chartology

Six Twelve

2013-08-07T06:16:00.000-07:00

The enumeration of life is the displacement of your shadow throughout time.

Ode Shoes; A Place With No Memory

2013-08-06T18:59:00.003-07:00

Clay. Here I sat till sunshade became rust. Oxidation of bare minimums. Archetypes, fancy fuzz, fuzzed futz, flatbed trucks, and machined Manhattan husk. Clay bricks built this hulled out haul, overbore, (dusty rivets) riveted, destiny brawls, but never calls. I heard wonder; intrepid land. Fortunes beset ash folly.

Brooked fort hoods. Out of touch. In love with this blush, brush fire must, fermented peach stains, oak barrel blaze, hot summer haze. Mist remember slag, sheath, carbonite grins, cast iron gin. Weary witch days, prairie sins.

Knocked hat, slippery rotatory pulls, tractor dragon wench. My wretched sheet stench. Knuckle drag wayward stag. Honest hoofs the combine implement. I feel such. Don't know 'bout it much. No ordinary crush. No sands to relent.

Teeth up, teem oil, suckery savours in lush platinum skin braze. Worthy. I wonder no other. A sacrifice made out on the flatbush. Barefooted skins of green, places where the grass don't stain, loves of cherried skin luck. Four leaves. Ripped buttons beyond the sleeve.

Skirt the toes in thickets and things. Drew a drove out past the firey bulbs that make this night a seed. Tungsten in argon sieves. The indeeded idea in which roles change, love saves no names. Waded body, chlorine drag. Awe full feelings romp away.

Dovetail, I trumpet yell. Yeah? Oh fucking well. Why tell me, man? Memory dust done of yesterday. Today I 'member, today it rained. Slick sultry sheek skins, chilly window drafts, foggy caught bottom glass. Heel toe, heave and row. West wind tolls, better bee. Record plays remorseful rings, raids of chirality, grace.

Can't find solacing save face. I lost mine in the womb of May. Picketed white boardwalk, slats of salt, sick to sightedness. This place. Must I relish factory slaughter? Meat hooks? Boiled bloodshed. Notta martyr fur miles. Long country avenue pass. Fellas won't be done it for days.

Funny hairpin skunk, funky wonky junk, bowels about the bent rake rays. Cooling skin flecked carpet. Foolish hopeless made. Dear incandescence fades. Pale amber logger soggin' pit stains. Ain't got much left of a soul to age. Poor bounty sparks, ankle biter, toenail haggard sage. Head shake. Voted rosemary legs.

Salted earth of gypsum, magnesium sulfate cyanide. Who'd of knew, the burn this wheelbarrow world woulda made. Scorch, seer, sever. Seven fat years, seven lean ears; corn tassel conundrum. Shovel scotch. Hillbilly roughneck blues. Quantum kinetic feldspar. Quartz tonnage, diamond bits diddit. Rawf, rar, zip, *spin*

Kid, the fuck you say? Devil's play. Annabell won't find ya, kid, not these valleys, not these days. I gotta give up this adnoun, proverb slingin' ways. What be another dollar to the cut throat drunkard's collars? Slop wally stops, never knew better. Can't guarantee the will to stay. Ratteo blues usher belly aches.

Outbound, forwarding flight. Merry's playground. Places greener, grass don't itch, neither stain. Hell, kid, sticks? Ain't but a lick of it. Flat dustbowl in the bathed draino bathtub veins. Round 'n round. Down 'n down. Chubbed up, knuckle teet, beach street. Places to make high stakes wagers, throw down favors. Places where glass hugs tight shoulders, endangered cookie curved waves.

What about it? What's that mean? You tell me. I'm as lost as this map's Italian. Preggos broken down. Seein' stars. Sauce, the whiskey in me. Surevo lit swerves in parkways. Dime's a day's pay. Dielectric phonetic wonderin' wit it. Ain't no galas down there, past that last yawnder. I knows places my melons got splitted.

Hop the transit metro pass tags. Passenger swag. Stuff We All Get. Burrs buck the kneehigh suckers, them clipped wings, they'll stay. Factory farm meat thing again? Give me Arabian nights, horse backed, swashbuckled belt knuckled out dearest deadest of day.

The forest, the porage, the pasture, the iron sleigh. Mud boggin' clay.

