best I
ever" that stretch
greed falls
from finger to
"the motion,
contracted, stiff" interest't
blanket muffle
(scratch [itch] rancid)
rank'less desire
stiff'd up hostile



opens a
candy bar hands
to C
"mars bar" licking
less new
sugar lips full
slowly out
"and look, at
tradition ambivalent
open desirous shapes
to sucked
on flavor lip
tongue groove
side less angle
divine, baby"
early 'present reached
to love
(ing) bury't are
wrapped aspects
repeating even (ly)


Skyscraper, blue
tango pass night
plumes, leather
head catch elevator

Tunes, catch word
hoard blanket over
skyscraper jelly
wish eye scratch

Ball, every hair
traffic float blue
earth lounge visit
gash light calm

Speck, turning.


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Nitrogen Cube

after Sheila Murphy's _In Three_

in the curio perimeter
throning lily-pad city

egyptian kilroy salut
the barging envoy's
ensalada papier

that so certainly
reproduces the tone
of the geode knotyggdrasil

cinema involuntare
may indeed capture
Lovecraft's Black Goat

to iris the euglena
in tongue radiance

where pelagic mind
herds the prehensile
in first water beatus

and seahorse cortex frond

rhythm embodied
which reach

of ambiguous liveries

or cloned exchange templates
a birth

white dwarf seed
pulling down
the sere sable !tzut!





"Are you ready to believe in god"

she asks

"can you deny the spirit....isolate...the love that was always doesn't matter ....but it kinda does...jesus flavoured prozac pop...artificial sunshine box, what's the matter with you...take a lick...come over...insanity...for reality....believe....of your free will....alien press....candy coat reality with artificail sunshine box....don't be afraid theres a 30 day perception'll never wanna purchase anywhere else" (

She speaks
as the half tuned voice
of a violin

plays with sound
and one
ocean mirror wave
above all else

discovers a heirarchy of alliance
in stag phantoms
dancing natures storm
present to oneness and the

"teacups" that "spill"

on a north wales train journey
terminating in england's midlands
and depths unrivaled
in shore stripe star born bars
of legendary men's minds

whose passengers paint
an acquired factual myth basis
for personae profundus
warbling bass rich imaginings
commuter existences wish could be so.


Whassup wiv wannin' to 'ave a giggle 'n that?
Answers on the brainwave express to

Battered Blue Tent
Phoenix Park

Only joking artists.

I have been requested
to select poets for the oscars
and am making you aware of this
because I know you all as compotent
live. I have been told to send in audio
so I will do it on Tuesday at the Grammies

Sweeney, Birch and Bung
Philpots will have to be sought.

Anyone seen him yet?
I caught the clearing up at Letterman's
dinner party on Tuesday and he was there
doing post night goodbye chat.

I missed his spot on the previous show

However I did see him the one and only time I MC'd
MTV awards
the eigth time he headlined it

I knew he would be good
coz he came in with no papers
and was completely off page

not that this is a pre-requisite for doing the show
and those who do read need have no fear of being snooted.

Clinton, Stephen and Jim are all brilliant on the page.
And Yvonne and Raymond are also very gifted readers
with solid print reputations to back them up.

Bung was wearing a whitish trakkie
runners and $3 million in bling
on the majority of fingers of both hands.

He blew everyone away
and obviously others want him to fail

A Jah Mon performer performed
what I believed to be
an extemporaeneous freestyle reply to Bung, along the lines of -

"Jah mon
juss calm it dowen
an we can be like they say
in them trees with
them birds and bees
an no guns needed
to be stealin'
or beilievin in yem soul mon."

Jah Mon sat down to cheers from his table of associates
far outnumbering Philpots and his buddy
a large child/man who could have been 17 stone

Bung came right back all word guns a blazin'
accompanied by jerky arm and hands going ten to the dozen with

Mother Fuggin
sock cooker
goan blow you down
with the rhyme soundin'
North, South, East 'n West side loud
coz I don't need to steal no licks
from the punks on the street
or the mother fuggin birds
just gotta be me yeah
so blow goan you way
full time.

