Molybdenum
Molybdenum Rejoice, nude tongue, my dumbstruck nipples hang by one contagious hinge by the dirty-blond seashore, my one-millimeter bone delirious with bruises, my cockshut ribs all virgin slime, sledgehammer fuses, ashen, askew, cataracting all the fusion you undid on top of the scalp of midnight, flash of the periscope's marrow, synthetic carcass, dry, brassy, heartless confusion of entrails and doom, the dark-vowelled trigger of the rainbow's sexless sap, giddily studding the foreskin of light under the petals of the moon, impenetrably thwarting the slithering stenciled steel gray beams of unprepossessing ignominiousness -- dishevelled urchin inhaling the musky odor of civet. I unsuck the flint in the lineaments of nightbreak whinnying the spiral of abscesses, unmortal anticlimax. The heartbone of the pasture is magnetized by the manure of flailed stars. Leaping manna, thirsty womb, the endless fibs of zero dumbly tumbling down the headless wooden silence, the metallic elements of love uneating the coils of my prayerwheel. The bust is pneumatically callous. Stultify me with inflectional spots of maladjusted redness. The scheme is chancy. Shrift, my ass. The rage is insolvent in all actuality. Loosely scratch whispering wails on a scroll. The cathode paddle of joy is inclusively unfeigned. Who scavenged the refractingly spooky twang? Who is nibbling on the nipples of the coral hourglass? Unlace the phallus stuffed with yttrium. The nib of it is not lisping like the tilted arc of the hymen, unlike the unmortal weathercock on the steeplejack's polestar spire. Unsex the henna octagon, corkscrews chiming, enamel pincers, ferrule cockring widdershins, halo around the undead chrysalis' bald nipples' milky sheath, fairies windily stung paler, tipsy thorn, mimosa bodice, sulphur axle, mummy pigments in the ninnies' boneyards, icicle shrouds unwrinkling the heartbreak tits of nowheres, timeless antipodes aghast, erected Saviour, splints and hangnails, slashed and hacked, fog of meat, spongy gristle, nitric suncock squealing, damp-grooved, razed deaf to the stem cells inside the scythe of death quietly outraged in the cupboard, dead icicle weeds of the alphabet weeping. Never, not ever. Repugnant or airtight, you had never been thickening there before, fawning over my parti-colored casters. The floppiest truckles. Now scram. I am vitrified, I am a clinker, a flipper and a flapper, a flop, a flattened appendage, a glinting tocsin adze amid squishier widgets. --Bob BrueckL
egg gas
egg gas egg gas, ray box air, fur gem, only smear feelings away, lightly extravagant, glass wails, pearl wad, quickly eat knuckles in a sackcloth, itchy nuts, climax dew drops, pear blossoms, nobody is anxious, yet the glowing wires of the crocus sun in a lipless loop peal plaintively, horizontal tatting, cankerworm, bell mispronouncing light, bright succor of wetness, withering whine desecrated, blotted out, particularly hamstrung, angst-perfect penises, yellow roses, lightly mauve vagina, jasmine and shale gnashing in the mausoleum, cream rinse, pink-white in foiled array, pansies lightly seen against the sky, fragrance of nobody, crying names, cumulus of delight imperfectly arranged, lightening nearer to humming nectar excreting a vivid fuchsia stain on the chenille chaise, stubble of hallowed blackness, blind spot nigh at hand: dupe me with an unopenable box of Kleenex. --Bob BrueckL
In the sphere of irrelevance
In the sphere of irrelevance, yr speech is a permuted locution. My utterances are not utterly algorithmically irrelevant. [window-sill] The squeaking ambiguities are not irrelevant to the permuted acts of utterance. [come anew] The endless ambiguities in your voice are being interpolated. [nasturtium] The algorithmic extraction is being gored in the embedded waves of darkness. [pansy] The extracted inversion is superficially disoriented. [pale eaten glance] The parasitic paradox is inaccessible to my inner rectum. [nestled fur lining] One parasite is humping another outside of my imagination. [air blossom] The superimposed delimits are endless interpolations of disorientations. [sliced stains] The gibberish is so obscure it subsumes the sublime. [pomp pump] May I interrupt the sphere of unshapely ambiguities. [climax dot] The