Friday, November 4, 2011

Distraction By Proxy

When it's too late to sleep,
And the unconstrained time-frame of night--
Still, ready when you are, engaged-in-residence, slight
Repose, and the pineal kernel wakens to memento,
Treason to retire the sultan's number, fog-deep hind
:
Reckon to tango, alpha-volcano, delta-echoic,
Her ghost phased beside me while her body lives a day away--
Balking at travel, repository of your threat-blind ego,
Stoic-shrine in ditched garb from fleeing tribes, mid-massacre,
Staggered by high winds and static shock, sail failure
:
Phantom girlfriends, booby-traps, girls I've not met yet,
Gorgeous Lord, virilocality, patrilocal residence-upon-pub--
Gaily the silverly shallots transmogrified past Jewdom's castle,
The ladder and the lager, both runged, marbled; keel-deep and reaching, stately
Elms and fodder, reruns and young guns on canyon floor, desert rub
:


[distractions have progressed to Münchausen-by-proxy, with mixed results]
:
But DOCTOR, she's in AGONY! 
: roots-radicals with bitch-slap backhands and the hula dance of pink-brown kings, queefs 
back to the process, my pragmatic grands, and avoiding well you are the scorn
of capitalism's greed champions '77, '78, '79-82, 84, 88, 91, 94, 96-2002...
⎧access those dreams that were too awful to recall readily by morning one⎫
⎩even though they'll stay vivid for at least thirty years that I can attest to  ⎭
:
it's an empty cage and newspaper strewn boudoir parlor of Eastern candlewick 
burren into earth-mound-- fellated trust on one last crutch of smoking-burl bandstands
and either bed contained ecstasy and the other irony, lost on me, not from the O.C. but bunked-in by randy flatmates 




Moms Are Extinct

stretched tacos,
tack, tell;
across
turtle-
shell, rack
and sink:
frozen
factory of
floor ice;
rink skate,
tape blade,
slip foul:
hit pain,
goon-trip,
howl soon--
bad blood,
snow-cow,
owl claw:
eye-pluck,
taloned,
pronged,
portent
tine-cut,
luck out
of run--
tower
fortress--
depends whose hoops 
you wish to jump thru,
and whose race you
wish to throw loops to;
and whose version
of the truth you choose
to prelude fanfaronade ...
but after a recent bender
(a braggart front-desk clerk--)
[it is my duty to inform you--]
downtown is off-limits to night auditors
due to heavy bombardment on the payment plan tenses,
expected waits, to wit: clustered comet's smarmy glide,
ass implants and amateur lung's far-and-wide exhaled connection.

They say economy of language like a new spendthrift account
they say it is fundamental (I must be wasting words with daylight)
for defining good poetry ado ado ado ado ado poop yadda bang, zoom, 
straight to the fucking moon,

 Assumed con-           (subsumed, a neural substrate)
traints, is everyone that mimetic? nOW, gOMER sheeny
It's not a fucking equation or solvable system. 
It's power is in its puzzlement. If you can't 
accept that you should realize you're detriment 
to poetic society is worse than a dictator's 
preference for one race.  
Don't hesitate to GET the FUCK OUT. Leave before 
you have to live with me causing your dying. 
Dead dormouse dick. Get the lead out Goombah Gassius 

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