3rd Poem


Generally, feeling lucid
punctuates period of nerves.

There isn't even a question to pose,
have no mind anymore.

Pluck the jade,
tone of you.

Go to the gizmo's coo,
an eternal circuit city.

the surge of punishment,
cones and balls and sperm.

Jumble, wreckage, the aftermath.
The real hallucinatory.

Be sure and see
all at once.

The hallucinatory real,
becoming waterier and waterier...

Hard times
creeping in
with the gibber of the man rocking outside the door,

swallowed by the sounds of the grocery store.

A crazed salesman fights with a boy employee.

"Will the manager please report to the fruit aisle."

The manager acquiescent, "let this man do what he wants..."

Crowd gathers
the boy and the man fight with his case
'How do you undo?' unfolds into display table.

'Hello! I said, ho do you do?'

We've met four times.

A story, we need a good story...

ba da da da dum


no more possibility for the world

The tablets erased themselves.

Of late my abdomen tingles.
Correspondent to
soreness in the right shoulder.
Which the action of this typing but aggrieves.

As the bat shit of your mind gives.
Makes way for some unknowable alteration.
Your mind loosens its sense of individuality, like an anus

relaxing in a hot bath.

our magnificent kiss

what you think is your limit is where I want you to go.
wheres my sand poem?

Sand paper, sand paper.


Balancing neither one nor the other,
coexisting hereof a third portion.


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