Nothing left to say.

2013-08-06T10:38:00.002-07:00

The afterglow is gone. The sparks, inspiration. I got none of it any longer. I snap my fingers and comb the depths below, but no boyish charms, sparkling howls, or extremely racy line works come to be.Totally kickass word pairs: "oxy acetylene grunge" and "aluminium oxide sparks"... I can't use because I can't structure a damn thing. The magic is faded like the aftershocks finally ceased. This earthquake, the shift, crushing edge of tectonic plates... the dovetail turmeric crest, the unwavering breast, coffin nail nightcap.. all the rest.

I can see traffic stats. Probably nothing more than the morbid curiosity of people I use to know. We knew one another. We shared an engagement, a special memory in this course of breath. You never really know anyone, ya know. You knew them at that time in moment in space; the inflection point, the place which you interacted. But that moment is far gone. Frames for them, frames for you, both have hurried on. Hell, how can you even know yourself? Think for a moment... in the morning when you wake, exactly who are you? You are the person your memory of (memories of memories...) tells you to be. Reinforced by those around you and all the materialism we bind with. How can you know you're not waking up as someone else? Your reflection is completely untrustable, but that's all we are, isn't it? We live out our lives through the shadows we leave behind. We succumb as a metaphor of our surroundings in time.

Inspiration is something akin to energy. It comes from somewhere, but it sure as hell don't come up to meet you on cue. I can't fasten you down, not with this narrow band mixture I've cooked up in the paint shaker. There's something deceptive about you. I can't place; I can't trace it out. I can speak somewhat coherently, but notation I abuse. I don't much care about maintaining the relics of civilization's past. They don't deserve you. You require a new language to fasten a marbled blue watered blue. I can feel the entropy decline. I can feel the loss of rhyme. I get redundant in style and tone, words and grammars and the like. There's just no way that you mean nothing. I invented an entire skew, an entire branch of language for you. How could someone provoke, just through being who they are, so much?

The language of the universe is not mathematics. The mathematics of the universe is language, and all language is bound by contex-independent dialogue. Why wouldn't you tell me to get lost from jump street? You never said a word about the words I framed for you. Through the grapevine, stepwise in the six degree space, my words were referred to as "creepy stalker poetry". Hurtful. Improper venue, I'll be the first to say. People are too goddamn sensitive these days and because of it, we all heed the same. Society is one of those design-by-committee sort of things. The rafters, beams, social constructs all become the lowest common denominator. Your light through my lens, the prism spokes, darling, all true.

But perhaps I must concede that I was wrong about you. It is not as if any of this will complete the function, return and resolve. So, here and now, I best make my peace with it. In recent times, I've been in the presence of hell, through no uncertain terms. I've heard sheer fucking evil talk through static, only once, but really how much horror does one need? What happened that night? Who knows. That water bottle moved up the incline of the seat on a flat stretch of road. I saw it; there's no explanation for that bit of it. But alas, the dataset is incomplete. I can't say it happened with greater than fifty-fifty certainty. Every time you re-access a memory, you distort it with an emotional intention; leaving off a curly bit here or there, dropping a roughness about an edge there... Your distance from an event, in a timeline perspective, forces consolidation of information, that's the necessity of sleep. In REM cycles, the brain restructures sensory data.

I've felt the shadows creeping in, lucifer's candles burn, and my shadow stalks me as prey. Take me, I tell it. Never does. Whatever god crafted this place, be it some bible thump or software programmer, he gave me light; he gave me life. I ain't much scared of anything. How could I be? You skip stones in hell, you have shots at the bar, and share a mutual fuck-you with the hate spawn there. All this, and really all I want is a girl to talk about Nickelodeon cartoons too, someone who appreciates subtlety, someone to share this rye bread of humour with. I don't care about fortune or fame; these are the trappings of the devil. Your vanity exists somewhere between you and the mirror's evaporated aluminium. Your vanity is your projection onto this plane, our mutual space, our reality, or temporal membrane, if you will.