unshapely paradigm is parasitic and inaccessible to interpolated analysis. [lil' bean dew] The hermetic sublime is shitty. [dust core] There are no subsumed delimits to its disorientation. [lightly lipless] The messy inscriptions are overflowing into poetic paradoxes. [undoubtedly quiet] Who subverted the spatially collapsing subtext. [wad head] Uttered numbers are woven into disoriented ambiguities. [mother-of-pearl] The syntax udders emulate slangy subtexts. [nut wailing stars] The structure collapses as the sublime is being inscribed. [ice white-knuckling it] The structure of disassembled abstractions is or is not true. [long colored calamity] The accuracy of what is being inscribed is slovenly lovely. [itching bone] There is a disoriented parasite in my hermetic imagination. [chin shine] The uttered paradox is being superimposed upon permuted gibberish. [smoke-stacks] The unuttered paradox is spatially blatant. [dreaded bouncer muscle] What is blatantly gibberish contradicts the hermetic paradigm. [wade in it] The paradigm of gibberish is being interpreted. [ham coop] The unblatant subtext is or is not true. [skin of night] The disassembled truth is false, endless waves of dark root canals. [neck hole] The ultimate poetic truth is percolating inaccurately. [glass pail] The syntax-slang is woven into messy ambiguities. [I forsook the dross] What appears is inaccessible, but the context is disassembled. [O withering shrub of death] An abstract voice is squeaky and true and false. [wetness lettuce] The poetic is extracted while the interpolated is being embedded. [coal necklaces] --Bob BrueckL
Teeth Parched
Teeth Parched pucker sucker hoop poo ah stem or all eh clobbers chatter an quirky my doofus kennel glut yr shithouse pancake hush rankled upstart rutting knob you tore my mugged dung away and tongs uxorious giggling my face -- shush -- hustled between yr hips lop or giggling weeds chugging in the burnishing jerk wood, bean beep, tongue pond gummy the windex codex dip between yr teeth --Bob BrueckL after John M. Bennett
moans wilt wordly
moans wilt wordly as if the screwed night flunked, coming, rubbing details of bluffing absence colliding with audible numbers and weeds, bashed-in skies, it emits twisted assertions, as if the optic inflow was posing; or winding shallow, snagged and bulky shadows were too abusive queue lightly, as if the flaws in ruined icons were rugged diamonds, cubes' pubes, caustic index of phony points or dashes, index of light, flashing flak, glancing carats, repulsed meadows eating azimuth, falcon's stance, clusters of browsing abdomen, rather hacking colors, unusual stances, a sightless paradox uglier imposed visions, flat odd bytes, as if soft decimals would exalt magenta wires, zip-up straws and spank me, magenta decimals exalted like softer visions, as if no one had limits, zippers being zipped off me, soft off, and void raining crap in the lipless vestiges of frozen notches, as if roughly lovely wounds would stutter my lurking until it is done, clumsy chaos of ovals showering down over nobody, such a unique cement lens with the bottom fallen out square crystal radius shadows sprung from glass colons, my abdomen poses like a bleeding rose, sparsely aloft, lovingly rotating, horny totem, croaking talons in ruins, jarringly ambushed condor, haunted eyes as it is being consumed, shreaking, shrinking poet edible air ink, awkward bony threads, the madness of modesty a parsing typo, deadly blasting comets ripping awake, apart, inhibited bone being licked in the cellar creating dashed mates, buffer stirred, suspended, toggling the plasma wrecks, bleeding mergers of burning numbers thrilled to be abruptly nasty, in italics, impressively forging ahead, seeing what is nearer, roaring crudely undoing the omitted waves of memory's grit, perfectly flawed secrets weeping, vast flames of modules popping, forging sordid refrains, narrow rods of pods abating striped bulb humming, ticking, brooding, fucking the nouns in the zodiac, leaking the measure of flowing boxes averting the snow hole, slashed, feeble mole emptied of all its existence flimsy havoc, peeping blonde lunatic almost stellar, flimsy lung moon, havoc of syntax, defining rod being coaxed out of its cheeks, to hung fur effects