Calliope Nerve VIII: Why Go?

"Ink runs from the corners of my mouth. There is no happiness like mine. I have been eating poetry!" --Mark Strand

DISCLAIMER: This issue of Calliope contains adult language.

Calliope Nerve Part VIII: Why Go?
featuring Michigan's own Shawn Misener is free of charge and available now.

the little god in the yellow hat

The Booming Voice From Above:

You can either be the dying crab on the beach,
or the jankety satellite that barely holds orbit.
Your choice!
You can either be the rotten discarded love kiwi,
Or the two way speaker at Rally's that never works.

You will forever be having to pull up to the window to order.
You will forever be having to correct the order.
You will forever be having to hear my dreadful voice.

You will forever be having to be, and that's a raw deal.
My voice has shook even the steeliest of balls.
My bounty has crumpled even the ironiest of knees.
You will forever be having to be my kinda bitch.

You can know death, though.
Would you like to know death?
You can know death then.


Pleasant, no? A real no-brainer.
You will forever be having NOT that again.
I am in control, see?

You can either be the dried merlot in your toilet,
Or the hi tech plastic head to a nuclear projectile.

Get it?
You can be the last palm standing after the
next tsunami,
Or a broken support beam setting off to sea.

You will forever be having to make these great decisions.
Hooray for my questions!
Would you prefer fries with that,
Or the more sensible choice of a fruit cup?

--Shawn Misener

Other authors this issue include J.D. Nelson, Billy Jno Hope, Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal, and me: I'm Nobius Black.

Calliope Nerve features poetry, short lit, reviews, commentary, quotations, and odd bits in a wide range of styles. All editions are free of charge. Back issues available.

To order this issue send your snail mail address to nobius at gmail dot com. Email for submission info. (We are always looking for talent.) Internet link trades, advertising, and flyer swaps available.

To support Calliope order your Amazon products via my web log: White Rabbit - *BLACK HOLE*.

Name your muse! Calliope Nerve.


his laugh

he sounds relieved he is not crying
his compensatory girth
invented to rescue his interior
from how he used to look
with his children he plays simple he plays easy g.
his wife meanwhile says jocose things
about her having married him
she could have had a doctor
and she still has trouble figuring
what made her marry him

she still repeats the mantra
that anointed her in someone's eyes
someone fictitious and someone
she paralyzed with blatantly inaccurate
imposing factlets she might make up
as she went along inventing prior hemlines
he's the kind of prince her light footprints
might have confined to tower longings

he's the kind of a projection she might hurt
if/when confronted by the way she feels
to see this big man looking straight across
beyond himself into the standing weeds
that welcome someone to a pseudo home
communicating that the hurt one feels
is very much contagious and the hurt
one does not speak invents the other selves



clavichord by suicide bomb: televised hubris only smiles
rotten dreams: wired to the hour's Asiatic: sand peeled
charlatans from what is known of the array with their
ordinary fur: engorged ringlets of an animus: stolen ounces
chime: black bones this pool of tomorrow's gate: bushels of
praxis tender reason's cusped ruin: grey soldiers flay at
egos fallen adrift in icy passion mistakes: braids betray
amber's everything and punch tundra right in the phonetic:

while common people swallow the sound blue
has already forgotten

Looms & by Stropt



Customary design
Design interrupted.

Will “clamp” bail
“clump” out in T-
urmoil City where
vulture is to table
upon leg of a she-
ath as structure is
to fierce upon pl-
ains of existence?


Boy is to hunger
as a dye vat is to
Obi One Kimono.

A gull / a gulf

Wan & clever is
Aizen Shin. Snap-
shots bespeak
him a coin / a


Stagnant Willow
Scripted Lenses
Flows. I Investi-
Gate By Circular
Precincts Of Lan-
Guage Like News
Of Olde Dogs.
Oxen Follow E-
Poxy Ogles A
Gaol Is A Rift In Space / Altered By Usage / A Cl-
Aw To What Elu-
Des Significance.


The Aloha inched
an errant, strutted
into dangerous liq-
mail-slot foyers.

Discursive / possible.

A particular lambda
within purview
of august behind
green screen doors
plotted like
holy roly-poly
sympatico porticos.

& if
not deeded asking
the buttered dead
for robert dinero.