I don't talk to anyone. I'm totally in the weeds. Nobody will come near me. I don't know if it's just intimidation, or I just hop and jump and skip across too many context pools (conceptual peripheries) that people just relent. It's always the same stare, the same look; total eye glaze. I tell people, "All matter in the universe is light," and people look at you like you're fuckin' nuts. I didn't ask for this... okay, all along I've wanted to be incandescently brilliant, but look at the seclusion, the price of admission. I write code. I program UNIX machines. I love FreeBSD. Macintosh runs a FreeBSD kernel. I am a logician. I am a mathematician, but completely unconventional. I don't believe in math that can't be executed, math I can't see in code form. Everything else is shit. We have problems to solve as a species. Staggering problems that we can only solve before the walls cave in. I have no time to dilly dally about in some academic mental masturbation.

The universe is a computer system. Control flow is the path of execution through memoised trees. This is the beam of light. You, me and everything in between.

Peak oil is another matter tied up in this. Resource depletion. The ponzi dynamics of our day-to-day financial enterprises. Money is ultimately a marker for the underlying resources that we extract from the crust of the earth. Aluminum, copper, magnesium, phosphorous... these things are finite. They can't be cooked up in a lab. They can't be changed out for something else in some economist wet dream fantasy. Money is a marker, but go to the bank and loan ten grand. It gets created on the fly. This is ridiculous. This couldn't be sustainable over the long haul.

The watershed moment is when the chickens come home to roost. Throughout human history there have been an estimated 23 civilizations (minus tribes / secluded groups). 22 have failed. We have tremendously complex interdependent infrastructure that requires red tape and bureaucracy . We have an ailing electric grid that, because of economic efficiencies, we strip out the safety margins. The nuclear reactors? Who is going to stick around when the world goes the way of The Road? Meltdown. It ain't like flipping a switch. Such is the hull of this brittle boat.

It raises my blood pressure. I'll go down, henceforth, say no more.

This is my cross to bear... some of it. I could tell you about the optical phenomenon, I suppose. I'll end it this way. Can you see the tip of your nose? If you can, maybe this is interesting. I've lived with it so long now, I am no longer impressed. Before I do so, let me explain a little about the human brain. From what I've gathered over the past three years, there are two lobes and a bridge between them. From your POV: the left lobe is logic, discrete concepts, mathematics. The right is creativity, passion, inventiveness, abstraction. The logical side of your brain (left) maps the right side of the body. Vice versa. The left maps the right hand field of view of both eyes. Vice versa. There's more here, but I'll wax brevity.

With you hand, close one eye (doesn't matter which). From the highest point, trace the path down the nose to the furthest point. Remember its position in reference to your surroundings. Now, do the exact same with the other eye. Open both eyes. As if you were hanging a shelf, try to level those two points. It's deceptive, I warn you. It appears as if you can, but given a long enough time frame, it remains unsolvable. Now, you can balance on a curve, choosing an imaginary point equal distant from each superimposed image. We interface with this world, this reality, in a curved fashion, but this is not three dimensions. Sine and cosine are codependent entities per lens. Think of each eye as a camera lens. X and Y on the left, X and Y on the right. Four dimensions. This is not isolated to your eyes alone. This is all sensory inputs. All information processed by your brain is done so using the same mathematics, the same algorithm (for the most part). All of our senses are translated into electrical impulses.

I haven't fully fleshed this out, but the driver is there. I think it has something to do with the blind spot where the optical nerve passes through.

Your brain is a black box. Outside your brain is the light of this world. You can't confirm any of it, but you have to trust it someway. We, in a step-wise optimization, find a center; we find something to hold onto that we believe in. Hawking called this concept of trust Model-Dependent Realism in his book The Grand Design. We construct a cumulative model about the world around us. These models are color palettes. The colors themselves don't matter because they are intrinsic to who we are as individuals. Only the contrasts matter, the relationship between this item and that one.

If I hold out an apple and ask you, "what color is this?", you say red and I agree, we have consistency across a shared medium. (The medium, our universe, is a lightscape or dreamspace; the parallel streams of code running in this quantum mainframe.) We both agree, I'm holding a red apple. However, neither one of us can prove that we see the same pigment, the same hue.