delete theorems, omit brooding statues, linear eaten ham, pimply faces sounding dead, obliquely blushing verb lover, asshole igniting, ticking genes, neutral crypts, as if the hidden plains could be located bulky passion denoting a mantle aligned with the loudest grudge in the clutch of inertia, taunting the rims of the fluent acronyms wherein less has erred piston loop, split lips, as if thick wordings would listen, verbose clusters of winters ahead, what was sounded was seen, dwindling -- blow me, I'm frozen -- across circles of wrung curves plainly peeping honing in on what is inert, undone, hail, decoded virgin, adoring all wrecks of nouns, ache of beauty, busted wounds waving away gliding unseen, wooden, chartless, retracing the cones on the emptied grid, honing in on the italics on my tongue, smelly name, peek at the boggles, squeeze the comet ticking desires dumping, soft waking, lightened eye, hung nebula over the pasture still quicker sordid distortions, contoured lament, messy metal groping, inert hash, holy magenta leaking, un-arc, beaten sighs, deluge of fiery arrows mimicking me undoing the tangled fractals, the haunted coral is humming, deep holes differ, lies of carved slop beep in the meadow, zoomed accrual, as if, unless concise purity, bluffs of bricks, petty trash wading, optical balls, broken diamond prick orchid waves reflect the gutsy spurts of flames, weeping muscle not yet asleep, sound rays of the owl's angles shining as if blatant cruelty could succumb to one leaf tossing in the mist, revert, medusa, cream breath begrudging the tone of kissed juice's... dripped, swiftly divided, dubbed, stunned, massively clicking, being, peeing, straining at the arctic altar wrung static raw, feel the blatant patches emerging, tangled harrow of belches, retraced notches, taunting audits goofy toy, as if the agony in the conduit was blue, and the dashed stems could see the cruelty of hyphens sucking on it, parsing definitions with the rigor of mashed aspirations finally on the brink of some adoration --Bob BrueckL after Jukka-Pekka Kervinen's 2004 book obeyed dilemma
Meat flab
Meat flab meat pout heaving it deep, crack gash, buzzard gush, bum in the looshit spat, slot rat flab what crack, ice a gush, gag it deepspoon ouch spatloppy mute, loopy lake, smokegag: cumulus flab --Bob BrueckL after John M. Bennett
Meat flab II
Meat flab II Meat pout heaving it deep, crackgash, buzzard gush, bum in the looshitspat, slot rat flab what crack, ice agush, gag it deepspoon ouch spatloppymute, loopy lake, smokegag: cumulus flab --Bob BrueckL after John M. Bennett
Meat flab III
Meat flab III Meat pout heaving it deep, crackgash, buzzard gush, bum in the looshitspat, slotrat flab what crack, ice agush, gag itdeepspoon ouch spatloppymute, loopy lake, smokegag: cumulus flab --Bob BrueckL after John M. Bennett
from JMBs 1991 book WAS AH
--ego statements from John M. Bennett's 1991 book WAS AH, arranged by Bob BrueckL __ bare wires aglint in the dust I, Lessen I bite your thigh... and my lust crimps ...what my eye haunts __ Oh I summoned froth of somnulation I was charmed alarmed, Sorry I, sawed my bitching hairs to you (I was hectic, my screws shelved) (or so I molarized my shirt's blunt lout) ___ Brr, what I called's false doom, ___ What I saw force of whirring your carburetor sweats like my teeth salt fault of my speech swarms like my chirring bores what I gnaw like my eye's locus gloved _ (under the brim I lie) _ like my eyesights bent in my brain back, or my line's shrinking before the wall? I was sent into pain's slack grime (my throughts scull aground) __ Pondering full pandered panties I, bent up my glasses stained with nap nappies... Oh cutie-pie lay on the stairs upordown while I wandered full wondering wavering I, but least your yip yapping's scooting my way (on your hairs I sup, I'm a clown) __ Simulation notation's what I hacking here like I thought no think but's ink passed, But what's this sinks my shirt ___ I donned my pills for that red lake, _ smoke I hid, but yours was the face I fought, laked in the room like my thought spoke... or I'm dribbling still, saving place on my chin for you ___ Shit, I should twaddle? __ But, uh, those blowings or I-drown-in-my-ear, __ It lathered my beard as I left, but my