Misc. 3

• the second coming

  it's obscene how Allah is everywhere

  women libbers twirling there legs

  wrenching and jerking

  the Six-pointed Nintendo Messiah

  just a baby

  that suicide bomber

  WAAA WAAA WAAA

  blah blah blah

  Woodstock 94 BOOOOOOOOM!@!!

  
  
• count chocola's revenge

  the fragrance of a wasteland of furniture

  of vagrants and curly-fries at the frictionless pinnacle

  of picture books

  hardcore check-cashing places and the amorous lateness of their clocks

  the girls bones they found at the apartment down the street

  i wish i never go

  i messed up my art i will probably be in trouble

  write a story about anything this boring boring day

  we can climb on the rooftops

  use the detergent to wipe clean the depressing thoughts

  we can move around the seven deadly sins in a plethora of people disappearing in their tents getting kicked over in your granddad's garage bowing and blowing themselves
• house of the swallowed

  sundown was a catchers mitt of infinite mirror shardsarranged into a multi-faceted geometrical pocketknife of God and i was peg-legged and limping through the vineyard of the psyche

  my body temperature the same as the moon

  i was like Dante - all rolly-polly into the mouth of hell humpty-dumpty in a dark pool of twigs and eyelashesthenlifted into the sky fluids pulsing electricin the belly of a humming-birdthe utility poles and granite structuresshifting below me like geological slices of time

  
  
• prickly pear

  Standing from the gasoline

  "Very seldom, Very seldom"

  I say half-outloud but just as I'm standing from the gasoline i mean the pool the pool of gasoline and the ceiling is full of nails and so I'm thinkingI mean I'm trying not to think of the nails

  but the gasoline is making the floor slick and I'm trying to standbut the ceiling is so low and the nailsall these nails are rusted it stings beneath the skin with anticipationpoking little holesinto my scalp but I have to standbecause the gasoline
• shining path of meglomaniacal nothingness

  Chairman Mao's discovery of slug warfare and the subsequent bombing of all back-roads and highways has left the road-signs blank like the weather channel empty of context like jazz in a car window night

  but we've preserved the lexicon (a raspberry bursting with obscurity) in formaldehyde buried it in a tree-stump in Mississippi however, we didn't calculate the psychic errors of the flowers and now our soul will be arriving at best a guest in an unfamiliar body heavy and cool like a pebble in the mouth disintegrating into a (before the desire) sculpted round words of leprosy and love

  ( (note)the lexicon became overripe and burst in my fingers brain boils till the ink is poured into cups)

  tea-time !!!!!

  the sun is a sugar cookie with blood run through it

  unfolding like the summer solstice a sleeping grocery store sediments and rain slurred together filling the distended bellies of starving orphaned children

  
  
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