Now it freaks me: br-
oken s_p_aced >>>>[
up serpentine stairwells
sublime bay
orange-yellow nimble as angst-monster. What is written du jour
is good not a seizure?

The ave. is sleet here.

At its base arrives miles
en route.
******I took the wr-
ong book along. It’s
your widgets I adore.

Inside mine is hunger.


Blind of a nerve be-
gat MAN. (Wo)man
begat: hooped out &
******Entire gauges.
Gad-flies. Manet-Ortiz-Platz are gad-
gets I accrue.
brush off is the colonel’s regret. The col-
onel’s regret, so blue,
pauses at one room.
******When art-
iculate, a singing is a
pose. Pho-
nemes meander upwards. If I aggravate how ship-
ped I a book?
******Less as bo-
nes. Bling! Bling! Bling!
Less as mph. Lessons on
skirl amps. Formidable
tortions enter lambda at both ends / usurp Edenic
amphorae bushwhacked at Bathe.
I investigate by looms
& by stropt. I'm cured is the cure of language.
A new dog is a
dangerous read. & to
quote: “He means nothing to you
& you don’t know why.”


when he spoke | what he said

the body is encumbrance (how I work)
this is to say (original peace amounts to letting in)
when I was born to him and all that spirit lights had planned
(one reminisces even the forgotten prior to this life)
was almost removed but then emerged
what did it mean to have two spirits already enmeshed
assigned to new roles what did it mean to recognize
as time proceeded darkness to be erased in sequential line
here he was today behind a quiet light
I listened here he was I had to know and knew
I heard his language fit inside my spirit (he used the word wise)
every time I think I know
I'm joined and every symphony embedded in the smallest
wingspan is alive with my decision to accept
the chance to be entire


here is
just for you

cherry blossoms preside
watch them

starched daylight
let us walk

please sing to
me I

our time
together I refashion

this cool day
alongside how

toward conclusion
not yet permanent

Orange Swears Its Love

...and so daydreams a walk along the opaque.

defintely a blue tarot
blasting away at the awry of everything.

cell mania stampedes network onyx
swirls of an arm riding
how widespread syntax is.

a movie about dark soil's dalliance with
outlawed memories of opera, shoes, and
all of our secrets in flame.

expanding orange swears its love, though.

electrons like art's solid grasp of
old forms swept into a desolate palm
to conceal gems frothing with
fluid trajectories on the phone

all day


because the aquatic
has failed your body again
like iron
vaguely Marxist
and radiant with
its own law.


Cancer on the Floor

to savage this day. breasts and beats
your aura beneath cashmere. razed pink
glades a sweating evisceral. bolts from a
jawbone enigma. tributaries oozing a sister's
fetish. the world's trembling oh-so cleanly.
diamonds cannot hallucinate away another.
simulation glints paint cancer on the floor.
oil that bleeds in cruel arcs like known
catacombs falling from a rose's sad jubilee.
paradigms minus radiation laugh after
punishment's red warp and glare.

We Cunningly Gaol

A seamstress believes comatose quasi-redistribution
Of ampoules inspires cunnilingus migration across.

Entire bodices decline corollaries of shorn heaths.
The texts sigh anecdote upon anecdote verily / bruskly.

Waterfalls off numbers nine & seventeen off highway.

Wilds of contentious rhubarbs book it like paradigms.
Ushered in by the likes of “the likes of me walks into a pub.”

Holy is lingo! Infinite our ways! We cunningly gaol!

I say devour your pertinent soap operas, mum.
Crush your fluid macadam to flippant introductions.

I Straddle My Beach Combing

A conscience is broken. I have written out ogle plainly.
Cold fronts leap free out western ranges for Sheila Murphy.

Gone are ultra-sexual motifs. I straddle my beach combing.
Infrared motive-cameras glamorize technique in a flash.

In conceptual modeling base pairs are sutures: eg, gh, etc.

One strange breed of spurred quarter horse rides out.
In Utah, death’s martyred, quartered Prussian ode exists.


This Day | All the World | In Time | When Are You

This day made whole embarrasses one of the nest.
This day made conscious takes away some of the midnight.
This day made incomplete reverses the charge.
This day made yellow drains the supply of yellow paint.