hoping's a string in cement or antacid sinks in my face (teeth coated with the speech I choke) Ah why I pull dull, like my breast swells) _ Like the wind faked death I blew in you, sand planed the lids from my eyes and a come thing I saw, So my puppet twitched (was I fucked or I fucked?) It was my ribs I huffed, ___ My rape's fast falling slime deltas, (but my release's further) Oh my nape's appalling last climb, (and my chittering clothes the same) and my boats are choked like sewers __ That fucking bummer's my meat bed rock? What where surged through my slumping, what slammed my head on the chair? ___ That cheese fluttered vainly in my mouth to you my reach cluttered with soap, As I sloped to you (my beach spewed) (my pizzaed cheeks) But that shirt like a sink blocked up stank 'til I shed, (Oh my seat strewn with pants!) and your certain plug popped I ___ I was barely shirts, (Could I choice those chemi-ropes?) ___ My head with an amphora buried I ought carrying the red anaphore I thought ___ Like I slept, didn't I?, croaked from my lots of it, (I could never bite cloaked-in-spittle hot dugs) like I leapt at you but didn't spill; __ A crate response seethes where my shirts hang, My sliver of will insnides me still or is forth the force to ignore and my boiling eyes are all reaction My late dance flees to dirt, a banging thing against my thigh ___ Like what slivered in my cheek spoke I turned to you, (coughing's my speech dense cup). (lighters in my forearms shiver). Lust quivered in the bleak jokes I burned for you, My false larking's queasy and my hankering's crate Like that pall cloaked my sailing, hope blended with my scattered flailing __ For loosing the sand on the hair I sank, for renewing my hand in the air I drank glue to my hips, spew's spoons crammed in my head... the combers I yearned... _ On the shore I baited my car rusts in the sleet what could I earn? what my worm released ___ What horse like lumber falls in my brain's artery, What courses like thunder walls my pain's lottery, What forces my sundered balls to gain these tawdry cakes, ___ a chair in the face my face sit in half my belly heaped with ants in the bed (over there my red pants, wake for me ___ --ego statements from John M. Bennett's 1991 book WAS AH, arranged by Bob BrueckL
Trash flatulence
Trash flatulence Trash flatulence soaking my shadow in regurgitating buds -- air gnat dawn, rotting dopey sleep blaring thru my lushy niche, stink light, lung-leak yolk-lick, red dog gravel, humping off, deep seep, wallowed in inches sullen smear -- nest guts, lushly stumbling on the crunchy lake: splintered flakes, busted meat. --Bob BrueckL after John M. Bennett
--some John M. Bennett ego phrases
--some John M. Bennett ego phrases arranged by Bob BrueckL I was pitching like I was truculent nor bothered with the throbbing floor I was galling I slept beneath the weeds the stems between my leg I was nodding I was grueling I was chimping I was blowing I was planking I was drubbing I was leeking I sand whistle choking on the chair creeping in the shade you swallow dust for me pork I spackled like your cuke or washed my dimwit cupcake lozenge sticking to my chin I cringed be hind you my back shirt rolling in the winds mud Spree my sopping thinks a clam shot all my squirrelly fingers, placed my throat outside the dung, heaping hoglint I could randomize oh my usher drain in me ! ready reeling I could sanderize stormy stomached I could scandalize plopping pantsdrip I could fathomize clave nor me...held a cracker on my nose -- should my shudder heap your flan? could you fin me just me should my flag wipe your puke? should my drat scald should my pen file your anus? my locksmith sweetness doubled I was crowding past the spindrift I was louding past the scumbags so I blundered toward the sheds and water stomach dreaming in the corn I mattered tooth the rinsing luggage at your the teeming in my pockets shore I lathered with the angles ,ah you napped my horn skulked !cramp lubes ,your shape luggage tranced my craze flooder core I moldered with the chinups :use my skin and lout cashy truncheon lab ored through the creamed hat regurgitation( my rump gash cornered in your flight drug me out on did , what I leaving was a sporefield what I climbing was a blister what I asking was a logger what I blowing was a building spore I sputtered with the lockjaws yelp my solder sharper for a suction stung my thigh damply mouldered in the rinse muscle paginate my leg and clot your cruster sluffs my nap a wallet rotting --some John M. Bennett ego phrases arranged by Bob BrueckL