It is easiest to understand as "the cocktail party problem." Over Chardonnay, standing in a room full of people, how can your brain selectively pick up one audio stream, your friend talking, follow it intently, and filter out the noise of the room? Mathematically, this is referred to as non-negative matrix factorization. You rotate a triangular matrix about the mirror line. The form changes, but not the inherent function. Why triangles? Every second, your eyes in tandem, complete three saccades. A saccade is a rapid eye movement where the eyes fixate on a point in space. RGB addressing is 24 bits (2^24 == 16 million and change), but there's something peculiar here. Green is a mixture of blue and yellow. Just spitballing, but there's this missing component, like the missing axis. Four dimensions, right? Perhaps it's RGBY, 32 bits (2^32 == ~4.3 billion).

I'll break this tangent. Much more I could say. And believe me, as sure as the sun rises in the east, dusts in the west, you are a marvel of extraordinary potential that I haven't even begun to quantify. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Miss, you are shockingly true in every decked out regard. In you, beyond the palms of your cheeks, the chandeliers behind your eyes, I see me. I see another version of me. I see a path I didn't take.

Perhaps I'm conceited, a narcissist full tilt, but this is me. My name is John. Don't know if you're out there. Don't know if I made an impression, left an indelible mark somewhere within your castle walls, but these words are here for you. Dear Sophie, nice to meet you.

Cordially,
John

Saucy Sauté

2013-08-05T12:50:00.003-07:00

*** NC-17 ***

## sizzle's in the steak, not the fake shake 'n bake,
## bisquick? rubber? this ain't even real butter!
## cookie cutter, rainbow colored dyes and yellow number fives,
## brutes got no business with fawns of fine feather,
## aching dawn, new lover,
## hear and quiver, suddenly wicked dreams of wonder,
## wet sheet stick, under this, tongue flicks,
## palm press, I'll take you under,
## tongue dip, pelvic kicks,
## unhushed hips, pillow screams,
## hot nights, nipples, trails of ice
## finger bites, toe curls and cream,
## throaty hums, "goddamn that's nice!"
## shore washing waves, your legs, my mouth, days,
## ache and teem, moonlight lacey thangs,
## corsets and leather,
## handcuffs? even better.
## boots drawn tight, fishnet spread sky high
## blue bites, bruises and banter,
## caramel flare, sunwalk fuck-me eyes,
## scarlet scratches, red of wrestle fever,
## breath, breathe, breather? lay back and dry,
## raw, shaken, glazed, done over in all ways,
## do I got your fire?
## do I got ya phased?
## shuttle vive on the tip of our lives...
## honey, time and taste, body sore for days,
## this? that's just the thin of it

Lock, Stock and Smoking Burdock

2013-08-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

#
##
### Lock, Stock and Smoking Burdock
####

## how's the weather your way?
## ain't I got you pegged, Swim?
## ain't I got no other way?
## spin the trig wheel,
## getta mig feel,
## knurling finish the plays,
## hot breath of dew,
## bounces of body bruise,
## lips track the back of neck,
## fingers seem to wonder,
## wet sweat red ravish and fight, "o mother",
## eyes res, eyebright,
## off the cuff,
## I'd show you love like no other,
## frolic the prairies down under,
## softer sight, (rose)hips whylde in white,
## hilt, tilt, legs shake,
## make a scene, light a match, walk away
## heir the fuzz of photo fades,
## sun scald, Gilligan's Island laze,
## missed you there, Swim,
## missed you evening way,
## so it's sewn,
## in your waters I'd bathe,
## true blue, be me of you, so to say

Fenceline Fires

2013-08-05T08:28:00.001-07:00

#
##
### Fenceline Fires
####

## incadescendt luminescendt
## who the eff am I?
## twenty odd, pushing the blocks of thirty,
## off kilt, tricked out lit up stilts,
## perfectly sane, obstensively nutso, but eccentrically whylde,
## the curves of black top wood carver photographs,
## meld the wooly night howls,
## high end heathen things,
## deli town fades,
## delta redrown in lace,
## wet stick blades auto pilot the lathe,
## diamond burrs, hydraulic blades, carbide fangs,
## ace of trades, spice of spades,
## hence the hints of Jack, I'm all the rave,
## cool copper crush, rush,
## wire wheeled brush,
## nights of linseed and linen,
## off 5th avenue,
## caramel cruise in glaze,
## coal forge highline days, boxcar
## cherry must, a striker's bust, what a crust,
## "a wine 'o neer", betcha came to say,
## hawk friar, bound fray, market briar,
## red rose legs, cut up days,
## rebar round t-bar fenceline fires,
## sunfowler, Miss Flower...
## clutch, ground pepper, smiles and such,
## push pull, sea salt, bloody tough
## how could I write so much?
## say, hey wanna go ....?

