MORNING AFTERZ

Nothing holds together anymore

The glue in the gut is gone


Spinning around - and away from Center

Burning the ground through the roof

Tuesday November 8: The wine won't drink itself to sleep

Let the stain set on in

For

Nothing else will last the night

Arcs are Arcs

The acid clenches its ice too far

From the snot to the curve of the arm

Maybe I swam that entire lake

And maybe I just drank it all down



So the numb comes in far too late

To scrub away the tricks of the past

The ridiculous rage that ebbed over floes

In oblivion the daylight expires

Anatomy

Stuffed full of acid

I cannot feel my teeth

Braced within this cage of bone

Sleeping off

What the day long makes

According to my Watch

Pressing the breath on deep

To keep feet grounded - right here


Fumbling the key

To hold the door closed


There is still time

We said We said We Said

Autumn -----

Opposing Pressures produce

The Dawn of the Brace of the Past


Reducing the order to what you see

Just to - stack expectations - below

Sunlight Filters Itself

From this Pain I shall not Die

But it might be worth the Try

For all I've not endured

But Gotten By

It would be Justified!

Now Sleep It Away

Now - the numbers fill up to the roof

And concentration holds sleep at your wrist

Crunching the lines, and the ways to have not

And - meanings topple against what was once wall

Arrived

A brick is a thing a thing
A thing between
You and me

The sun is a star of heat
And ire above what
We can see

While all the day the day
The day creeps to
Shore the fuel

When all the lay of what
We say goes skittering
Into the fire

Saturday evening

Breathing the water out
Takes concentration for
The fever within
When rocks and shells work their way
To your toes
While glass can't break
The surface
In

Atlantic p. 80

Every wire - a nerve

And every Nerve - a fire

Forcing through - the electric skin

Bundling back to - serve

3hakc

The strayed concentration

Of crafting the mask

Meets blankness in the light of day

For all of the layers, and flesh of greys -

Comes undone with the shade, and gaze

 

The straight concentration

The pressures of day align

With the pressures of night - to day

When the urges of light

Merge the shadows of pathos

The hours seem longer - than staying

10 - **

Dawn, and blue skies and beaches and sand

That covers your calf and slips down your arm

The memories of safety and shelter - betray

The storms of the embedded,

The Eyes in the waves

-

That History follow you, even here

20 (is about right)

If there's nothing left to say

Then what you said before

And what you said before


With the windows up,

We whisper and squint

We - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

POEZIYA

ничего ничего 

никогда нигде нитам 


низдесь нитуда ни о ч

ем, ни у чем ни с ч

ем, ни к чем, нининини 

отокувсюду 



не значит

five, september

Crowds have their wisdom

In burning the space

That for you meant oxygen

For the fire - disgrace

Hack 3

The strayed concentration

Of crafting the mask

Meets blankness in the light of day

For all of the layers, and flesh of greys -

Comes undone with the shade, and gaze

 

19 why would you want to face

why wouldn't you want to face

the doors without to stay

when the corners of a room can hide so much

and sleep - keeps thoughts at bay

21, hit

Turn out the lights

And got to bed

The dark will stay tonight



In the drawer

And sheeted sweat

Under the cover of sleep



Wait for morning

If now you can

- Wait for the dark to light

What we know...

What we know is what they know

And what everyone knows - now

the smoking gun - the conceit of the heights

to looks down means not looking up

#4

The crystallization - of time

The transportation - of the words

That all fall out when you shake them up

And left - a name - to stay

August - 15 -15

The eyes have eyes have eyes have eyes

And brains - to squeeze and smell

If you could escape - the switch of the past

If you could turn the shade - back on

18_Aug / a year and change later

Repetition only - helps

If the muscles - know the game

While here - just spins out

Of pictures - you scratch - again

new short story up online: Daniil Ivanovich Kharms

I wrote a new short story that's made it's way out into the internet tubes - Daniil Ivanovich Kharms.

If you life self-referential fiction that is so self-referential it burns out the sun, check it out over at The Ironic Fantastic #2 (a free ebook).