All the world returns the serve.
All the world unplans the world.
All the world confers about the world.
All the world vociferously disagrees about the world.

In time there are sweet cul-de-sac
In time refreshing winter
In time failure to injure
In time things available at cost

When are you coming to stay
When are you speaking as my heart
When are you brave enough to become both our hearts
When are you remade into this time of night



I remember
the old verses:
it ld be better
to see far
but if near you
(photo by Nicola Spacca)

Non-indigenous Acts

Of political dissemblance outfit her words in gold lamè.
Stars hover in space between her & faux-languages.
The lingo between a he and a she is never settled into but a powerful drug.
Money exchanged hands in one scene.
Down the rabbit hole designated her part in the script.
She disposed of every image but her own, enhancing what she said was the truth.
She’d mentioned she’d believed she’d read or heard someone repeat lines.
Was a book in a restaurant like the key to the abortion clinic downtown?
Downtown she gave blood into a beaker without advertising it.
Once her apple like an apple from the infamous bough of a fixed phenomenon.
She’d taken her friends to the cleaners.
A harp solely is an actress “in a curio shop window.”
The British mercantile system stretched reality beyond the boundless.
Living and speaking became plastic throughout the western world of Hollywood.
She repeated washing her hair IN THE SINK.
She was transformed by her new look as a blonde bombshell by mistake.
Fixed forms of government acknowledged her.
Her system collapsed. Then collapsed again. Take after cinematic take.
A party was not held in common.
A “tour de force” meant sublimely handcuffed by errant dimensionality.
The design was overall a flash in the desert.
Meta-narratives like all big ideas shrink inhumanely.
Hers was a position romanced by words, backed up by bills.
Bill was her unconsciously dreamy dream-boy.
She found her dubbed-over voice echoed again & again in the dark of his office.
Her past is briefer than 600 years.
She’d named herself a new name upon arrival.
That’s what she remembers being, an upstart from that moment forward.
From that moment to this is another trip to her silver screen.

Volatile Springtime

Mixed up in the hub was volatile springtime.
A song ready-made as a look through a hedge seemed volatile springtime.
Upon the ledge I danced in volatile springtime.
Query your rhymes before shifting gears on the open highway in volatile springtime.
And so mustangs & palominos & appaloosas raged across three states
Of matter out on the plains in volatile springtime.
Diffidence constructed sublime pleasures from careless hearts in volatile springtime.
We rode each loveable cloud into restaurants in search of ourselves in volatile springtime.
We coped in volatile springtime.
Instead of comprehending in volatile springtime.
We comprehended nothing in volatile springtime.
Anticipation opened our emails in volatile springtime.
Thus you arrived looking back in volatile springtime.
The spirit of elision wandered in drunk and cursing his girl in volatile springtime.
The look upon your sunburned face while surf blasted the shore in volatile springtime.
Your eyes budding with loose-strife in volatile springtime.
For no one said “No” in volatile springtime.
The demons we harbored, glutted with hope, usurped the conversation in volatile springtime.


dran gtext



o-relgio i o


dran gtex tnumerical

op & po

non & non

oflight O flit

maxillae alar

suppresse depoxy numerica lveer


verse, junct,

simil eelixir

stra wcanter


lichen ’dni ghassumed



rowan cla doaken

cla dbled

sonan tclankup

i dmite

marred reve lpost





volle ybilbo



tarma crift


dori cflux

& id


tarmac rift


Theg Old Fish

erred in but amber

gourdf lex

algonquinn ode

elevenl umen rewards modal

narrates itu-


theg old fish

algonquin modal

scaled le monde


One Letter (Missing)

course correct the litmus derivation
to advance the light
capstone (experience)
belies symmetrical indifference
unless you gather wholeness
to the template
and tap forehead
to taste


The Particulars

The radio announcer claims moments just ahead of midnight that the broadcast is more intimate at night, and you and I look at each other and agree that this remark itself takes liberties with the language and the airwaves. Now as if to prove his point, the hands connected to the voice have placed on the machine a sheet of vinyl where the needle can get at it, and we hear undue plucking with a filament too much vibrato, plus a modicum of jubilance beyond what's de rigeur. Schubert is threatened, and I remember now the DJ's boss once telling me that the announcers have collectively an ego the size of several counties pressed into a vise. We then transist into violins en masse. The music, far from hurting now, appears to match our atmosphere as we settle into smoother strings less hand-picked sounding. Here comes Mr. Majesty again, delivering post-vocalcade a gypsy-esque endeavor kindred to my mother's very own interpretation of la vie, despite an admitted preference for piano-gracious ornaments.