Awesome Blossom

2013-08-04T20:09:00.001-07:00

Dusted Bedspread; No Mo Show, Underground I Go

2013-08-04T13:45:00.001-07:00

I can't save anyone,
words, here I thought, were prized,
disguise, disgusted,
dials go copacetic,
inflammed with poor pooled tinsle of time,
stoked haze weeded prism spackle,
what words these mean?
color, crime, dry counties, vined,
draw a crowd,
racey lavender looped lace,
necktie party,
every branch dreaded deadened,
oil painted wondress,
dead in, done young, wonderless
world so so young, dead in woodless,
ramped strive,
circa circa wasted lives,
vapor lock,
cocaine rocks,
fuck the ocean divide,
short resist impedance mismatch,
vector bound silly town iconoclast,
no mo show,
gagas go,
all outbound request lost to redress,
even many endless might,
caught glass cusp, bled all night,
doorknob keepsake,
stage prescience, lost lineage,
never never will you ever,
see me much more.
press pearl change.
dial mode, echo quit.
crepe
creep
creepy
creepster
creeping
creepstud
justcreep
horrid injustice,
sickly I will draw away this irrelevant day,
folly fort, bucket kick,
nail hanging fit,
fine six foot of rope do a trick,
one quick ivory break,
come down added angle left stake,
drown bound water cake,
nothing matters shoulder to it,
much like nothing mutters,
worthless shit,
cough, cry, whistle.
stand, stood, barefoot thistle.
this my legacy?
this my grail?
tempered,
what a whimpered pathetic end to it.
most love expression binds mediocrity best,
I channel a waterpiped purple river,
words umpf travel roober,
express, flaunt, reveal,
the incandescence of vivrant luminescence,
hazel roselike, watercolor empty paintbox,
scaffold, skew, canvas lake,
no other being brought rangelikeaffect,
ignore,
ignore,
ignore,
report u,
what a sad divisor,
really?
new trash can fit.
more perfect yet.
all paths: short, burnt, unpassable
pipe dev null
jump none
0 ...
0 ...
0 ...
... ...
never anything there,
no call, no return,
no stack pointer, tree retracement,
pathetic as far as the eye can see,
shoulda never,
never should have ever,
values in your currency,
deads done gun cafe,
crater done from imploding impasse,
neck twist over this,
shake fits, formalize quits.
the curbs re-entrant, re-edge, arc out,
while 1:
break continue
while true:
break continue
while...
machine coded return(<0),
why?
segmentation fault,
kernel panic,
power down

Memories of a Cold Call

2013-08-04T12:18:00.001-07:00

As you know, Candace, this was you.

Those words, "Who Am I Talking To?" came from these three papers. Written long before I knew of you. In hovered body tones, I scrawled this in the dead of night, not knowing who I was talking to. It crystallized when we crossed; it was you. I put this to rest. I haven't reread them, but read them you will never do.

TRUNK FAILURE.
CALL TERMINATED.

Nightcap; "That's it, I'm done"

