[they are sometimes called the sea]

they are sometimes called the sea
the shell world because
a sailboat, the 2 Pence
and the 1 Pence shows

near Cocos
near Cocos
as the creature is known
near Cocos
near Cocos
and the 1 Pence shows

a sailboat the 2 Pence
the shell world because
they are sometimes called the sea
they are sometimes called what was

Alice in a commercial printing carded packaging case study

this is the postcard view of out there
stranded and straggling
just a matter of "brain chemistry"
step-by-step anywhichcolor mind-explosion
launched in the town of hot weather and alcohol
where the birds are better dressed than you are
bridging the gap between stripes on flowers to
the more experimental aspects of seamless
Baby Pygmy Hippo light Slivers
of piles dainty, tiny and elusive
valuable sources of protein
there’s so more to do than hand feed the playful
the Tiny burning-soul
of Panama
in goat trance
a Grey Capped
Smiley Face
perched beside the fruit of a
pet Scream Contest
I’d love to frame
a volcano
less accurately, as songbirds
your favourite
Personalisable falcon bird stickers
on the sodden forest trails
slowly winding
to a mixture
of footsteps crunching through
head pops
killer seahorse Decollage
ENDLESS Public Awareness of
The eggs
in the proximity of
incredibly neat
stew complete with the abundant
sun foods
I discovered
the powdered Empire Eurasian slow loris Goose Building Ensemble
But these are the
catfish gold parrots
4 stripe damsel green goby yellow clown clown
Smells Like
(A) white yarn (B) blue yarn (C) black yarn (D) olive yarn (E) yellow yarn
shimmering beauty….
derived probably from
graceful neck drips
Fern curves
invented by the
spinning light, jerked out of the
eating itself
Royal Target Spot
: It’s just music
writing music
a madrigal set in
1 Inch Square Images
a White-eye
that never happened
ask the top of my head
from astronomy-to-zoology
This Bird changes, change-running, chord-scale
of the Flower (Drag
collected facts:
the boat
surrounded by thousands of
Fuzzy Dwarf Lionfish …
as small as a pencil eraser
After Soaking in Their Waters
if you put
nearby machines
in the bottle of cork
ravens are found
in The Books Of Eden
on the eve of the first world war
before You Embark on the Road to
Glory Road
shut your eyes, and imagine
truth-seeking & Biblical …
history that you are living in
in relation to
street drifting on shiny black sealed pavement, and then
telling the
story of a man …
Whether it’s the slowpoke in the left lane or the guy
On the road to
the facts about speed cameras
the Bridge of Flowers
the need to Keep
determined to find evidence of a lost civilization
all else
is apparent

a tooth of teeth once shattered

a tooth of teeth
once shattered

once shattered
shattered hard

against an arm of arms
what mattered

when read through
piles marked “discard”

what glows
is glow

no need
for how

you shatter fast
your frozen toe

is that the reason
for you bow

is that the reason
you’ve climbed low

you work your fingers
down to nubs

and in this cold bag
of you bones

too late for rubs
too late for rubs

one with a field
of all alones

content to be
the never knowns

i iove you so much i couldn’t come through more clearly

forget, for a moment
this country
could use more
visual twists and theatrical nods
boombox recordings of
reflections from the UN
a beloved aristocracy
in the Confucian idea of the ‘Mandate of Heaven’
standing satisfied
barbed reasonably
treat people as you bend
into an instant classic
class in making a
cynical bag of poison
a tale of marital
brain damage
you’re actively seeking
a certain energy
generations of pure and simple
totally worthless morality
focusing on each starfish in the sea
instead of the thousands dead on the beach
the soft apples instead of
the assassin’s unexcited eye
some might say that’s an unattainable desire
against the unbearable actuality
fevered on the road hitchhiking
when in fact
even when things are inanimate
there’s a murky ambivalence
that moves your friendly neighborhood’s
in some ways
assaults by the
air for enduring
circumstance with a sassy
rebirth of a
go-round with
a looking-glass
collision with
an honorable people trying to survive in a hostile world – a people of
tender taste
(somewhat saturated)
innocent gusto after a hiatus
to help make the Faith
a redemptive
even in a world
that casts a
jangle j
of intricate
silken lines
with long listens
even disarmed
an inescapable
richness of the
slightly sweet
sit around
every day
eventually, you get a little crazy thinking
in Japanese her name means
"The introduction of a stabbing motion"
or "playing in an endless series of
milky mingling"
the right touch of
waiting for the
Pssst! Hey,
there’s a distancing
to the levitating
there’s a
shrimp cocktail-ness
to the richness of the herring
Now, speaking
“I’m Not Even
Been Gone” …
“Oh look, …
Forsaken …”
if we purely think of the
the futility of
the melody of
voyeuristic fascination
a soft
and near-impossible
with serial techniques
as words
would we
nervously out
the yellow light
the walls have
been standing for
the doors
for years
and built anew
with a list of examples… Then
Red mountains around them
where Everything stays inside. And if
to ears
your heart
can’t keep
After all this is
sure and
within the eye
You must be
smart silver
Completely unphased by trends and inclination for Whispers
and daylight
and dull to
its sameness stretched
the light
How shall
The eye
I’m glad you’re feeling
better the goal of much
semi-pointless argumentation
worldly comments
the dance gap
making final separation the painful, inevitable
latest in
serving up
a handful of indulgence
a popular flinch
taken way too lightly
in the process of
a large silent group
spoke wheels
at the sombre upcoming
for aspirin
in a straitjacket
what counts is

First Speech Before the Second Session of the Third Congress of Fourth-Degree Associations

dinosaur men,
meme designers,
last freelance illustrator,
and other distinguished quests

we all know how it is to think
you naturally feel color secreted along the edge
but it is hard if next to impossible the feel The One Thing at a time
with everything coming at you from the edges

we’ve all asked ourselves,
‘have you identified
probable sources of wetting?’