Confraternity of treble clef, chatter of trumpets at commercial time, desire for whispers

't.v. party' by black flag


The Immateria

"I lost some time once. It's always in the last place you look for it." --Neil Gaiman

"I am the least difficult of men." --Frank O'Hara

Gabcast! White Rabbit - *BLACK HOLE* #3

The Immateria

Don't scare for skin.
(or your belongings!)
Proverbial worm-

There is only life
and a life unlived.
(Yours is which?)

Prayer rain,
Holy Water emancipates.

when I no -longer-
tangled in the Sails
Wash me away God
In calm sea.

The things unseen
(are there)
Ghost religion
Show Happiness
Promising Summer


For me,
The least difficult of men.

For me,
Who can not put the
Feeling in words.

--Nobius Black

Just Like Robinson Crusoe

A fashionably late sky, as if we'd spent the entire millennium sipping brass-knuckle music, lightweight lingo alone. Of course, these things had a way of becoming completely kerosene-soaked, with astral links to funeral ships that anchored in desolate harbours, sprinkling their ooze in hungry, waiting mouths. From the xerox to gongs of fortune tittering at the riots to come, last rites patiently awaited the exquisite in dawn, savouring the quixotic to pass the time.

Violence and filth all that remains of the cosmopolitan imagination, bestial fours shattered in my mouth, snarling at red balloons overhead. Porno on the radio, buy a nubile for rallies designed to accentuate fear in rusted unison. Nothing more threatening than a moment of divine inspiration, I'm afraid. We failed to even notice the balding, middle-aged gentleman purchasing a chocolate-bar at the counter ahead of us, time-zones slipping slowly, inexorably from his jacket pocket. Retinal blasts emanating from screens placed strategically throughout the store did their job. He quietly walked away with several mint copies of our genetic code stored safely away in what was left of his penis.

Blood and synaptical degeneration written into billions of podcasts around the globe that night, the digital left blurred, chattering.

Lunar air-conditioning. Human shields doodle on the bus. the brave reemergence of electric guitars from beneath the concrete. All-night orgies promised to the radiant masses. Atomic television frozen, passively rounded up by the authorities and beaten with swaths of good morning.

We stumbled out together into the sweltering density of late-night traffic, bundles of pink clawing after our every step. Dogma still rules the chimps whispered in my ear. Your face illuminated by brief flashes chromatically, breathy, beautiful currency. Lavender impregnated, brilliant matches of biology and eye-shadowed geo-politics, symmetries left open in the pages of the city. My identity curled into ejaculate recycled from industrial strains of mercury. A howl of pain and loneliness struggling to stay put behind my warped teeth, winding up alongside the edge of noise.

Ideas dependent on absence for their substance.

Off the main boulevard, hollow steps never once engaging directly with the sixties of hyper-leisure. A bio-engineered madness left to fend for its life under the auspices of intricately-wired surveillance domes drunk and insane. Elvis could be seen bumming cigarettes on every street-corner, as if each individual musician in the orchestra was playing a different piece simultaneously as his eternal corpus. The pock-marks in that bartender's face were teeming mediations attempting to mutate into full, heavy breasts. The scent was overpowerig at times. No wonder most of the people drinking alone at the bar headed home before midnight to masturbate after furtively stuffing any and all floating data up the ass of passing network brunettes. Rowdy, drunken mechanical cobras swallowed our trail, grinning pure hate at our passing.

