February 9, 2017

4 R selves : in forage elven glen iron horsed swath rich air

Chronos=culls=chalice bones being such 
as bottom feeding comfortable security : 
We R carp 
day 2 night ether 
birth role death 
inside glass 
concentric breaths ...

languages : 
organ articulate dreams 
seek the night 
2 fight a seedy apocalypse 
it's an elliptical heavy drinker 
a feted fetid fomenter 
it's a rancid roiling slow ruin ...


the hidden code works have been trip wired 
led lights fights inside the molecules 
atomic cats empty electron shacks 
we R now rolled bones 
strolling skin 
walking  soul 
art & avail ...

sail cloth wedding gowns U swore never to wear 
without leather platform calf boots 
that matched Your mood doom 
when any joy to doom mood struck 
such is Life with Love rife 
with hidden instant karma birth moments ...

in a ribbon-ed vein 
of just in case of emergency, You siren me, pleas of
please break My mother fucking glass 
& free My soul, U dig happenstance? ... 

the poem ends Winter again 
conifer low tide, rain & beaches 
viral creations 
reaches like dolls we make 
spoken into wholly 
whole from holey again 
We eventually did 
run mules 
over bridges 
in that crept Spring 
in that nearing distance 
of a future poem 
and its pulse membranes 
a wet snow 
thunder We huddled 
beneath instead 
bloom, blanket. bled ...



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    1. Well, carp eat crap ... and we humans seem to have adapted to that lifestyle very well ... one more well and we have three holes in the ground ...