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The Trial
In the feeble mind of an addictthe world is but a gunshot.He watches the body falllimp into the hands of semanticsthen waits for it to rot.-Each day he counts the ...
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Sokushinbutsu(A Hieroglyphic Suicide)
frail fuck, she's noxious and intoxicating a lip biting introvert chewing conversation like mental masturbation slowly, the image has to set I'm throwing up blood in regret an etymologist and ...
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In Tribute to Harry Crosby: The Mad Queen's Forever Fever
(Note: PLEASE READ. Have noticed, on this site, that certain members continue to perpetuated a dogmatic institution and impression upon poetry without knowledge of WHY, thus it's dogmatism. Do NOT ...
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Sweat laced,
her skin spins (over) itself like webs, or covers, oceans of satin and dew, streaks a cross ___________(over) miles of windowpane reflecting surface like suffrage ...with a molotov and parade ...
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A love poem, or something(else)
A large mess. An apple skinned and left to sink, rotting into the table, some transmutation of wood to worm, fruitless. The core is gone with some formeldahyde and a ...
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Human, or Something like it
Tourniquets strapping solar systems of vein like constellations to the shit black of gallow arms. A whisper of an alm passed in starlight, by starlight, through starlight. Bled clean at ...
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A Triune(of fate's call)
Nothing so dead about the place. Rat fingers. Estrogen and speckle crust. Reap from the eyes, open those walls, like curtains to neuropeptides, renovate that pasty red to the toxic ...
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Day Breaks Night to the Flying Serpent (Diction; Death.)
(Lulz. Had some fun with the title.)I went to the market.A man asked me for changeand I knew I was moving. He asked me for a letterso I handed him ...
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For Kamas
This is something called the "Hourglass Formula". It's an excercise in experimental poetics and circular form. It must be read twice through with attention payed to what I call the ...
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Sage Francis Emulation(critique as poem, or lyric)
I alone await patient dawnwatching lightmold creep on my corpse of a lawnwar of roses, feudal flowers fruitless.Futile was my prowress to harvest your love,useless.Dovestungdead, that's the sacrifice,