golden menhirs
with spiky caps of moss
the vast hornéd herds
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Saturday, November 28, 2009
charity fundraiser thru Dec 23
http://dreamsandnightmaresmagazine.blogspot.com/2009/10/third-annual-dn-charity-fundraiser.html
Lifetime Subscription!
Lifetime Subscription!
he's a star now
underground hits
drip-water motes
gleam in headlamp's trembling beam
mushrooms fill cupped palms
they say his sanguinary ghost
still roams beyond the light
drip-water motes
gleam in headlamp's trembling beam
mushrooms fill cupped palms
they say his sanguinary ghost
still roams beyond the light
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Bring lotion
Hamilton Beach
Darling,
the way you partially incinerate
my bread, even pumpernickel,
your svelte form,
gleaming in the morning sun
You launch my breakfast
and me at the world,
please be mine forever,
I will always keep you free of grime,
I will always provide alternating current
to your heart's content
if you will pledge yourself to me.
end
Darling,
the way you partially incinerate
my bread, even pumpernickel,
your svelte form,
gleaming in the morning sun
You launch my breakfast
and me at the world,
please be mine forever,
I will always keep you free of grime,
I will always provide alternating current
to your heart's content
if you will pledge yourself to me.
end
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Heterochrony fibonacci-no ku
on reflection
tied
to
the past
time takes wing
on reflection lines
converge, butterflies alight as
trilobites, which crawl dawnward to Singularity
end
tied
to
the past
time takes wing
on reflection lines
converge, butterflies alight as
trilobites, which crawl dawnward to Singularity
end
Sunday, November 22, 2009
wot Creationists don't want you to know
Heterochrony
Tied to the past,
The future spreads wings like chronoscopic threads:
A gossamer dream of polychronic flight.
The present is a node or prism,
Through which kaleidoscopic butterflies
Pass fleetly into a convergent past,
And, metamorphosing into trilobites,
Crawl downward to oblivion.
Publ. Twisted #3, 1986
Tied to the past,
The future spreads wings like chronoscopic threads:
A gossamer dream of polychronic flight.
The present is a node or prism,
Through which kaleidoscopic butterflies
Pass fleetly into a convergent past,
And, metamorphosing into trilobites,
Crawl downward to oblivion.
Publ. Twisted #3, 1986
Saturday, November 21, 2009
post-mortem
Untitled
in the pool,
your oculars grew a pelt
of crystals:
you were blind.
in the pool,
your joints furred with diamonds:
you were lame.
in the pool,
your carapace drew on a new cloak:
you were anonymous.
Part of "the crystalline pool," first published in Aoife's Kiss.
in the pool,
your oculars grew a pelt
of crystals:
you were blind.
in the pool,
your joints furred with diamonds:
you were lame.
in the pool,
your carapace drew on a new cloak:
you were anonymous.
Part of "the crystalline pool," first published in Aoife's Kiss.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
can I do it in the South?
http://docs.google.com/Doc?docid=0Aau-lWFdN9YoZGZnMjJ2emRfMGcyaGJkcGhx&hl=en
It's cute to see the blind men describe the elephant. Good, though.
It's cute to see the blind men describe the elephant. Good, though.
flash science fiction story
"Hotel Antarctica" is my new story about geology and microscopes. http://www.dailycabal.com/
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Friday, November 13, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
slushpile etc
Mostly caught up on reading subs; will do more today.
85 & 86 full; reading for 87.
Start laying out 85 end of this month.
85 & 86 full; reading for 87.
Start laying out 85 end of this month.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
say ah
I think we are all Robbies on this rocket
it's
all
circuits
and flashing
lights under my skin
Dr., what a strange glow you have
it's
all
circuits
and flashing
lights under my skin
Dr., what a strange glow you have
Monday, November 9, 2009
from the vault
The Conspiracy Unmasked
"Take a letter," he said
To a small lump of lead,
While the typist reclined on the couch.
"Address it to me,
"And refer to the sea,
"And tobacco that's kept in a pouch."
The sensuous fern,
Wove in its urn,
A tale of drunken disorder.
The clock struck fourteen,
Said something obscene,
And the cuckoo performed it to order.
He slumped to the desk,
So she stripped off her vest,
And draped it on top of the door.
She then followed suit,
Except for one boot,
With the rest of the clothes that she wore.
She reclined in the nude,
And thought about food,
While the cuckoo clock started to smolder.
The bird gave a leer,
And murmured, "my dear,"
"If only I weren't so much older."
"Where's that letter?" he cried,
With eyes that were wide,
And he leaped to his feet in a fright.
He could see that she knew,
It was inside her shoe,
"Could you help me? It's just a tad tight."
He pulled the boot free,
She said, "goodness me,"
As he staggered and fell through the glass.
They found her in York,
Drinking gin with a stork,
Two penguins, a duck, and a bass.
"Oh no," she protested,
"Don't have me arrested,
"I betrayed him, but not of free will.
"The cuckoo's the one,
"It did it for fun,
"And because it is mentally ill."
She spoke at the trial,
For quite a long while,
But the clock took the fifth on the stand.
The girl was acquitted,
The clock was committed,
For such was the law of the land.
Title poem of 1994 Dark Regions Press collection (my third chapbook)
"Take a letter," he said
To a small lump of lead,
While the typist reclined on the couch.
"Address it to me,
"And refer to the sea,
"And tobacco that's kept in a pouch."
The sensuous fern,
Wove in its urn,
A tale of drunken disorder.
The clock struck fourteen,
Said something obscene,
And the cuckoo performed it to order.
He slumped to the desk,
So she stripped off her vest,
And draped it on top of the door.
She then followed suit,
Except for one boot,
With the rest of the clothes that she wore.
She reclined in the nude,
And thought about food,
While the cuckoo clock started to smolder.
The bird gave a leer,
And murmured, "my dear,"
"If only I weren't so much older."
"Where's that letter?" he cried,
With eyes that were wide,
And he leaped to his feet in a fright.
He could see that she knew,
It was inside her shoe,
"Could you help me? It's just a tad tight."
He pulled the boot free,
She said, "goodness me,"
As he staggered and fell through the glass.
They found her in York,
Drinking gin with a stork,
Two penguins, a duck, and a bass.
"Oh no," she protested,
"Don't have me arrested,
"I betrayed him, but not of free will.
"The cuckoo's the one,
"It did it for fun,
"And because it is mentally ill."
She spoke at the trial,
For quite a long while,
But the clock took the fifth on the stand.
The girl was acquitted,
The clock was committed,
For such was the law of the land.
Title poem of 1994 Dark Regions Press collection (my third chapbook)
Sunday, November 8, 2009
In which an unwitting wanderer becomes acquainted with the yellow sign
The night-lost soul anticipates no harm,
Until a gelid hand falls upon his arm.
Until a gelid hand falls upon his arm.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
My latest audio poem
Audio of "Good will from Cylinder 7" 9 min 20 sec into Beammeup podcast http://beameup.podomatic.com/entry/2009-11-07T17_34_58-08_00
Friday, November 6, 2009
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
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