I wouldn't count the miracles, if I were you.
The numbers are so unsurprising. The numbers would so wearily betray.
The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses… He lies there, so beautifully–
The unjust precursor to my madness. I blame everyone, everyone who is not me.
I am now a different being; heavier, but still the same. Have I changed? Am I
To change? Why was I, to myself, even wilfully, awfully unfriendly? Unfriendly to
Incarcerations and relations with the touch-moved, whores in horse stances overdancing,
The greedy red breathable plastic. Buying books qualifies as sel ...Read more
I litter the cabinets with poems that should have never seen the light of day. / The cabinets are for everybody. The cabinets are for nobody. / I could donate and refute my exploits. The slow build impedes. / The slow builds are multitudinous away from the molehill. / But nobody here is the boss to the beacon, so a toast to the missions lost! / (We have lost many things. I will be grieving nothing.)
This version of Nicotine Forever is the short version.
The full version will be released on a later date.
(Probably during the release of All Life Is Comedy.).
td.jumper_01, td.jumper_02 ...Read more
I. Re-desecration of Beauty
I have not know all heart breaks known to mankind, but the one that I know is powerful and active–
That I, with the early sprouts and sprites so beautiful, have already peaked, and that only moss groweth downhill.
I remember the Word of the Lord as it were rewritten, and I have ridden it ill since the gardens of the soul,
In the day by day, unflatten. In the day by day, sink. In the day of the gay, rite-eous tubular sans cure,
And I take with me the remainder of the power I can take. I will rake it all, for sure.
The hair of Samson is cut once more. There is ...Read more
"And on the eight day, God sang, 'Let there be gays!'"
good-spirited fast-track and fool of fracking,
leak and let leak, freak–
again, leak and let leak, the savagely beautiful–
Her name is the effigy I throw around to get
a little less attention and a little more fake sympathy–
O', you fakers, clear as the days of my caretakers,
are you good? fluid as the soul can be?
high as the revelation of some fortune stripped across your bow,
hammered like the Almighty oiled up and ready for a show?
good, good, let me tell you something, then–
every year, I find myself digging deeper ...Read more
You are walking in the museum of now-humanity's ancestors.
You, the descendant, smiles in your crooked way. They are in jars.
They are displayed from a far and being made money for.
And the fire casts to all a long shadow, and the shadow veils on you
Perfectly and still functioning. "You failed," you whispered to it
Like a melancholy chub no longer a longer, apricot-eyed.
"You failed back," theirs seem to reply, the nefarious pointing and taunting,
From the cylindrical glass where chunks were preserved, the bullet-topped
Chunks of history, chunks of your avarice in a pollinated sweat-b ...Read more
Anarchy of the mind.
I wrote some welcome-to-my-blog remarks, which you can read here.