Contrapuntal funguses
Contrapuntal funguses orange saffron stigmas, knots of turds, wet chartreuse fart --Bob BrueckL
Insomnia haiku
Insomnia haiku breezy night -- dim twigs and stars thru the seeing light __ butt husk paramecium snow wand cut-outs of silence ___ I desire the confusion of feces flung in my face. soul's soil deleted abnegation off white, flat repetition: I enter within I enter with the disguise precisely within the entering I am inserted into the disguise of morning's unimaginable twilight bile. _ Litter lines: I dispute the device I dispute the device within me within the litter lines within me foaming sparks collapse like littler beams, angles of clutter curving into speech fluttering into music. Who disfigured the succulents of light? A quiet finger is up my ass. You may kiss the finger. _ dwarfed by the glory of morning: candor of groans, teflon scratches, cracks, stains, tasteless flesh dilated blossoms, infertile memory coterie _ midriff molting carcinogen rump swabs, capillary twiddles, leakage, ditto calibrate it: suck on my balls. _ spoof spotted behind, forklift of enzyme, dildo teeth _ hardened shivers, mucky vectors, tickled organ, totem burnout __ leaky liquidity wad squalor aplomb mummy furze spastic grapple March 1 chickadee still sleeping --Bob BrueckL
Re: spoony tulip zipper being
spoony tulip zipper being winsome porous O split labia, in whatever weeds you fuck looming whip clipper seeing kingdom snorous know quit flavia, in muck quiver seeds you suck moony underlip, little dipper seeing dome clitoris blow a bit rubia, sin butt never bleeds, you dick blooming strip nipper come into being done amorous whoa, clit alluvia, when suck shiver widow's weeds you lick sooner thunderhip, piddle slipper peeing comb clicker know a lit nubian, trim hut clever speeds, you sink mooning hit knicker home into cleaving run shamer cloaca, sit movieola, send duck liver window's seeds you hick lunar strip, puddle ripper shitting chrome boneshaker, glow a slit shin, rim nut ever breeds, you stink groaning spit snicker tome into relieving bun fucker caca, deposit via end cluck sliver willow's breeds you lovesick knobstick BrueckL n Bennett
Re: spoony tulip zipper being
spoony tulip zipper being winsome porous O split labia, in whatever weeds you fuck looming whip clipper seeing kingdom snorous know quit flavia, in muck quiver seeds you suck moony underlip, little dipper seeing dome clitoris blow a bit rubia, sin butt never bleeds, you dick blooming strip nipper come into being done amorous whoa, clit alluvia, when suck shiver widow's weeds you lick sooner thunderhip, piddle slipper peeing comb clicker know a lit nubian, trim hut clever speeds, you sink mooning hit knicker home into cleaving run shamer cloaca, sit movieola, send duck liver window's seeds you hick lunar strip, puddle ripper shitting chrome boneshaker, glow a slit shin, rim nut ever breeds, you stink groaning spit snicker tome into relieving bun fucker caca, deposit via end cluck sliver willow's breeds you lovesick knobstick summer dip, muddle spitter kicking shone bombmaker, sew a knit bin, hum nutt quiver needs, you blink roaming mitt dicker foam into seething cut clucker sack, reposit chia bends huck silver pillow's deeds you stoveprick hogbick bummer whip, cuddle titter trickling moan instigator, mow a legit fin, cum rut depraver pleads you lip sync foaming zit slicker loam into ding donging smut cocker crack, closet idea portends schmuck flivver sow's prayer beads you shtick dipstick BrueckL n Bennett
Re: spoony tulip zipper being
spoony tulip zipper being winsome porous O split labia, in whatever weeds you fuck looming whip clipper seeing kingdom snorous know quit flavia, in muck quiver seeds you suck moony underlip, little dipper seeing dome clitoris blow a bit rubia, sin butt never bleeds, you dick blooming strip nipper come into being done amorous whoa, clit alluvia, when suck shiver widow's weeds you lick
Little Play. Act 2.