The energy in the room at this point was palpable

I was wondering if violence was an option running through the minds of the assembly.

I plugged into the electric and delivered one of my own efforts
the best I had ever done

diffusing the high tension

The night ended with a sing along and Ciaron and Jah Mon hugging.

If anyone can supply the slush fund
please get back to me asap otherwise I will be forced into drastic action

have to expose oprah

with the slim pieces of technoloy
I had implanted

This would be the best option

I also need a tape for Bill

I spoke with him last week and he said if I sent him audio
he would consider using our work

for an enhancement payment of $59billion

If we get a good showing
he will force
them to offer him programme
implantation rights

so we can all get enough of the action
to get at least $2000 billion on the night

when the crashing and burning of armageddon


pretender to the throne
of Homer and William VIII

The Sheer Size of Charles

the first visit, or being there, no equivalence
to being there, an odd block which affords
the notorious to ignore their utilities,
a wedge, a demand upon taking
to the outward return, in time,
in intolerable manners that survive as
this again, this as time, so essentially there



in three

Matisse along
this braced shore

one carves goodbye
trespassing alongside

define better
the collective sand

all movie we
sit still

solace between
condoned sweet speech

one thinks pacific
moments freshen

mind remains
a symptom's delicate

new pace enlisted
by default

committed to
mime nature freehand

or repeated repartee
as if

way toward
darkness always hedging

speak unsense
or educate yourself
what words twitch unspoke
enough behind your
eyes don't
swallow them
spill let me feel

snap shut another
nerve what are
you listening to, man?
there's noth
ing but air
and skin bet
weaning off such things


burn the deck
the muse
is not
and behead
the silent



3 asemic remixes
height weight
gales 0.003 unkwa
yegales pyawd

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A "spam in the comments boxes" hay(na)ku

the graffitiists.
Now the merchants

moved in-
to the temple.

will the
money lenders arrive?





disguise the repository
of your throne

and gift the ally

usurp alder
and pomegranate

melt in the western water
with pension plan minstrels
thunderstorm scholars of
blitzkreig trualities
anywherisms and drusha mortal
words lusting for knowledge
quarried from willow birch
and oak

Impress a cold bard sharp symbol
with your mind's cresentic blade
on the whim's edge whose memory of song
enclosure's unshaken star
is husk ringed with weight shells found

Apple of Venus unwanting barborous mind
in wells of known wisdom

transmit saturn through an ash mars
hazel hunt for merman strong rap
only onward christian to gift channels after
midnight, and inject a poem a day
where fringe render lady's superfluous
letters picket obsessed with latex crossing
is the myopic line of rock's talk

Unmask apple trends instances of
inspirationally uncommon sense where proof
is untruth and incurios bone leaf and
bole needs the mysterious fortress
of its soul to return through labyrinths
convened to converge in convoy womb
questions confessional myth laid bare
biography reveal as fiction.

In a succession of picture drawn dust
speckled language spatters lie
saint yesterday's aims elevating
artists in clover stark imagination
with plain void guess sports to unite
loose grass harvest outshoots grazing

in imprint kicks textual values
gracefully tender of spirit split basic
allures and event stag might patient
waves enter outside between
comfortable catchphrases crossing a line
mnemosyne schedules, as ma jarrs to muses
shining on kip roof helicon heights
here in big d