A deft kick to the minimal, chilled bottles of morass, lithe and muscular, retained the sound of a hastily unlocked door. Dreadlocks plastered liberally throughout our shared diaspora made us mad with lust. No more archery to clean up after our obsession with deranged senses, the facility of jazz inbibing millions from swift adolescent brown and brawn. I bought into your cross just for cheap thrills that were capable of persuading psychedelia to kill the sun. The way you make me feel, baby. Thick shards of ego unable to close the gap, leaving us both forever wanting something we could never articulate fully. Try to picture butter-flies strapped to electric-chairs, day-dreaming their ascent. Starlight straight from the ineffable. Our erotic luddism contrasted nicely with the steady rhythm of urban-warfare outside. Our pounding became particularly meaningful in that context., although when a dwarf emerged from the intermezzo of your third eye, I began to have my doubts. The clamour and confusion, the outlawed coordinates talking softly to the dry husk of ambiguity, all made for the joy of creation. Entwined surface-to-air tumours drowned out the persistent hum of infomercials on the television that promised to make us all wealthier, thinner and drop-dead sexy. I blithely tuned it all out because everything I could ever dream of was working my stub with reams of a violent talent. Thanks, but no thanks. Her tongue was a meandering improvisation on the complexities of life, sex and curdled geographies of the mind, an ulterior act reception that rattled high-stemmed glasses and rolled in my river all night long. Maya could never bury its swirl in my lap with such aplomb after that, I assured you afterwards.

Later, we decided to record the still-shimmering sonics of our union and felt just like Robinson Crusoe.

(dedicated to my good cyber-friend RavenSeeker)

fourteenth of March

your touch, equivalent to breath
keeps me awake as if
to savor what is here
I think of sleeping as the dream this is

you are my melody with quiet
never interfering and the pulse
of traffic does not shift
the cushion of these soft sheets

where my soul designs
my soul again
against oncoming sunlight
just as quiet

as the dark design
of who you are to me
my younger older self
at rest and visible


Uncontested Will

I thought integrity was vigorous.
The prelates left their clothes here
in a pile. When will the getaway car
be washed again?

It's been so long, since I believed
legerdemain was there to hold me.
Brush the crumbs off the end table,
will you,
I inquire.

No breathmark and no answer
anymore. The sky looks tired.
A pink, feathery yield of loom
becomes absorbed into

dark background, and by evening
every daylight shifts to fiction.
Affection turns come-as-you-are,
as I begin discovering myself again.



Lollygag's for me to say about my resume, not you. Imagine a balanced whiffle ball, a net, a sky to match infinity of chances. Now let me be your referree in all conditions. Don't dare rescue the least of me. This is spring's resilience come to play against the newly minted enemies we've thought were half-siblings within us. Telepathic forms of empathy don't hold liquids, even gases anymore. It would be better to adapt to these conditions. Watch my renegade deployment of shrill blades that technically overdraft better and worse by way of useful boundaries. What does a concept cost? Levitation, not to be confused with meditation, concentration, ventillation.

Knowing what we know and being what we are, one gesture and another

Human Kindness

Mimesis costs integrity.
I hear the diva
yield one note
after the next.

A refined sense of hearing
isolates from music
independent tones.
Gravity prompts

the fall from wholeness
into individual
ingredients, whatever
has been (formed)

into a previous occurrence
having earned the energy
to rise to an occasion,
being or becoming other than.

Lit Like Little Tunes Were Free

was neither


to wander
lit like little tunes.

Ours is now

a pinnacle

for twilight

a spend of little



Ik hoorde de rivier fluisteren
De wind huilde met droge ogen
Toen ik je hoorde vertellen
Over een oever die verdween

En de dijk brak vandaag
Scherven schrijven cirkels
En een cello zingt een lied
Je woorden vervagen

Ik hoorde de rivier schreeuwen
Ik verstomde oorverdovend
Jij vertelde nooit aan mij
dat de oever voorgoed verdween

Here We Are

She asks things that require me to break open the moment, things that remove whatever spark (if it were going to be) between us (that would need to be immediate), as if to go deeper apart from any probability of going any deeper in.

There is a type of kindness that is burdensome, sometimes I have it. I let her ask, and I respod. Her understanding of my answer seems to preclude her ability to have understood, based upon her need to ask. But she has asked, and I have answered.

I feel as though I need a directory of the planets to consult before proceeding, then recall that I have been proceeding all along, getting to know myself outside myself.

