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mother ships of the mooncatastrophized ...
there's somebody else on the moon
and tasting skin in batches
and saving all they've learned until
the mother ship returns
but it's been heard
she's involved with superstitions
that she's wandered off to find religion
a devil daughter turned
so loose your lips
and let it slip -
there's somebody else on the moon
cache of hornetsit's the interstice that always kills ...
(no emphasis on keeping clean)
and it's a bad, bad night
who stalk jurassic scenes
while below our glowing
nuc a grist
of wasps have balled to death the queen
... roiling in their honey-coated
omnivores wet dream
pilomotor reflexeswe'll soon be drugged
and shoved into the habit-
able zone of constellations
ushered slow along
by senescence' soothing siren song
and we can not escape [it]
they came in through the window, baked
and caked in week-old blood
hyperbolic remnants of the flood
we offered all we had on hand
but it was not enough
to sate their endless appetites
it wasn't even close
now muscle memory must move
through this impotent farrago
where we pilot all our awkward limbs
with the backside of a shovel
pororocathere's phenomenon in the river
tendrils ... in our pinking panacea
spawned from the midnight paregoric
they've come to put edge to the wind
corrupted by cardinal numbers
so we're following the hierophant
through duck soup shadows of the moon
and no sanctuary sanctioned
(there are still some
phenomenon in the river)
backwards for an instance
the transmigration of soulsnucleic sharks smell fresh blood
in the western gene pools
and on the other side of the world --
an elephant runs a man through
metempsychosisensconced in the exigent
wind grown at midnight
vituperative pulling/cosmic strings for a thrill
we were raised by a boulder
to be sedulous soldiers
and only attack when well hidden uphill
a polarized low has stirred the cattle
so just get on with the evolve so we
can arrange a proper battle
else orphic gaols may halt our sails
slack water vicious circles
where most still have their tails and drag
almighty swollen knuckles
pulling cosmic stringstrapped in the solution pit
when i can't sleep i teach
myself to write in the dark
co-mingling energy with
and things that some call god
savages at twilighthands in the hive
either get stung or stuck
in honey that tempts
and by stingers infected
with odd shades of love and lust
while those with strange minds hug the borders
breeding their own kinds of trust
that keep themselves warm
through spontaneous combustion
and we all disappear for an instant
when our eyes must adjust to the dark
lost in the ebb
of time on its edges
disparate non-corporeal dust
the twilight constructa rogue shadow blossoms
'cross time's carefully carved spine
calling the creatures of night
the skyline engulfed
by a loreal flux
electric imperial lights
that pulse through the trees
with strange clemency
a constellation of tyrian shades
like the mollusk's sleek shell
or a molecular cloud
now conjoined in subfusc serenade
and the last concubine
of the sun is in hiding
safe from the lust of the moon
while soft darkness adheres
to those without fear
of cold eyes that will always see through
an actthere is a patch of death screen blue in the sky
too obvious to have been painted so it must be natural,
they could've painted it to trick us into thinking so,
no answering machine for the representative of god
except for the rubble smouldering on radiowaves.
the ball was taken away from you by ten bodyguards
escorting you further from the field where only bigger animals play.
i am the bull charging at the matador.
i am the lone center forward running straight into the net.
because you will never
you pay for maze entrance tickets with brain attrition
and every wall is a grater
you pant and itch bumping into migraine
tissue crumbs in looping tracks
triple agent code name ari
find what you hateon my skeleton alleyways are built,
gaps and craters. suicide pact-bound teens
walking into lava.
i spied on them like an nsa angel.
a xenocryst pricked my toe.
i was the one veering off the fiery sidewalk,
and saw chunks of motorway half-
regurgitated, ashen smegma
fallout. the language into which
my onanistic fire
suddenly everything had meaning
first of all,
there was someone watching over
our wreckage. and it was
thanks for eating methis house keeps spewing out
our chewed bodies
with rombus marks from rombus teeth
the faint blue light
and the dark rooms gave us.
The JackalThe jackal cries by night.
The jackal hunts by night.
The blood is let by might;
The soul is failed starlight.
Though the jackal weeps,
He spares none, who show mercy;
For it is not his way,
And traditions are only broken by the weak.
Crispy Duck Has Crusty Eye No MoreAn itemized list
pardon the pun
the prop masters
the white hot day
a grim twinkle
in the eyes
of that cool
and factory duck 666999666 s
You're my Umbreon~Charizard is Red
And Feraligatr is blue
If you were a pokemon,
I'd choose you!
I'd give you Rare Candies
Just to see you smile.
Fighting battle after battle
It'd be worth all the while!
Bulbasaur is green
And Diglett is brown
I'll give you some Poffins
So that you won't frown.
We can beat Team Rocket
If we work together.
We'll be the very best
Forever and ever!
Jigglypuff is pink
And black goes to Houndour
We'll be like Brock and Misty
You're all that I adore!
You're my Umbreon
And my best friend too
I prefer you over a shiny
Because I love you!
we're all just meat
in the planetary fridge
drunk eyes and sweet lips
whiskey sighs on bruised hips
particles [ ::: ]
in a recombinant box
but particles of what?
not the dna that mother gave us
or the de-
materialized ditch water that our
fathers used to bathe us
or a strange myriad of faiths...
pray to any form you like
just know that when you're gone you'll be replaced
[transmissions of a dead girl]i am the
moon: i am
the silver pill
to weigh down
into leaden eyes--
i am the
of the dark.
the stars are
all dead in their
you'll be safe, dear,
as i am the moon,
with all of your
(i am good bye and yet,
you think only of romantic
i am the moon.
i am the crescent
and dead altogether,
i still die.
All Here For A ReasonI turned onto a shady, well-manicured driveway that, for all intents and purposes, looked harmless enough. Maple trees lined both sides of the street, and a parade of Canadian geese marched across the road to a wide duck pond with a flamboyant fountain. There were blooming crepe myrtles and rose-of-sharons, and as I grew closer to my destination, neatly trimmed gardens with neatly trimmed bushes.
I stopped to let the geese pass. They looked at me; one hissed. I honked my horn and moved around them.
At the end of the road sat a collection of grayish buildings and a number of signs directing me to the appropriate parking lot. "Welcome to Ten Creeks Hospital," said one of them. "Please enjoy your stay." I parked in the visitor's lot. Surely I wouldn't be staying.
I was shaking when I got out of my car. I had spent the morning getting high. One foot in front of the other, flip-flop noises, hot sidewalk. Mulberry and magnolia trees, freshly shaved grass. A bench and pan for smokers. A set o
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