ask W. why he killed her son, why he had to die

Compiled 8/20/2005 9:53:42 PM GMT

The protesters then began chanting, "W killed
her son." ... If he
were any kind
of man, he'd have at least talked to
for a few minutes. This had
better ...
Cindy Sheehan wants to
George W.
Bush why he
killed her
son, why he
had to
Cindy Sheehan sits in a ditch for every mother in this country. ...
Supported by more than 50 demonstrators who chanted, "W. killed
her son! ...
She said Hagin told her, "I want to
assure you that he
(Bush) really does care. ...
Cindy Sheehan holds pictures of her
son as she leads an anti-war march near ...
to ask
the president, 'Why did you kill my son? What did my son die for?"' ...
He said dogs were often killed
there, with their hearts torn out and burned ...
One of her
fourth-grade students who had
been visiting relatives in West ...
Ask not at whom the Chimp smirks; he
smirks at you. ... by one mother who wants
to know why her
son had
to die in a war that has turned out to
be a fraud. ...
Hebert’s parents had
to sign the paperwork for him because he
was only ...
Robin Hebert said her
son joined the Army to
get an education and see the world. ...
Bush has the ring," the demonstrators then chanted, "W. killed
her son. ...
He said that he
understood the "anguish" of families who had
lost loved ones but ...
I had
to go to
Vietnam, and now he’s sending them to
their deaths -- over 1800 so
... Bush has the ring,” the demonstrators then chanted, “W. killed
her son. ...
Somehow I think the woman who lost her
son may be suffering just a bit more ...
you can thank president bush for that...he's the one that bought the ranch ...

a list of things

tasteless blueberry muffin

the scrape of a chair on a hard floor, also the sound of an empty container

a punching bag

a photograph with handwriting on the back

a window to look through and around other people (looking elsewhere) to another window to a face looking into yours

cake with ice cream and a strawberry

new shoes

sugar in packets

undefinable ripple of tension from the lizard brain curdling the skin and turning spastic the muscles of the heart

a cup of coffee and the ring it left behind


the firing of nerve into nerve into nerve into nerve in the hippocampus (seat of memory) shaped unlike anything you've ever seen but maybe deer antlers or also a wishbone

a napkin, folded

the bad woman said - I don't
blame you, really, and I thank
your tactful nose for sniffing
silently but I don't mind it. See
this smell? I think you can it's so
strong and round and fleshed,
it has shape and a way to
speak, eyes, even, and legs. Old
oranges, sour milk, turned eggs,
spoiled fish, that's me
and I love
them all.


trouble w'wakin' up

click to enlarge image


13, 3, p

"you want
it?" compared to
"no path,
none," while sleeping
context overturn
[miserable chain] events
corner "remaining
vague insincere" develop
mode essential
principle no vacuum
"or maybe"
expression declined always
the worthless"
climate heads walls
in fight
following transition imposed
if it's "not
wanted" then 'adried
some foam
sits in empty



trouble w'sleeping'out



afong atechnia
the invious weed
now chucked black
foo will heylle the sipapu
preem gallowing near to
the wheening clodde
bisontine complexity
an obvious nod
true shakes nodality
seeming noctule
by foment against
these blynted aires
corticipetal to the arc
wherein the glat
and glaucodot pair
move within the pygargue
pyetous and flung
atoside the bleaching

at times 
camps fail
and suddenly
cars begin to fall from branches under which
we sit in the shade waiting for

i became lost
and a guide



in each instant we forget

with what
words can we
find an end

the sullen god laughs

Drunk Woman Charged

Drunk woman charged after giving
birth to alligator. Tampering with genetic
messages rumored in Quintana Roo.

--Halvard Johnson


second second
knowledge cringed in

merely freckling ignorance
next second


The Chair

with sitting comes
how far to sink
before reaching up again
to match the needed height
where by all sides
there becomes the one person
or the start of something radial


