Category: Poetry

Melville won’t return any calls made from this area code, though it’s uncertain if the bill is being paid. Hard times. The signal slips into noise. What echo isn’t enamored of its source, perfectly estranged? Wafting pseudorefrain barely perceptible (unless insane…). Causal connections and patterns aren’t always delusions, is what someone with an unkempt seriousness is saying. Obviously the value of yarn produced in 2 hours is equal to the shimmer coming off that dress, which is not yet disheveled. Entwined in nary a snare, yet staying put. There are designs keeping in line organized beneath whatever’s “in” mind, erecting un-sacred traditions to divide time into avoirdupois.

sherry poured out. her heart, late into the night, finally let her open up without recoiling. circling the drain of pain inscribed where love once was thought to reside, these hissing imps prod forward toward a goal never realized, multiplying as insect eyes the angles of reproach neatly focused on the foundations of the abyss. the acuity of it all burned flesh smooth with scar tissue, enough to singe new nerves. a swerve around subjects peek-a-booing too crassly to earn a livable wage on stage and we find new ways of desecrating the profaned. unguent resentment, show the way. tenon without place, eager to waste whatever’s available, uncertain bile extrusions be damned. a bit of luck, here come six chorus girls, wearing feathers, bringing to mind delicious places to hide. consigning away to whom or what is never clear but it’s done all the same, the effective negation of ritual stylized into the very air. what metaphor? careening farther than night could allow, the reign of cronos unfolding in precision engineered psychologies bound by nothing but their chains. a little longer now, only a few moments more, scheherazade’s gambit reduced to the synapses between syllables. expecting relief? it is tension here, no catharsis. the mark was never sighted. weave quickly! thread measured and cut reminds that this is unrenewable, not valid at select times. intertwining dissolves and strengthens, lest left unloved.

digress long enough and the path reintroduces itself exactly where whatever shouldn’t happen begins. a warbling sky alerts to what might yet be if things go according to plan. on a sunday is such a cliche, sashaying this way and that with that fey crown of thorns. um, it’s lowkey kinda a male manipulator move to hold over people’s heads something no one asked for. lots of people got crucified. leave your stupid business of miracles and start fucking up the moneychangers or shut up mr. bigshot clickityclackety yackittyyackity talk lots of smackitty keep coming backitty apply for a math degree to see if there are any available. what’s to stop. puerile pimps, sipping a mix of aperitif and digestif (they call it dinner), ask “why did quetzalcoatl go away?” fools in love with the possibility that not everything is known and thank the lord it is so. pilloried for the filigree adorning these, ya sabes, capisce? it’s an open secret. what will tomorrow be? coordinated. rock the cradle, for it is full of tragicomic carmelites. sister, pray, answer a query—fair warning, it is a little coarse…

levelheaded and dreaded by dudes who’re wedded, wives panties wetted, cuz everywhere I get feted and headed and breaded, regretted. unleaded at the pump and dumb, boy you know I’m a chump. you know I ain’t vote for Biden. you know I always be hidin. open DMs? I be slidin. are y’all jellyous of those? they be a rebellious house, with a cat and a mouse. what did I say about your spouse?? sorry no disrespect, I just haven’t had sections of skin folded over again. language can be so strange. strange, don’t you think? over again? and what more could we, wielding a pen, ask for? an errata is left in, the critics are flexing, art’s anorexing, yes it’s all so perplexing: why continue this task, there’s no everlast, when the work is as prickly as smilax?