Here I am, learning nothing that is everything. There she is, picking up something among my guesses.

free Mastrogiacomo

set him free
he s a journalist
and searches for freedom

Deconstructing Oblivious Open Doors to My Heart Is False Witness


seeking door lamp


spiels weep sockets

O! Flocked credence

garbed in control

in reference to:

above us’s
a rune

for downwards we guggle

up over we cinq


Proctoring Each Incidental Aspect of Love

The long bent


of lips to cool

The hover of


to think of

My voice burns

for sieged


Guido Monte/Marie Rennard midnight

Wenn aus den Weltenweiten
once called chaos
you’ll hear: 'es medianoche...minuit',
here are other black human clouds
of a world alone again,
et toute chose est un coeur vide
that can t be off
From the rain will pour down
des floraisons d etoiles
Sternen Blutezeit
Y el canto
will raise
sottovoce human


the oars
the waist high

pressed over
river through and

arms pull
with long arms

water as
a sure place

lane this
widening lane against

momentary lapse
equal to fuel

for white
new settled opening


where delirium implodes: aside pieces of dirt city's parole: its first and only terrestrial buttock hates semen clutched by night's departing stutter: moribund flickering in hand-bags made of sand: dull light: smallness smiles: married by the moon's benign coils of grace: choke nomenclatures: falling cups of spring prove sorrow a system: dirt clones disturbed reels of film: a painful genesis agrees: down to solvent's lonely truculence drinking high in public without getting caught: white conceals somewhere between mysticism and distant viral grunts

Paradox Chimeras

...tangents of remission. Check your

ticket, the predilection of Xs and Os calling template
modesty away from paradox-->chimeras

ooze memory's intent

pursuit black wavelets holiday: salute dim clusters:
please affix each scrutiny to aeroplane lined foreheads

[protean fluid piles amongst pretense. civility acting as threads of separation amnesia. a noon strata neither motley nor the tropical valorized. just add hashish to the outskirts of asexual]

against this dream: wiser lip-synch fangs
grab every metaphor: fluid drones supine lungs:
decorated angles thirty-three arrests: drink
optical metrics: bent liturgy an ozone coldness:

---->lost looking half-spoken which exits

only to find what was never lost


Floral in mischief

the same task’s

a coast along hearts—

I ask

to the hammer flung

out of:

guidons aver?

a finger print inward

as art?



Soliloquy’s Odessa’n beneficial broken out of
Subway sometimes / every time ran up magnetic comforts
Stationed there
And people have me / had me
Is running away from my own body odd?
Disjoint armatures border irony its vicious parentheticals
Obsessed with March’s unlikely spools demanding
Warped stalks burnish dot coms chiseled by all out
Sequence effects aloha affects translation slowly
Boned hints stropt to metallic nuisances tumble down
Eventually a tooled mentation notes / observes / arranges
“fleurs” to flitted men / women / texts / contexts / eyes
Their kingdom flown against earth its offering of outrage
A ranting too calculated too homey for spice traders
And yet it’s “fleurs” they optimize at forces
Tens of thousands of bodies
Lit in normal-Dutch-zero-machined-largesse
Intimating x-rays opined by harbors’ sundry cods
Pseudo-ministers posed on fence posts
It’s as fantastic-science-waiting-on-tables that they wait
Seven wonders of bras traced in reversals
Elements’ as yet unspecified whirlpools of dictates
Accords’ diminished various ars poetica
Silent in notational cul-de-sacs
Houses narrow jut like jutting distant hearts
It was not a good day the eleventh
But roomed beneath the correct lives were new spaces
The right knives with the same fork and spoon

Verticality groped by “fleurs’” occasional condescension
Retroactive telephones heightened to plausible outcomes
Ring blunter blue guitars robbed at curbside decided
“Let's do the monkey”
Angled widths / breadths mistakenly golden
It has a singleness singing like dollarfish in church
But glee & who fled them expect to be fed
Ransomed for no whistle
Stranger linens iris entre nous above sea level
Shuttered heart-vials bomb-tomb’d ritual crucifixions
Each limned beforehand a counterfeit driven ballistic
Matters of shells is what we’re looking for, she explained
& went on “the daub of pallor” “torque of slender feelers”
My beliefs? Simple things, yes?
Quarried voices outdraw oddly all giddy abstraction
Tableaux’ inch worth of String Theory toppled by
Rubbled terrible defeats humanity & I am living thru
The one course slopes off
At frame’s edge a point of seven tangents seems elliptical
Jet-shaped as angst now deeper frgmnts due to meaning
Our canards’ estrangement in bistros
The ordeal is beautiful typography yes?
& yes, he coped ideally at first
Learned how not to unknot himself psychologically
Before rejecting himself scientifically
He altered himself pasted giant-hero labels upon himself
Reinvented by followers he missed them by minutes
When he died he changed is a fact it’s true
Articles unhinged his vision / revision of halos’ auroras
Still claim men in America love beautiful dogs?
Brown boxes in attics
Four horses shotgun us awfully negative in splendor
Barber shops map his masculinity’s dog-fetish for digging
Distant as wind cyber-masked by ZEROs