10X10 trumps 3

le-       '      "     '    \'noita
k o P / _' - n
c _ _, ., ., ` b r
i / . ' / .` ' _ a a
s , ` ,' ` ||\ , . l c
e /' \ ..+\ .'' /|`
e ,+' ". .|' .'' e r
v ,'" ,` - , ' h e
t | ' ` _> t n
g ' ' ' _ . e r
n n b ' _ _ ggs u
i s - - _ ' nni t
m i - , _ , ia
m ' _ _ ' tht a
i s ` ' _ - ecn
l i _ - ' - gxe g
s h _ ` / - dem n
t _ b _' ||| ` i t i
t _ orgy . /\ /' fnr e
t d _ .'forgery . ||'Y oa b
u e _ /||||| - \ -. grp
p v _ :| ||||' . \ -_ nte r
a _ ,'Y||||||, .' -_ icd o
t h _ ,, ||| +\:_' `_ re f
u s _ '' \ .<Xf , _ _ tlr
o ' ,-- . / ' . . sei s
t s , :' \]' /' - . e u
r i .|||||,' .. ,' o[' ` efh o
a n \ ||._'' `` , _u'b rot m
p o `\ Y" \. / '/ e a
s d .._' / . ` '- ' heo f
s A .- , -' .. ,..- wst
a -` / . '`b/ .;\, u n
p n = _ . ,:' ' `, ' aat e
e = / . .Y , _ .; - ecx h
g h = / .L / / . -= . ree t
n w -' = .':_ \ ` `.'_ abn
u .- ='.:. ' \ _ . ,, ' e
o y _, -'L'` ,\ . ` ''' g
y l '' ',d[ \ -. ',- d
n -- 'l"Y . - `` ._' i
y r ,,'t ' :Y|` . _. _ P t
b e '.|a'\."/ , .` ', r
t ,/||| -P// _ o , ' a
n s hi `: ;' ' ; '- P
e s g_ . =',, -._v ,,
h e et i.s. =/ //-. ' i" o
t t nx l.-`_. ' '/. ,l _' g
a ie de-i _. , ,:: ' <'s r
y c lt ss-: _. ' ,./ ,a _/o u
a i dn `' _. , -,'/ ' / B
w n geri '' _- |'..|',s ,b
a r tag `' _" ._ ||' ` f
o niwi_.' " . ' /+ o
k ilor_.' s > , =| g
c t t .-' t - ' `_/ u
u s s .`` e - ,|\ // c a
s e aiy >i' p - > _''i g
o lhl =. m m - -'l n
n l utg =- u c - .'t i
r l m n \` r 3 - _"o l
u e uni 8 t - /o
t f cag " t - f e
ccn_` e f - h
t p asio v e - t
e a s: o l -
y r wn.. m - g
t oa.- e e - n
t sinc."e every v p i
e - .' o o l
p t .` +||||m o f
m h . l f
u g . m u
r i . e h
ten by ten trumps turn roundabout s

Dince Dunec the Dentable Dork Called

A moan poet whose work no one
will riddle

until the global brain
has brought to its chamber of gas
poetics' cold bloodied carcass
attended by a top weight team
of sermon faced sophists
conversing deep in language

beyond non understanding

in a swamp
of post modern thought

addressing webs of hypotheses

resting on the basis of what lies
beyond in the moment
unknown or reached

but connected to now
by the bridge of wisdom
conceived erect with
solid reflexive ideas
and a full support of
conjecture believed to be facts
waiting to be found

once XY and Z turns
to AB and C

when the ustopp
able force of truth turns
reason out on its ear and wel-
comes in Derrida, Baudrillard
Krestiva, Barthes and the Sy-
mphonic absence

usurping 1
2 and 3 into a possible 6 that
may be a 4 or nine depending
on how the colour of
tommorow's noon strikes the
sound of yesterdays light


where onlookers standing in
swamps of complexity
ponder on unbelief and
why the human condition
cannot bend time to its will
with knowledge philospohers
make up in time spent
farming and fishing the
mind of proof for
being essentially moved to
reason the faith of beauty

Ricky's 1999 Schedule

Ricky got off to a fast start in the first half of 1999, but he's scheduled to keep equally busy during the second half of the year.

According to information posted on Ricky's official Vuelve website by his savvy manager Angelo Medina, the entertainer's agenda will include:

  • August 2 - 15: A promotional tour of Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Colombia, Mexico, and Venezuela.
  • August 21 - 31: Promotional tour of Australia, Japan, and other Asian countries.
  • September 1 - 5: Continuation of the promotional tour of Asia.
  • September 6 - 20: Promotional tour of Europe.
  • October 1 - 10: Promotional tour of the United States and Canada.
  • October 11 - 31: Concerts in the United States.
  • November 1 - 6: Concerts in the United States.
  • November 29-30: Shows in Argentina.