Little Play. Act 2. Scene 1. Lewis LaCook: fragile, bending over the hood, always flatter. off lights, down that black gut, gnashing, flaming. Jukka-Pekka Kervinen: thugs, number, under, during, python, spine, prickle. Lucio Agra: truth, goof, thou. Scene 2. Bjorn Magnhildoen: promiscuously hypersensitive to sound. Speck spot. Gregory Severance: under stars electric snowflakes blue gushing night lovers caress inside empty. John Lowther: flarf I'm still mulling over to hear anyone piece. Lewis LaCook: breathing heavily, sharply, spraying clouds sky until slate-frail firmanent. nothing in me drags their eyes, slathered their disarray... Halvard Johnson: emptiness. melting. stitch. not a ruse. Far afield, in abeyance. Silent voices. Scene 3. Peter Ciccariello: inner. Alan Sondheim: hacks. screw up. sticky. Different. ambiguity. idea. poem, butt, lube! sucks! actually. alone, spectrum. brain. wool. stick in our craw. holy! Hm. My love. Ishaq: gracious violence, crazier, slaughter, illogical parasitic. pain? quiet little, shadow? broken. errors, stashing, never. displaced, radiated. poverty. asses off. odd. scared... Scene 4. John M. Bennett: sticky flopped inside stroke lubrication smirk spat squirming grease ,gleaming butt brunt botch under undulate spit sore suck hack crust bleeding chop spray toilet sot pissing Geert Dekkers: bodies. Faucet. SEEPAGE. Thomas savage: Colophon, Semicolon, Hyphen, Hymen, little blue lights blink on. Naming. What am I all about? flesh. number. Scene 5. Dirk Vekemans: Splendour, entry. Lanny Quarles: leaps upon, up into the air, intoning bard: Out, idle words, shallow, sounds! Redolent with baroque immanence. predicament. paradox. pleasure, circle. stone body. Substance. lexicon. unknown. doubt. nothing, humid, webs, connotation, facts, appearances, seed, literal, metaphorical, circumstantial. mIEKAL aND: broken violin. Everything falling over, pixilating the smear. Allen Bramhall: Descend, descend, descend, descend. dispassionate, poetry being insulted, descend, definitively, boozy, sough, bottom Word. Sheila Murphy: breathing, thick, white, tinted cloud. treble feather dipped in shock ink. opaque, drizzle, emerald dimension. litmus curls. box, dulcet, entropic, force. color leitmotif. Always love. Dan Waber: muscles and shaggy head. voice, waver, eyes, ass. Scene 6. Lanny Quarles: prone. folio, starfish, mystic. nuts, spells: Hydra, heart, bones. notes, awkward, adamant, deliciously wobbly. describe, lines. In other words, analogue to the trope. Throat, flesh, actual. language, part of a subtextual conceit, technical, dyad, texts, in dialect against, echoed. Chorus, enter, daggers, jabbing, vile, lovely, to bellow, eat. enacts not a singing but, cutting, conceit, now being revealed as a synecdoche, only. paradoxical convergence. evinced, fuzzy, grotesque, primordial, vaguely, skulls, hollow, writhing, rancor, baroque. stabbed. alluding, rustic. quivering, tear it, cutting, illuminated, truncated, pretty, pupa. Suck. turquoise fluid, emerges, trickster, grid of precious, spontaneous mutation within, semiotic. THE END --Bob BrueckL
Poem
Poem stamen I implore, ache my suitcase, What'd I say? I he snagged the flaucet gum beading soupy, my flank-sought tie flank laky slurping cast the row lake slup: dang throat I hosed, I lungish, my held the belt he cusp, I came, steady dream nosed my boat sang all ha name, my body's meat, less my feets' strewn page, my crap pond hushed, ah your war's gasp's mine, burning umbrels crossed I the smoke released inside, I gain relieving, your belly's fish a-floppin' I, yes my pee's room, for all I saw dust was, so I layed those bugs, taped my tail, yes my mail's laid, in my pockets I felt the