little things

cut sliced from wood found twisted dying
laid in egg cartons wrapped with recycled duct tape
it is known then now how to pull me in.
buddhic fertility trickles into new ideas that leave sour and cold
abandoned a malfunctioning winter.

it is almost too much in this space unraveling personality, and the wood then holds gently what perceptions can muster.

there is a homed pining, honing in on a busy treading
and deep within the vague
is an angry heart, timid to splay
waiting for finding
vacancy
unscrupulous foreign familiar to yield everything’s holy.

no bait is on the line, no reeling yet waiting sombre
with thick muddy cloud and postures, pastured, that loosen memory into forgetting.

they will write each other on the ripple puddles of dubious technologies expecting time to be reliable and inbuilt dire yearning to find them under the same moon grass –

holding planets shifting orbituous
never falling — some breath deep
chest rise and fall.

webbing (from september seven, eleven)

paper found: it is ever only what you see it be every foul movement of mouth
is it the gyrating fly that i save pulling on the web with my prehensile compassion
or the hungry spider who spun in the corner
we pull at the earth planting our waves and twinkle mend what we believe is broken
there is nothing else

zucchini relish

15C grated zuke
one pound carrot
6C chopped onion
eight sweet peppers
1/3C pickling salt

mix together in a large bowl and let stand at least three hours or overnight then drain in a colander or squeeeeeeeeze excess liquid out through a cheese cloth

3C vinegar ACV preferably for the fruity taste
six cups sugar
3tsp celery seed
1 1/2 tsp black pepper
1 1/2 tsp turmeric
1 1/2 nutmeg

three tablespoons corn starch mixed in a little cold water to make a paste

mix and stir till sugar dissolves
add drained veggies and bring to boil a few minutes until most of the liquid is gone
transfer to sterilized jars and seal and process in a hot water bath for ten minutes

how doth the little butterfly

how does dusk corral this breathing awe
forgotten between each one for a new mind majesty remembering.
angular rails strike from the defeated sun that hovers
paddling for its final breaths.
breathtaking majestic
and there is something other than i thou in this.

your dusk is another setting comfort
you blaze torn defeated
hovering in a resentitude that shakes you
this will always be my pleasure.

we are in her as she leaves the sunday tangerine popsicle
over gridded terrain already shivering in her adeui.
there is nothing else to look at — destroying the cones making soft serve retina
leaving glimpses of twinkling twizzling
finally looking away.

herbipolis

between a tubular sudsing, you suspend to nanomoments of identifiable cultivation.
from this vivacious lead to that eloquent truesayer
elements drew
germinating a lost fiction of history to bring you till today
in your hush humility of such cadre –
slight powerful emissions.
from whence gathered fruits how found you me mine nanomoment swing from a sand dollar pendulum
that never touches the ground.
they will call you many names you have called vision to your self in your nightmarish midnights,
where yet your destiny has not introduced itself in its aromatic sectacular
capable of shifting you from the way you were
always meant to be into the way that you were always meant to be.

ocean mountain forest sky

isolated she is in a neon green water mirror
frameless torch in the bitter dawn
the cubicle partitioning makes spiral homeodevelopments:
pampered playing fields
lakes, links
and a towerless horizon bleeds over the hiccups piercing into a forgotten inverness.

paper chokes a desolate pancake grey blanket of done
and tells which way is ground by the chimney cumulus intersperse.

the dried wintered green is like a dali moustache on an elephant champion landscape.
not enough to hide the gems, the birds that would save the morning

peas and queues

neosporin junkies sweep the streets for coins of a better class
– their unbilled hours, from a spot somewhere between the heart and the curl, decompose in muslin.
the mantra has become a graffiti’ed giant on private property
to prove a cavalier point only hamsters will heed.

traipsing the subway car for illegitimate change to support imaginary rafflings are the leftovers
undercut forgottens.
the wafers are too thickly wrapped in their earth-friendly to-go containers to save an earth.
this metabolizes so quickly that the undercurrent has no tide.

no one is left behind. the streets then open to facilitate vice –
crimes that leach from the clouds to the very root ends
before they poison the soil.

the world is too much with us.

the continued

iridescent soma glides at the slice nudging to be
that otherwise buries into the polka dated primal
somehow the withdrawal has gotten us to elasticize from here,
uncivilized, brutish.
high tea has done nothing but bloat

and now a shy paddle draws from a snowy sky
that hasn’t seen such modest cover since months
yet nothing jars alert to this feeding
there is wilting rather, pallid passivity, in the grey
from an adaption to the warm
to the venomous thirsty sun soaked blue that has held the sky
predicted.

neanderthal dragging sunrise
for loin, rumpled
briefcase club soda with lyme
in an unblustered rustled wood
rowans blistered a naval orange affirmative

tbc

vitus

the absorption of scenetics has bot been blood thinned for a time
like i am this as before when i was something grand
about and out
and in new sounds, all sounds
never before peopled
lights and puppet blue eyes never sparkled ‘fore
we have what is ours and grasp this like sand putty
in a tidal tornado
and as the day sets the same reflection on your cold hands is a twirled cacophony of voices
and pinball arguing against the beat misinterupt
in an all clear here haze.

Shade and Freud

in the tent all is bedazzle and glitz glitter –
brows painted and bodice upheaving magnificent cups of dea.
the tent is a three hour chaos of  frenzy bonanza circus stripe
with christmas chocolate, hors d’oeuvre crostini and espresso to end.

the streets have neon darkness –
three brute chelloveck turning round broadway
and a crippled china town shrugged, bare barren.
her shock clouded the official interrogation.

the storefront two a.m. -
two crowbars looking for a squat
our walls thin and enticing
mercury is spinning backward.