Out of night, into World

A girl screams and

the dog night howls-

bruised

fatigued, lapping

up

palatable blood-iron

Rust and red matted

fur wet with birth

 

The animal moon

is slowly stolen from

beaten sky,

cooing-

Obedient and shy

– cowering quietly before

dawn

and Her white fecund arc

awake precious child,

She, who is the maker of demons…

;and the oracle of fate

Will now decide yours…

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accretion

the falling.

the ground falling.

the ground falling into air.

the ground falling into air that’s blue.

the ground falling into air that’s blue and murderous.

the ground falling into air that’s blue and murderous and letting go of stars

the ground falling into air that’s blue and murderous and letting go of stars into the corners of night.

into the corners of night they are swallows

{ lyres arced in plummet

 

the souls

and into the souls

and into the souls of nothing

and into the souls of nothing they climb

and into the souls of nothing they climb like irrational children

and into the souls of nothing they climb like irrational children in a tree swing

and into the souls of nothing they climb like irrational children in a tree swing branched over death

branched over death they are alive

{ hands grasping at now

 

 

 

the color i

as white waits

for the color i, lying

forty five degree feet

angling for sleep

paleness peering under

a cover, naked but for cold

skin- thinking is for thinking

into dreaming that death

for a moment sleeping

is already until dawn

mute and unapproachable.

Sir Fredrick

On top is a hat with

a whip and a staff-

under is an orchestra

of anamalia at the whim

at front who sits

are the amused of eyes

a,gaze into the wonder of control,

precise is the taming

of ”shrewds,” succinctly

swooned by their own

scent of achievement

 

Look at such mastery of beast!

This master of breeds

capable of such deeds

as slicing flesh with the flick of a paw

or crush of weight with a toe afore

a hoof into death, a tooth into

skull -oozing brain into mouth

with a lick and a grin-

Oh how we win! We win!

 

For sweet is the sight of Fredrick

Sir Lion- led by the neck and

roped to a hand under a hat

topped with black

 

It’s the arena that roars when

Fredrick that speaks under

persuasions of quick leather

cracked upon his cheek

now sit [now stand]

now bow to hand and staff

and leather strand!

 

but wait,has happened-

is something wrong? Sir

Fredrick growls and low

gnarls his teeth hushing

the crowd as head with

hat and leather strap hasn’t

the spine of seconds back

 

 

 

 

 

Sir Fredrick enough has had

and turns the tables of this affair

and narrows his eyes at hair

under hat as if to say

taking I is that

 

and then with revenge

and wild, Sir Fredrick did

just as said and leapt himself

on hat and head dislodging scalp

from skull and stood proud

once- and more, as now

the hat lay bloodied and torn

promptly resting asunder

upon Sir Fredrick’s performance floor

 

Who knew that pride left of room

made the sound of a gasping

vacuum, sucking screams through

the neck of panic and howl -all

as frightened feet

consume under shoe

including anyone whose

unfortunate occurrence has found

a place closer to door than who

they that sat so amused

,at Such a show! Such an

orchestra of control!

 

of achievement smelling rich!

with precision and boosting of

accuracy unknown )with a whip

under a hat topped with black

now bloodied asunder upon

stage skull under

paw-

while tooth upon hangs

the scalp once proud the perch

of black top hat

 

Alas, Sir Fredrick takes his bow-

and with a lick and a grin

growls his mightiest growl

while the shouts crowded within

scream, “You win! You win!”

the gray electric mind

what

was it said

that that man said

once slow and waiting

for the words hanging in

mid air, the sentence fragments

pieced and parted for assembly

elsewhere

such as in the folded gray electric,

generating perception fields ripe for

harvest with swift sickle, like the razor

moon open slicing ineffaceable night, the

ocean wanting- wishing it was thus the

institute evening, making rough copies of

everything even darkness as sea emulates sky

the morning seems forever the other side of a

glass marble- rolling round an inevitable funnel,

finagling dawn to follow all poached like an egg

Relativity

if

i

were a fly

id

know just how

precious time

[a commodity was

for understanding

the

nature of, and

if

i

were a whale

id

find space

indelible from

even flying tocks

the ticking

cloak over

happens,

In my little fortress

in my little fortress I dance

In my little fortress I dance wildly

i dance alone

i dance mildly

like a rat i snivel upon the corners

of my constituency of sympathy

 

they are the corners of a loneliness

that seeks the joy of itself

as only alone

is as free

as free is nothing but yourself and god

 

A god within which i dance,

within which i dance round,

as if my soul hung loosely about

My vibrating torso

flung closely inside

writhing limbs of uncertain

in movements

o f origin

 

But certain is the thought of an original act

without presentiment

I found

I dance

without audience

I find hope to fear no folly

in my little fortress I dance

In my little fortress I dance wildly…