Eager Chores

Wednesday,
April 27, 2011

4:04 PM

4/27/2011 4:05 PM

…and
so thrusting the bitter breaks the space.

In the every-day
ether, the medium is the experience
between we the perceivers,

any flow from our
writhing gut-checks the instant with a zero sum-cycle loop reduction

to assuage the
visceral of immediate-reaction redacting contractual synapses.

Snare drums
clickity-clack, at a tatters tattoo, rat attack, at that a soot panting  pre-amplified pattern actual, Champagne.

Hard pride am the
man who stands before you, never had a chance to go after the grail or grow
oranges.

With a face like 60
years of waking up still tired, grim lines abrasive to time, as if it could
only be conceived so simple if my arms were enough to fight back and strangle
the personification of

bland cruel
worthless universe wanking our souls on to an empty canvas with no frame, and
no statement, just animals comparing the taste of their favorite foods to the
feeling they get when their bodies betray them, like nearly stomaching the sour
flavor of rancid corn spiced with gristle fat from non-dharmic creatures of
lifelong containment, and its stuck in my teeth, what a smell, the decay inside
you.

6/3/2011 8:58 PM

For a free metered
mode of expression, It’s completely unlikely we ever stumble across the context
fence post, which divides the line in the sand from the unifying sedimentary
consolidation of pressured compactual’s, crystalline unhindered by the contact
of like mounded molecules indifferent to the metamorphic, thinking about
changing shape, you could relate to concrete abstracted by wet cement chaos
interactions, child sized hands, life was here, then it dries up, and all the
while the igneous down at city hall funnel money away from roads and sidewalks
to buy hookers and wet cocaine.

6/13/2011 4:34 PM

Not today, a little
line, g o  s l o w l y.

Wilt offends the
better image, photograph of a gondola, cart on wire,

the mountains
between the fore and background makes you think that space has meaning, why?
Because it’s bigger than me.

A light off write
off.

True.

7/9/2011 11:43 PM

Stop thinking about
me, please.