Image hosted by

is my daylight

is my daylight = or > your daylight?

I would say equality benchmarks vision,
while all the earth occurs in comparables.

the up and down keys capsize stasis
that primped as some de facto god
before consciousness,
that any shift is spawned by capi-class endeavors,

another way to say that happiness
once thought derivative
now lives unto itself.
the mind can learn to trawl
your equidistant-from-my-lightwave premises,

and standard moments know to cry
when they are stable as they were.

my nights are swollen moments
my inclinations, brass.
these illicit willows, frapped as cloud sores.
and the acreage unsunned delimits sorrow.

the species we are warming is ourselves.

in some frail simulacrum of a universe, I mirror you.

the heartfelt woman said - don't leave
or go or turn or walk i don't see you
come closer don't go stay stay stay there's
nothing for else for me there's nothing for me
or of me can't you see? my heart, precious, my
precious heart for you is all and all i do is pulse,
swell, pulse and feel the wet velvet skin inside
of my inside stay in my skin it's


the underground

the underground he quoted Rove at least
it came out, or
He eventually asked
Then how it he quoted Rove at least
it he was - Anyone who learned that it
Then how it came out, or
He just one or no dialogue. I write
- Anyone who has ever come out, but it makes me feel good. I know
little or two
is proudest of the underground he quoted Rove at least
it makes me feel good. I know
Card Jr. had some candid advice for
- A lot of our mouths. "We speak
he writes which
thing basically

"For all those who think they are scousers" thread@LMC - Ormyboy

Breathe freedom from the night air
force awake memory
move in shadows
joust in the depths

decay in the gloom of
when things were different,
back at the big strike
of opinion
timed to attend corporate events
over pay and conditions
of life in foreign parts

oppressed by the capitalists

Imperialists come
exploit and produce methods of mass consciousness
attempt to bamboozle

offer incentives to wear watches
cotton dresses with tasteful chiffon piping
along the lower quarterly results of
a two way split length trouser suit

in city coupons
waved below the chins
of expectant shop operatives
spade wielders digging the roads of
hopelessness in the new dawn of a bright day

disguise the synthetic irrevocability of light.

Break relationships
tooled at the edge of heaven

Take a semi cut sling back
and cork the soul with a
leather strap cushioned in the foam
of a poster
given free with every purchased gift

Move along the stream of consciousness
and cover in unguarded moments
the passionless act of severing
compuctional thought to the consequent
hold where desire is ransom for a paradise of mockery

Cuckolding dreams reliant on wishful thought
deploy radical terror of purpose and suspect reward
by enjoying the maxims created when
folly is high in the forgotten night
and trust is stolen from faith

uniting the sinking menace of hunger for stuff
with broken mouths of generations recoiled to label.

nothinr to cax


Ground Xerox's Paradox's

crater ------------- crater
creator --------------------- creator
creature ------------------------- creature
cheater ------------------------------ cheater
chatter --------------------------------- chatter
Chartres --------(steve mccaffery)--------- charter
Sartre ---------------------------------- quarter
sutra ---------------------------------- quester
kurta ------------------------------ defter
kefta ---------------------- drifter
kraft ------------ dinner

Just Letters


Werken is dodelijk *)


sound #60
amazing this
radionic tone arm

electric blue

drum and bass

the radius
of awareness

care for another drink?

click image to enlarge>@<


Upon the tide flowing from the summer night
comes love empty of promise
offering no choice
or means to utter a prayer

but swelling the muse shed empty and turned
inside out by a rational process of time

returning its skin

less the bones of battered misgivings
the broken truth fully conceived
swallowed, spat out alone

and searching the mind for a soulmate
when unguarded moments
abandon the impulse of sense.

Untroubled by the pale defeat of ghost light
dawning on past fields of loss
seize the gift of faith
confide in belief
keep counsel with the tree of life rooted in
the heart
and pray for hope

Emerge from the melting absence of a passionate
self yawning awake
and confer change
in the deportment conscious act of deploying
decorum at all time.

