Sunday, February 15, 2015

Money an autobiography

"Where we learn we are not autonomous"

Poetry hates me
Not enough energy to get there
Faith akin to
Possible tomorrows
Space shipped for terraforms

For unconscious
Brunch on available bodies
Zombie poets‎
Erasing traces
Tastes so good

‎Goods made in the
Untrue domestication
Fan made
Twin logic

That is an allusion to
Paranoia and narcissism
Turning shit into gold
Or vice versa
Symphony of all you can eat

‎Will you take
Tentacles of Bigfoot
Wet concepts
Beneath plunge line‎
To hold and cherish

Yes I do, I am that asshole
Chopped liver
At cultural white space
At stage IV
gelatinous ‎z ero

Out of lame life
‎No bond
No lance for hire
No temporary employ
Spare me or spear me

‎Universal equivalent
Seeks Dynamo Boy
We who are that other
At sea in the vice
Grip of the thing itself

Saturday, February 7, 2015

One nation under a groove

And then there were two
The next number
Mass destruction
Finger food
Past the point of annoyance

I want a sentence
to aerate soil
Call it a Parlement of fowls
A verse to have and hold
A prelubed song
Bird to call my own

I want bite-sized
Blowback by design
If he wakes
All bets are off