Said true
Let there be false
So fell yes from the heavenly no
Over the surface of always moves now: Every therefore singing
I am
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Category Archives: #poetry
Lunatics
Meet me in the middle
Of the megaliths
Do unto me
As you would do unto me
Let why equal two:
Let our cold congregation send
Shivers across the wheat
Watch the stalks fall in
Strange crescents
Press the pampas into mandalas
What wily wind comes
Whipping through the truth trees?
Sweet lunacy!
I scrape my knees
To worship thee
That williwaw shakes
My weeping willow wakes
Navels in conjunction kiss
(Overgrown mound (buried omphallus))
Our legs a knobbled gordian
Knot: We braid new helixes
:Spit and sweat
and seed and mist:
Meet me in the middle
Of the megaliths
Embers
Proud eleven
Five-sided : Four-sided
Pilgrims in the rolling fields
Embers
Get your
Empathy off
My skin, your feet out of
My grippy socks—you two-way mirror
You freak
ǝɯ ɟo oʍ⊥
:noʎ ɟo ǝuou s,ǝɹǝɥ⊥
:uoᴉsᴉʌᴉp llǝɔ ɟo ɯɹoℲ
ʇsǝɹǝɔuᴉs ǝɥʇ sᴉ uoᴉʇɐʇᴉɯI
pɐǝɹ I
Abacus
Equations are analogies
As ratios are similes::
The fulcrum of identity
Is equal sign: God’s scale
That transcendental parity
Threads the abacus
With truth-meaning-value
Threads the rosary…
From atoms to axioms to
Numbers naming points
It renders all the same:
A theory of everything
Pandæmonium of roundels
In a crowded puddle of rain
Which beads become rings
Before wavering from being?
Which seeds become words
Before wavering from being?
FABERGÉ II • FABERGÉ IV
AFX.AFA.LWK.AES.DKW.WVE
.QHD.SUW.KLA.DDZ.SKA.LKH.
DSU.WKQ.WLA.EMD.LAH.DQ
.
FG.OAV.LZF.GZW.AYZ.LFG
.VWH.LZT.MLA.EKL.ADD.SDG.
USL.AGF.KWW.OZS.LAE.WSF
((:=is):(=is:)::(is=:):(=:is))
(Ratio equals is
is to
Equals is ratio
as
Is equals ratio
is to
Equals is to is)
FÀBERGE V
BJN.LMN.SLQ.NYY
.QJF.SIW.JAJ.FQN.
SLR.ZHM.DTZ.QQS
.JAJ.WHF.YHM.RJG.
ZYB.JHF.SYT.ZHM
orpheus
when the virus and i get lost in my house
of mirrors no attention and small memory
peep holes
the sky lies
me back down for the fungi
to bungy a few thousand years
but my carbon gets around like karma
and i’m eventually young
walking on old streets pretending
oh i’m borges in buenos
aires on some actual night
one century in november
buying cigarettes and
turning wine into fire
before the endless museums
and libraries
the mirrors and smell memories
when ixora grew in the house
but i wasn’t home to know it
Mournful
Ghosts of mist
Float lazily silver
Through neat beams of streetlight: New moss
Softens
The sidewalk
A stag alone in the parking lot
Eats from pharmacy’s tree
Some dim star falls:
Satellite
⨀ 