stupid looks from the half dead

emerging from a 1000 year symphony

another impotent place

second only to

sacrificial manifestos

in as much as

it depends on institutional plush chairs

which are 105 watt light bulbs


continuously burning

leftovers from leftovers

cut in half

punctuated by language

burning in

cant see enough of those

plastic felt tip makers and portable stereo headphones

which moves some to

uncontrollable laughter

at the edge of a carnivorous problem

left with only a memory of food and water

and words like


good enough

let me hit you before you hit me

which has a certain . . . . . real time transgression

a thought of a thought within assisted religion

which is nothing more then

a compulsion for elimination

a desire for order

prefabricated sunshine

served cold in the days of digging badgers

all in a place called

an endless summer

limited only by bank accounts,

wiggly redemption books,

and bouquet of poets

meandering in buckets of cheese