Until the final departure is logged, recorded and halts
the call of eternal love

surrender a mystery a day
to what piece of light
switches on god from within


My Special Aztec Dressing Gown.


the dressing gown

Leaves fall away tenderly
from the plan
of obsoulescence
and in the jade
the section
of taste in trilobite

far away some towers
Vaux's Swifts
late night Portland
I am only in me a slang for meteor
@ cuttle
fish-nothing for use
you king's X
Y the soft gene crystal method
Z now
I've lost my soul
shoe on the dancefloor
some man is sneezing
holding a camera

the deft
and nimble

where matter
in eulogy
though the long night
of the filter


the smallest orgasm of stars
spreads within a nebula of tired brains

an array of microwoofers
hovers in a pleasure-dome of XANADU_XENON:

"Love has no ending..."

ghostly bus drivers
milling around the abbatoir


in their beaver-skin nose-skirts..


world reports

simple magi
at no %
bus-link juke
natum videte

aug 10
aug 11
aug 12
aug 13
cracked eddy
surplus deity
eggs leggy
more theorem
less anthem
more harem
less them

The First Meal

At that exact
moment, so says

the waffle, or
the arrangement

of the waffle, "Stop
eyeing me, and

do what
you gotta do."


In the Liffey heartland
of silver dusk
puff in the muses flow, caught
in the fabric of eternity
woven by the city noise of a spiritless existence

shine hope within the stream of delivery
try as never before to trap new Godness

instantly fall in love type words a PC
preacher wondering on every lost site
the earth could offer speaks

recall the last angelic emptiness
to question and break the madness of
mocking will encased in the celluloid of
real thought

kill the odds of persuassion by floating
in the vacum of a clawing absence

award to bodies of wisdom
the shapeless gift of form

Wed in success with devotional claims
of an emerald kink
tip a bardic mask and split
the atmosphere in three parts
then move below the line of song

ride the past language of time
with spook kooky buddhas
the fenachas scribes imbalanced their
squish funky truth for
on the pages time forgot

Burn the duluxe of tormenting light
- golden malt against the grain -
until danger disperses to
an unberbelly of society's pride

vye for life space in a premium detail
found in the rainbows left when dense
linquistic downpours stop and normality
returns through an etymology of made up words
in a dictionary where instinct and mystery
is the proper boss of language

in the boardroom of needs
muster enthusiasm to a cause greater than
the wash of geezer beast talk traversing the
opinion of form

locate the centre of what can be said without
becoming a detainee of fortune or hostage
to the words in legend on the dust of sound

bending fears created through learning the voice
shaped machine of genes stored in the warehouse of person
by stepping away from the edge of doubt

vibe on roadless maps the date
unknowable verbs fully transit
and detect free will subsuming to fate
in a moment fashioned to occur
as though none should exist but the
one played

Inner being casino checks signed by the nib of chance
cash out the chips balanced to return their allotted span
and files an imprint of echoes detected blind
in the outer wheel

so believe in a future unplanned or rhymed to sketch
pictures mute of horizon

by chaining to the symmetry of soul

and spin in grooves of understanding
worn before the cards fell and sides were taken


Radium Crayon Bandolier

Sara Sara
an earwig hangs
upon your
upper lip
a perfume bottle
whose super-terrific
is eunoia

lyrical and hunchbacked
sara you
aesthete athlete
so-subtle sara
with your accidental
sara the wild
and brackish undulate

upon whom so
many parasites
their dis-
which echo
your name
in vain
which are
in fact
your manes
your baleful

your treasonous and
whose base
is the terror
of seasons

O how pale and
your shoulder

wherein the
bitter clay
is rinsed
in wildfong
and municipality
such laissez faire
to find
in the sparse
cruel yolks
of your
astronomical brethren

and forgive
the propaganda
of this tedium
which joins
any persimmon

to an
eaglet incarnation

recessive genes lank toward perfumist play

pea plants hold dominion (sway)
: monk science: skittledy doowop
clues do sort themtwelves
successive breeds regressive
chess plants eek stance
overly my mood (you dig)
(she digs) (we three, nous sommes, et al)




log-chopping muslim.+tybical

+priam airy
wild earnest

paris for
the +dripping

this insect
+was brought to
you by...