2013-08-04T10:55:00.003-07:00

barefoot,
thistle be the end of it,
white window out over looks,
snow show, fuzzy static bottoms,
perched on bourbon drifts,
planks can't hold my decomp stank,
roving rivers, metal clank,
"show me that farm",
this is me,
extremely specific who words flowfrom,
von voyable boyish dialogue,
I'll warn you over with this, kid...
thistle be the last of it...
much hell to pay in the impending years,
doom, gloom, mushroom blooms,
everybody's gettin' rich,
much blood spilt over dwindling "this is the rest of it!?",
the jist of it,
up to fifteen calories hydrocarbon energy for every food calorie under florescent outlet chains,
ninety-seven percent of all transport energy is oil,
that's globalization,
the supply lines fail,
starve you me, famine worldwide,
plagues will spread,
body parties high like coats on bed,
I still assume it's not you reading this,
a closer six degrees than any ole kid,
either way I should apologize, formerly so,
my sense of venue, improper,
I admit, a capricious disregard,
echos, can-rattling peripheral like things,
people talking shop,
people talking shit,
insensitive, yes, perfectly so,
frankness in the closeness of strangers,
matter of hours,
the branch collapses,
1932 bridge loses to the storm,
circuit unwound, unwires, unadorn,
I am responsible for something extraordinary,
not by choice of me,
the bain of my existence it will be,
I can't say across this rotten lightscape,
what I necessarily need to,
but I need you to help me save our day,
I'm accustomed to disappoint,
don't matter, justa shame really.
never never have I ever written in this domain before,
aside from this, I can't appreciate anything that I write,
words I wrote for you were hastily trashed...
when you told me to get lost,
my "good riddance" was too sharp,
knee-jerk feelings I reacted with,
my words,
very hairy narrow shelf lies,
rapid photon decaying half-life,
miss, mist abroad,
I pray you find harbor in a safe state,
pink thistle this become,
the end of it, wink whistle,
curl that crumb, be a bit of it,
I can't say when the shit winds come,
or how long they'll stay away us,
horizontal verizon crutched,
card towers cough and fall and crush,
hairy cornfed meated butch,
I see colors...
balancing the very same bubble,
suspended in the duty of the level,
language is steady social concepts we distort over time,
language evolves through abuse of grammar, word and form,
what I wrote for you...
(I can complete sentences and speak coherently, you know?)
...was something else.
never have I written so lavishly,
hours upon hours upon hours,
finally that voice felt captured,
no more low throated groans over the void,
my desires, needs and wants,
satisfied by chirping away a limestone channel,
a potential electric passageway,
you between me,
"editing photos"
those channel changes accentuate your colors,
your aura, your magic,
always there,
a camera captures your uptoday emotions in physical ancillary tones,
the lens, no matter the operator,
weights the pure you in pixel form,
sorry, I'm an asshole
callously publicly your blues,
look, see, everything you consume, you reciprocate, rebroadcast,
everything you eat, watch on the tele, drink, converse about, you consciously tell the world, "I believe in this!"
it comes out as subtlties,
second changes in form,
butterfly wings,
energy is the delimiter,
where you invest, I can plainly see,
I can't close you on me,
I know you, I do, I promise, it's true,
no beggar, come and see,
won't you marry me?
... or coffee, which ever it be.
"tell me you don't like my necktie"

Rockbed Ring Lit Crux

2013-08-03T23:42:00.001-07:00

ways which fabric falls,
water like white noise,
the tourniquet signed, draws,
off broadway boys,
barbed-wired in bind,
vines of these seering signs,
heed much to sex exhaust,
forever irreverent my tale with bee,
hocked purple, eggplanted skipped out tones,
she...
even brevity meant much to me,
wish, wonder,
move right sunstrite,
hope o cupcake evening delated delight,
how prepon actuarion, eva meesles make roam,
haylow ether drift,
end wheeled culpable castor slip,
watched, timed, toned,
heavy meather rockers of bone,
the waited wife of wonder,
waistline body glover,
sheets gripped, unscript
burn eights, eyebrights,
nightshade ain't rich, ain't ripe,
crimson brass heavy days,
be right, just might,
make heavens upon heavens in days,
haylow starry show,
how could I know?

Simple River Character Flaws

2013-08-03T23:07:00.000-07:00

"I don't think God's interested in me, Father"

2013-08-03T22:38:00.004-07:00

It ends the way this begins.

C'est la vie

2013-08-03T21:48:00.003-07:00

hooked prized tones,
weighted worry crossed neuron lines,
pin fall,
wet fire pit, stalked in demon howls,
that ain't no dog,
slippery hammer skin fooled hands,
mountain shaped shutters drawn tight,
pinball fiery ebbs, hushed flows,
hawking wolf step studded stanzas,
hell resides in the cushions of my life,
thru the static that night,
deliberate evil,
rocked binged bloody blight,
a legacy, my dull catalogue of common gripes,
cherry embers, cosy amber hairline fracture,
talking cheap, leet speak,
how am I to know?,
wet thumb print when whistle goes,
dice toss to first frost,
rub red dress rampant hot mess,
lividly unkempt,
so borough sober woe,
sea wine must as my lavish last throw,
charcoal it sparkles, sprinkles,
part fulls,
since the wolves'll be comin' for me,

