Monday, April 29, 2013


Hollow Logic

How about to typecast castoffs, doomed scum, swine ignorance youth
Hardwired to watersheds, gates slam, alarm clocks gurgle
Peripatetic compulsion, explosion, aerodynamics
Who pees on the burning cottonwood?(?)!
To the hilt,
shit ensues literary and intellectual digestion
what the "home" steals luxury in furious tom toms
sez I'm a rare give down the lonesome highway (pete'ssake)
writers' heads mounted in concrete and nightmare toothpaste 
Ghost taps my pipe in ashtray late night, goodnight Irene, sometimes I 
takes a great notion to jump in the water and drown, with
serious repercussions under my clawnails
A typewriter half in half out reality
Or is it a tiny HUD house?mousetrapreplica
She hears my ghost pipe rattle I coughing my dreams 
The five condiments poison my Tuesday this shit'll kill ya
Who knows how dreadfully polite in plague times, rhymes, schemes,
shredded invisibility, my hammer down, exhaust mechanism 
of dead priests, a magnesium pub mix, the canon, grapeshot we go 
less than halfway to the moon
She's draped over the sofa like a centipede.

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