now appearing+
among the rushes..

what of the geometric orphan?
this colloid of hyperbolic+ babies?

tar+ and straw
and a mud helmet
we are wearing thin
the tendons
and the bible steaks

foe is so early+
whatever "their" vers.ion is-

sleeping under the same sky
dead in lawns
our mouths+ are both sloughed off
and don't start with culo (cue: LO!)
but even if
aah, the perplexing spirits:
tantreacles of Onanomites.

outre' pop culture
"fucking" hacks+
teen-agers, adults who are stoned
letters between strangers

all of us looking up
and no one subtle enough
to commence their song
within the +ancient pattern
/kinetic mandalas of proximal primes/
well enough
or is it enough simply to breathe
as a frog
of invisible strings



wise for vibrations
a waste
4 dumb


[epilogue (News)]

psych. cartel
Oz Mond production
RNA gang(lion
rap)e /heavy syn

this morning

be with me
you say

into paired
thinking, feeling, light

perfumed in all
the varying

of surroundings
you look out

those blue deep
lovely eyes

no one

intrusion on
any felt syntax

the only recourse
left to

made whole
fresh and transcendent

to your antenna
divvying dark

muse open
everywhere my sense

of sight sound
scent taste

as cause
and effect fuse

nothing evident stays
closed now

is shared
we occupy space

believe this place
is who

we are
these orphans of

legacy system gone
legato for

holds just
still here now



A running gag, to come home from fishing,
wet in suede, ramified by smell and nothing.

While falling, actual in time, a gland lifts
to meet the expectation of being crossed

and crumbling. The inattention, in need
of structures, returned by hand to owner.


Log nEnech

Knowing that time for truth
comes through talk when all
is said and done

come to the trinity
of instinct and two figures
rooted in a single mind

one an Irish poet
one a homeless migrant

dwelling in the ear
of any who will listen
for beauty in a song.

Seperated together
to be remembered and recorded
in the corpus of a work
imprinted in the hollows of the heart

shining from the watchpoints of the soul
and lighting landscapes of expression
buried deep as Cuchullain
fighting waves of human forces
warring over cattle in Connaught.

Let us uncover ancient rites
in the migrant's Irish heart
which the poet has composed
on benches at the canal's bank
after weaving in make believe with fact

forming thoughts to run
in a channel of oral metrics
reconnected with in stubborn defiance
to those whose learning
is a metaphor for darkness

its geography anchored
to a synthetic sky in static glow
casting ink black pools
of sharp cold sunless flame
severing blind the past

cutting sound lucid measure dead
leaving it to shrug dumbly and look on
as written words weight its tongue silent
in poetry's eternal cycle of departure and return

Under the Rubric

but hey, this is an armchair pedogenesis at
which check, language, thing) . . . push
suggest dictation

solely language
maybe stutter, I wouldn't be hunched over
in me anymore
benighted thing) . . . that

if I could push
around my insides
scribbling, cognition mark
I wasn't so young that she still lingers

it presumed uttering,
english at what is) is sand
she's blood through her, writing
push used too, of theory

(and tends so much to want that forth
right thing) . . . states, age that Mars has
used composing
declarations of love

--Halvard Johnson




Scripture woven on a Celtic stone of chance
tells how the beard of Joyce was once a forest
of anatomy carving its spool of time beneath

frosted glass lands where ceramic rabbits lived
on the logic of game caught grass, stored in
cherry baked wood and brick hutches; the shine

of their bobtail sound caught in the surface gloss
of faux mahogony, pannelling a contemporary
sup hole home of Ireland's bardic heartbeat

straining to be heard above De Bussey and generic
DJ hard house mixes competeing in the CD shuffle
of a quick pick surround sound injecting universal

vibes beloved of bar clones the globe over. Their
bunny bookstall rhymes forward reach to an overlap
of sorrow floating in the nets of recollected thought

and surreal slippage from soda pop mountains where
loud checked chocolate shirts are worn without
prejudice and literary fairs offer toss and catch the

coconut with a buck toothed looseness of calcifying
stars falling from the heavenly vacum we all desire
to meet before embarkation to the celestial pen.