droll and immensely moving

10 results of 54900, Sunday, March 4, 2007, 1:12:33 pm EST

November 28, 2006 7:30 PM Unpublished endorsement: "In a body of work at once
droll and immensely moving, Leevi Lehto 'gets things right side upside down' ...

"...funny as all get-out, in a droll, self-deprecating way." ... "A deeply
intelligent work?heroically unsentimental and thereby immensely moving. ...

"[BALD is] funny as all get-out, in a droll, self-deprecating way. ... A deeply
intelligent work?heroically unsentimental and thereby immensely moving. ...

Things progress nicely, and Tolyan, at a droll communal meal, invites the motley
... body, voice, and demeanor, and immensely moving in her performance. ...

Things progress nicely, and Tolyan, at a droll communal meal, invites the motley
... body, voice, and demeanor, and immensely moving in her performance. ...

Other cast standouts are Cox, savoring every droll syllable as the alternately
benign and threatening ... Her final scene with Augusten is immensely moving. ...

It _moves_ and, for sheer emotional import, immensely moving, neither evolving
... essays, droll expositions on indefatigable catch-all topics that actually ...

Boasting a deliciously droll melancholy wit (think Keaton); ... 'Superlatives are
entirely warranted for immensely assured Turkish arthouse drama UZAK' ...


Spiritual Burn

We were drinking sin. We were smoking redemption. There was no cloud cover. She swept into view behind a flame.

“What do you need?” I asked.

She blinked and rattled in tongues. Her short cropped hair threatened to tickle my vision.

“What do you need?” I repeated with another gulp of sin.

“I thought I heard orgasmic things,” she replied.


evidence [[approaching]] affords initial

innocence [[unless]]

a useless dying frays the unlit [[rays]]

from center corridor

[[one has imagined]] paving

as one remits to would-be wall [[off]]

pressing down on [[entity]]

informal justice [[comes]]



Several acquaintances sought to capture the mother she had been assigned.

(parentheses kept weather feeble and the rain held forth)

In every likely weather, there was unearned loneliness.

(a confidentiality agreement normed proceedings that would come)

A pearl lay in her hand.

(grief is its own sheler)

Gravity would not be shocking without an inclination yet to rise.

(cinders announce what is occurring and about to be)

Chalk marks were positioned in her bed.

(allowances seem rarely enough)

They lay awake with her.

(companionship unequal to competitive desire)

Maps came to be collectively a symbol of relief.

(look at this not as a waste land but as destiny still unfulfilled)

She closed her eyes and saw them folded one way and another.

(probability's delicious voyeurism often trances)

Hallelujah Without Notice

Aluminum petals gush at the sun.

Yellow swish volition. A held blue symptom galvanizes the city,
reality crashes in barbed-wire brilliance.

Concocted from the stars sipping on
rumour and innuendo. Kiss the knife with
electric zeal.

Talking parasol hiss. A sick border
parlays battered DNA rouge, charred bhangra at
the point of fat, not flat.

Manifold kisses. The air hallelujahs
all the same. Wisps of a special offer
seduced by pure gnosis of flutes riding
open sky, straight-up and molecular.

Honest trickles bear recycled clay disguised as
sperm. Experience gleams in archangel trails of dream,
language recuperated from a jaundice that never ends.
Crackle void blisters this bridge of busy-signals,
pharmaceutical in their intent.

Witness the sneak-attack of serial chaos.

Burnt fantasy scampers away from the
clit of jumping up to get beat down,
stoic verbiage as theatre of
noble frogs.