‘do we really need to chain
the food bowl to the dishwasher?’

‘what good is a Merit Badge
in composting?’

No one told us our first question
in the examination of any object
in the world should be
‘could this be better used as
high Frontal Armor?’

We learned the hard way –
getting shot up again and again,
dying and then
being resurrected.

let us never forget
what is now recognised
by the American Kennel Association
would have been considered a deformity
in a less enlightened age

let us never forget
intricate technical marvels
will be replaced
again and again by
a new dawn

let us never forget
somewhere in every pretext
remains stupors

The difference between us in here
and those in the streets?

We know
a good thorax
is hard to find
down to the 5th decimal.

Sometimes it is tempting to say

Let us see what
cold science and everyday experience says
about moving an object at rest in a circular orbit
within an object travelling at the speed of light.

Let us see what
apparitions float
around in the world.

Let us see what
from whence the brilliant poison churning
in that ancient mother burning

yes, we were once
packed in tight in smaller marbles,
Mexican thieves and drunken warbles,
all amateur fossils unfolding before
hungry sieves wanting more and more

life rolls
dust things
just turn

but smoking remains the single most healthiest thing
you could possibly do for you body,
short of stabbing yourself repeatedly in the abdomen
with a carving knife.

And don’t let anyone tell you any different!

these marks won’t go away

place on the door
a wall of wings
a tangle of a straightening
a siege a head a butchered bow
wherever Sundays need to go
a walking through
a rear window
to something clanged
of something clipped
of something clamped
to something dipped
a gurgling
til something stopped
the gold work hand
the silver chopped

down the door
and through
the hatch
the least failed light
last closest match
lasts even longer
when you scratch
these marks won’t go away

so all my healers,
aren’t you proud
these marks won’t go away

This isn’t a form of sleep

This isn’t a form of sleep
not a when white was bright hits right kind of day
or a brightened saw shrugged sore
when our arms parted ways with our shoulders
we left them there on the floor

now I burn my dull drawer
how I burn my dull drawer

I cull draws by lamplight
in night fits by dull caws
and the reds burn so raw they roar

a sad tableaux of low repose
where hope is a brittle dried rose -
but what is it you’re standing for
all men
night inspections
wages and hours
waiting at an open door

always on the cusp of arriving at an imaginative spaniel

an imaginative spaniel
always on the cusp of arriving at
anvil footstep
from the
the retches of this
long after even the
have faded
as engraver and imitation
have faded
long after even the
the retches of this
from the
anvil footstep
always on the cusp of arriving at
an imaginative spaniel

It’s Not the Size of the Wand

It’s not the size of the wand,
it’s whether what the wand is being used against
is impervious to magic.

It’s not the length of the journey
it’s the miles on the tires,
the knocks under the hood,
the multiple warning lights on.

It’s not the sharpness of the curve,
it’s what’s waiting behind the bend.

It’s not the thickness of the fog,
it’s what the fog is hiding.

It’s not being late to the party,
it’s acting as if the party was a funeral.

It’s not whether the door is locked,
it’s whether you are inside of a house.

It’s not the ear against the door,
it’s the mouth inside the room.

It’s not the puncture,
it’s the prick with a pin

It’s not the gun,
it’s the ammunition
and its velocity upon impact.

It’s not the going in reverse,
it’s the stuck in neutral.

It’s not the treading water,
it’s never reaching the sea.

It’s not the void,
it’s what fills the void.

It’s not the rain,
it’s what you’re made of.

It’s not the steepness of the climb,
it’s the lack of oxygen.

It’s not how you run the race,
it’s whether you’re in the right race.

It’s not how fast the wheel turns,
it’s whether the wheel has hit the road.

It’s not the weight on your back,
it’s the 90% blockage in your heart.

It’s not the waiting,
it’s what the end of waiting implies.

It’s not the good night’s sleep,
it’s where you are sleeping
and the things you had to do
to be get there.

It’s not passing judgment,
it’s judging passing.

It’s not what has been done,
it’s the remembering.

what brush have you brought

what brush have you brought
orange, tangerine
I rinse my hair
with Listerine

I rind my hours
with mattress sores
my star spurs twinkle
just like snores

I orange my eyes
to see through my mouth
the teeth I am missing
I blame on the moths

once I became (b)light
burned dull apathy
patient in the gallows
of air therapy

I dream in the shallows
of my lungs’ draughts
with nothing to show –
a handful of aughts

if I only had staples…
if I was raised in The Maples…
now all that is left of my head
fits neatly on this bed

so what brush have you brought
orange, tangerine
don’t matter the size
just that it’s clean


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