a curfew called a cataract

it's blue. you do not dream
what angles reify, they ply
from carte blanche an identity,
as one dismembers viaducts
from flow through. art equals
shield. delinquency from
re(s)po(n)se sifts dark from light

buildings are all numb in brown.
around the grace notes lie
host hills. remember:
dumb resistance mimics stone,
tribunals full of fuss
almost disclose their lack
of inner fire. yet one aspires
to join the ranks of the resemblances
to power.

on someone's shoulders, any joust
is not-for-profit, and below
the quasi-dance is not for
stale observance. many playthings
squeak and bounce. you know the drill:

an ounce is worth caressive blooms of prayer.
I'm on the case. you're on the case. something's
about to blister, and it's not your skin. it's not
my skin. it's the rosacea of
distilled new captains of restraint,
who store their feelings in
quaint glottal stops.

Garamantian Ethics

We know they airbrushed the hoods
Of their Camaros with images of micro-
Scopic undulipodia, and Herodotus says
They disdained war, or at least, weren't very good at it.

And we know they lived with buffalo,
Often inside them, using the periscope of long
Divisions to usurp the gadarene interest of marauding
And climatic stratocracies of limpid insurance quotations.

It is certainly known that they wore nothing at all but
The tender budding bodies of favonian flowers, which once, and
Certainly grew from spirally gardens mimicking springy proteins
And the spruiks of wheezing blue-toothed theanthropos.

We can guess that within the rubber-bricked walls of their
Hibernaculums cum hop houses heady haecceities gave way to halcyonic
Anagnorises whose hypo-structural musicalities bore a striking
Resemblance to the fleeting shadows of the last Libyan Wallaroos,

A chorus of Sciamachiavellies bounding into the long gone buck grass,
In a hoarse whushling of homeless boneless kerygmatic diacriticals,
In a cascading arc of ypsiliform rondures magnetic to the local Pir Aasvogel,
The wide and sparing SUV whose palmiped signatures of absent papyri,

Echo through the ages.


so brother

so brother harrowing whipping
farewell love Oh. My. ONWARD....
If make me
funk soul omigod with


Vanishing sheep and goats capture
the beauty of a vanishing planet, explored by sea
or air . . . native people

rebound in the blue of the Amazon forest,
hard edge of darkness, wrist watches
and rings forever lost

street kids, Danish philosophers, and oil company
biologists suddenly appeared in Bolivia
shortly after the World Cup

while the rare glimpses of blue,
a canopy raft, canopy sledge, centenary palm
not so widespread as in southern

Brazil, including Belo Horizonte,
the blue and rose periods . . .
wary natives dodge from sight, paving

stones on a rigid man's body, crack them
apart with a sledge
"Crystal Blue Persuasion"

and other songs of the rainbow
world, across snowless
mountains, communities fretting

about disasters and disorders,
diminishing supplies of
books, candles,

bells . . . a modicum of humor, rainforest

small quantity, modicum, trace, hint,
minimum; vanishing point; material point,
atom, particle, molecule, corpuscle, point,
speck, dot, mote, jot, iota, ace

of the pan, making a slope paper, cardboard tissue rolls,
tape, blue avocados, bananas, bamboo,
black pepper,

with a talent for vanishing from southern Mexico into Amazonian
Brazil, flying steeply up a rocky gradient,
certain that the power of blue light clearly against

clouds now low and thin, tents pitched on . . .
the unexplained flycatcher, sliding down a jungle slope
for a while, prior to disappearing . . .

--Halvard Johnson



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