Curiously Improper

2013-08-03T21:13:00.000-07:00

these be the terms of my life,
end like all things,
dread, digress, decrees,
coughed up lime,
untread undead, still time,
the banks hit on swollen whiskey lips,
I don't even like this shit,
horrid spell, bathtub drain'll tell,
markup putrid spit,
vomit, all of it,
hasty scrawl on bedroom walls,
"Goodbye, Summer"
no further sprawl, unfolded, befall,
no, not this trip,
take me back portal awes,
saw this shrewd,
halfwise,
sunflower stardust chew,
the veins of these ashes,
crowd out battered eye lashes,
the purity you speak,
a story I never get to keep,
to formalize your legs, thighs
a grand sheet of great lines,
rx your tx, honey,
words don't write, you didn't rub yourself at night,
this last footage,
if I ever uncover, those thighs,
that wonder,
I'll tongue sure the purest colors of thee

Incandescent Luminescence

2013-08-03T20:05:00.004-07:00

Incandescent Luminescence...
August 3, 2013 at 1:02pm

winds up,

aqua to a sandburst throat,
not fooled, no fata morgana here,
caramel cruze,
seal this with a cooked out coffin nail,
the mirror line is in all things,
left and right,
rue maroon cabin fever light,
across it, I see so dazzled out,
tricked up, glass kicked out light,
arrays of your delight,
circle stacked piano gradient hue,
bit shifted bottles blue,
degree packed V,
angles, dontcha see?
heat pack, ip packet
perceptive eclectic overview,
tossed segments from the rings you wear,
addage the ode iddge...
picture grand alphabet soup,
you never said nothin',
never had to,
forex trade, baby.
spiral stepped arbitrage,
bank wall to wall maybe,
funny fata mirage,
maybe you,
culpepper ruse, lady.

arbitrage.

Well Damned

2013-08-03T19:59:00.000-07:00

heavy sever backside main,
see you topside,
ivory chlorine hated pillowed speak,
where window washings vanish vain,
which lives are lifed beside,
aurora strudded stain,
don't know which,
my shadow or his,
devil's tongue, he hurts just one,
often praire cherry filter kiss,
relapse, collapse scatter,
what of me, am this?
hunts the false sea in november,
this, ironed farce fadded endeavor,
can attest,
can chest no one,
chastise just one.
deep breaths pinch my air sockets,
pilgrim, singer, soldier, slug,
coffin nails, fuzzy pockets,
difference none.
a bought farm needs no one.

Cast Iron Edge Wedge

2013-08-03T19:43:00.000-07:00

Forgotten then.

For Once I'm Awake

2013-08-03T19:38:00.001-07:00

Under Toes & Eyes Covered In Moss

2013-08-03T19:36:00.000-07:00

silly scuff-like skews,
hairpinned turnbound, roller ray down,
hitched half hatch crafted,
trade scarce arsenic pink,
deep entrails, darkness wept,
salt licks, beach 'round kicks,
quicksand mouthed around
hunter strifed coffin light,
wins wings ways,
under breath of tonight,
tossed, scorched, blisted buster,
hell, another month tougher,
sorrow fed forced cotton mouth,
poor dear food we feast,
slaughter lavish eats,
greased out, spit up, tar pits,
bound by seas, this east,
autumn follied falls,
catch drift,
bed rocked tiff

Just As Well Caramel Cruze

2013-08-03T19:16:00.001-07:00

Improper Venue/Culpepper Ruse

2013-08-03T19:00:00.002-07:00

hey say the corduroy,
feathered, quantered,
drew berry autumn blues,
here here campfire caramel cruze,
wash lights, echo nights,
farewell another collapsed branch,
fractured fractal nowhere's edge,
hi temp arcs meld straits plane eights,
butchered and buggered, stabled ranch,
here's to you, Culpeper Ruse,
brick strict struct backs,
boldly no one,
palmed treeline coverage cropped,
just stop.
as you wish, so it's done.
"didn't mean to hurt no one"
here still, be residue of you.
never have I written so eloquently,
never have I written so consistently original,
never have I spoken so truly,
never in another have I found myself,
never anyone, move me as much as you,
candle lines behind thine eyes,
those palmed cheeks,
event horizon drift,
I knew you without a cordial invitation,
I know chemical etches of those copper lines,
I know you, shame I never did.

2013-08-03T02:49:00.001-07:00