iStream of Consciousness
Hard-lined fevers hardwire disaster
?it?s gonna be alright? is what the toaster of Orpheus
Said to the cow jumped over the godspeed!
You fool, this is bat country
Just wait till you see the egg whites on the table
With this new shit-aku piece of crap-oshi
You?ll not be amazed
But dinner plates and dozers are not among those
Hurt
But still go away in the end
The bottle? The brandy? The branded liver
The questioning looks and the surety
Of the knowing that this is what this is
And that is exactly the problem
Is all to which this amounts.
ESSSSSES
The sadness! The fury! The pianos burning brightly
Singing psalmey songs of psalmic sages and singers
Whose saturated sight see slews of serenity-breaking
Satyrs staging stark esoteric scenes sort of about Sinews and statues
and the state of Sanskrit In San Diego where turntables shift shiftily
Shaking and shucking like corn on New Year?s
That you never eat yet at which surely stare
And all that you saw there was short of Saturday
Though not far enough from Sunday.
(untitled)
La byr
inths
a re har
d to es
cap e .
