Fastfwd the scaleself
that atomsplits the rootworld
and tropes the fleshlight
in statistic siftiness in profile of
in the game of Battleship,
kilned into desire or murked over
with what you mishit.
The splinters and isintegration of
humed summer when we cleared nettles
certainted a dreambilingual inertitude
until upon us landed these signs.
One is cartesian apostrophe.
The headhole isitself atissue as it
pezdispenses implemelts in their pullaces.
The therivative rootfoot is foound
in worldriven jewel-cases & picture-frames.
So sings its compression-song.
There is a self at the end of the
finger in the slept dust, a whaleflake
surfaces from the floorboards.
The animals destroy nature by
in the therefores a cogitatory
iamb adheres to clothing
to seethe the claggard minutiae.
Semicolonize your skin in finitessimal
splinterments. Crisistalks continue
impingingly emdash into embodimelts
of dwindliness. Language divides its
elf in a poem the dust lifts to reveal be
tween a leaf these displeasures of
extremities sinking under a voice
an underdome descreed.
The house fell off me while I
was asleep, I slept in
the liftable paperflap
heart in Descarte’s De Homine.
Blubber your syllabilly tremblone,
betatest dreams above your workstation.
I shall spend my next five days
letting light lose itself inside a screen
neuromarketing an ingestments portfolio
until a piece of me opens and images
exit like flies from a headwound.
If the air spoke inwordly.
nobode of the deathsent is
murmurmuring into an eartomb’s
elevensing to milkclot the governmeat.
Listem the striplit signsongs
the schlosch of heroshimmers
the cleptoparasite sups, ushers, shushes
upon its gluts of ingotten illgots.
Crystaleyed the wind somewho
flows like a house at night and creates
words the length of tongue, refracted to
myself yet goes crazy as a cast of
silence and nightblooms inside
longunsung songs we understand.
Children cloud round us and from some
where an animal is still sobbing:
it so much wants to be human, to
build a house that is sentence, the wind
sticking to us the names of things.
If our eyes break open weight of dayness
we accentuate the apple in its bowl
its blue-green shiny back sickens
into the song the illness of words.
Sumer is icumen
are the children all in bed
the wormonger is
unprogramed & sawstruck
by hypoderm of demi-sheath
she feghteth nat gladli wt ye serpent
hascos & to unnerve the worm
embeds a broodthirsty jaberror
or arrowslits a crockadrill.
The Misuscular bride, she arms her
telescopiform eggtube leavalives
the surgical target-grub, its pinhead
with implathable facetism
with a heatseaking stickin
jection. Her hourglass
waisted secuitry of motherlove
since the unnameable cry in the night
with unaccountable eyes is hers
until enemerges the unembodied pulpoet,
learns syntax of the pupivorous ventinlet.
The analytical engines of the line
emusculate the bodymelt
for the mechanico-maternal incubust
to eyejack the hostess, hearteaten
nature is telephoning us in sleep
to say, Sumer is no more.