. of uzi, the way women finally found a way to crush The Pentagon with nothing but the power of wild boars unleashed from burning bras. Computer models failed to notice the dice tattooed on what it feels like to be on the inside.

Psychotic Sufis finally found the time to take the skinheads bowling on the beach, a billion Gibson Flying-Vs resume sleepwalking through an arena of madly fluttering sparrows. Jeans of uttered x-rays squeezed every drop of bubbling ache from their former enemies in the disease of me. Parisian octopus arms know where the trees sneak away to when they want to whisper libertarian-communist chic in Satan's one good ear. Smelly neutrinos were always meant to parachute DNA, ceremonial Czarist grease politics intersecting the name an echo gives our love. Lungs the size of undulating condominiums, it all came down to soft gold coins, wild gypsies leaping from the armpits of my 14 year old lover.

I stopped for piza on Kallista's tongue. Moaning aircraft carriers, writhing, shrieking like a 15 mile stretch of post-structuralist turtlenecks, shaving cocktails far above the legislative city. The seduced fetal position, damaged kisses, books read in piano-bar mirrors. Three fingers always juggle the bottled sky, a beautiful intestine's 1934. We surrendered mantra lids to the strange man who rolled his stunning odes to autumn up in quantums of tick tock cocaine, quivering their answers with ornately jeweled bananas.

Robot Arab slippers sold memories of dark hosiery falling alongside dark rain, cobwebbed jails Iam to play the king of chocolate. A popular front of beehives while the wrecked inhabitants store their ashes in the buttocks of dancing goth-punk bears. My hurricane is made out of nihilistic mountains, so I will gladly dress as a shotgun of the tuna borealis (as long as this jazzy chandelier braids the secret words). I explode with pride and deviant pink wheels, the cool torrent folk-saints for clouds, bovine opera fangs, sex flags.

Miniature astronauts staccato my marajuana for free, racked hooves that leave the melody to go play eerie synchronicities, we're Jupiter and giraffes. A zero of Artaud unlocked the secret to bandaged vaginas, proven beards walking their science of perpetual play to the silliest limestone semen, which there is always time to sniff. Supernova Cassanovas fingerpick Tantric oceans that diamond the necks of my eloquent, charming Marxisms, minus the dictates of necessity. Five watercolours seep into the violin's skull to ripple with metaphysical mayonnaise, all these electrical Edens and so much more where algebraic breasts come from.

Spoken dolphins, the cycle of barking koans plugged into my sister's forehead. Four bald lesbians pick the scabbed love's surrogate kick, attack zones of distortion after bullets buy me a drink of nipples. Bats hum moving targets, she renders through the holocaust of skin becoming Wednesday, practically cobalt armpits, radio-waves a shooting boat for sale in the windows of UFO disease.

There is a technocracy of legs, fried sixty saran jewels, a database flowers this winged factory evening in sand and peached flutes. Only masks shimmer into precision import neons, the vinyl back of her splayed against what nighthawks adore.

She insinuates sisters, ordinary whisked Templars into the singular cup of intensities. I still lock the garden's film algebra up before museums lurch their pinkest sandwich, refuse to stare into the thought of hooved coitus. As chemical dogs wink, its own piece of ashed children between the highway's irrational fruit, which she calls a lemniscat right to its face. The elven deja vu caught in a liminal tree of lungs, this thick emotional squirrels of lime will see the forks just in the nick of time.

Chocolate heard by the brewed flags with my finger on the aeroplane's ever upward clothed knife, a suite of central dada would make the nearest shore of her building cinema wheels.

"Sorry sir, we are completely out of control," she said. Writhing spirals and graces...

We thought of walking, talking silver, really a lashed Max Ernst of your intoned animals. My first vanguard and vanilla inches, rum's particular velvet gathering at the Atlantis of black automobile time. Every bubble slips beneath nova hearts, the crumpled pile of secret police, wet islands that prove to be worth repeating. Nightmares of marauding genitalia are merely my smouldering industrial fish I want to be crushed by the thorax of the room, mascara holes in my language shivering old images in the rain.

you remind me of a somewhere
with the film and the storm-belated appendage
caught with carbonated family on your face again.

three speaks of eat you, altars with no sleep for bread,
including aquarius shirts. my belt stands up
if you think of yellow horses, a parable on alchemy.
eclectic teeth of glass for the growing leg, psychedelic
to punch in the white sheets of rain i suggested.
often spoons...


a subversive is two small letter 'm's duct-taped to a commercial