leaking, before I came you scribbled here and dribbled after, bird sluffs down twitched head little dusty bugs press against the glitter-wall where I thought I drink but stared: like my dream's sinking to the astral mothers, I need to breathe I stared, my boat's in you or lip yclept, fallows was I cloned to you surpation spread me, glance on me I'm Dawn and Socks, orange balls throbbing in smoke, I was sighed with, breathed outside the lens or faced my fairly hair of lifting, oh I renewed and, I ask myself, Will I ever be? I'm crouched beneath the grape arbor watching a refrigerator burn in the yard, My tone ignited off sleep or face, how'd I hoping my eyes under that faltered lust, wristed moon you masticate my calendar's crumpled ball, your ash on chair I floated pages and, I fingered noise and night, your pleasant foam improvement rains my belly flags, place your nets across my belly for the stains removes, Oh how-de-I o'er 'er raring thighs flailing a thrust -- fire I could claim but window, spoonish dribble you I train inhales, Spit it out I urge, thighs flowing past my head desired crash, claims of roofs fulfilled I, my teeth in you, 's my tongue down there, ears showing like the sores I kept, I was handing off, ah's my numb throat's so alter-trashed, stay shivers off but I was waiting for you key dandled limply scans the, folded to me's, breathing sheety I was able could you bare your flanges I would spread my hands like sand maps breeching stream the lurking hair, rasping my hand on my teeth, valleys starve the endings rear I knew, I, (I), brew your spatters me, No slob or hat was he nor I, combination of the wire-sink foamy turds I phoned your scattered leavings, Oh my labile pants-matters, I see a thick black word pushing out its mouth, wrong division of my plated soup, you and I, painspill screen slippers past my cheek slag sinkers tune of off clangers roost your rampart breathing through compression pills in loops: (I), (oh my), where muddy forks where lovely clumps beside my, clamps and cheeks my wristful glance before your gate gate? --Bob BrueckL all phrases from John M. Bennett poems
blare clangers wood stinging regurgitation bile
blare clangers wood stinging regurgitation bile What forces my sundered balls to gain these tawdry cakes, blare clangers wood stinging regurgitation bile Shit, I should twaddle? seed stumbled taint bending crunched inches or I'm dribbling still, saving place on my chin for you fog apse plash off toilet hole. Pondering full pandered panties I, spud rubber node clanks gushy blister I donned my pills for that red lake, trance scalding tracing flakes' stunning melt like my eyesights bent in my brain back, blister dug flapper heel dunk trance Oh I summoned froth of somnulation brightly deep sop tore fluttered shatters Brr, what I called's false doom, stunning gall blade rinsed clangers stink what I gnaw (loves) like my eye's locus gloved flatulence crawl splintered bloom bud sunk (was I fucked or I fucked?) loot powder why dab slope splash It lathered my beard as I left, inch glance gnat splash sodden dread That fucking bummer's my meat bed rock? dawn slab floated long leaked dead (I could never bite cloaked-in-spittle hot dugs) Bob BrueckL words phrases from some John M. Bennett poems
Little Play, 1 Act, 3 scenes.
Little Play, 1 Act, 3 scenes. Scene 1. Dan Waber: The silence between words Lanny Quarles: scabs Alan Sondheim: filtered until patterns are discerned. mIEKAL aND: One word. Bob BrueckL: If only I could never be there enough. Lewis LaCook: for Mary. John Lowther: I am, I am, I'm, I am, I am, I'm, my true love, anyhow that's me. But I am up for what comes. Lucio Agra: Gorgeous ambience. Scene 2. Allen Bramhall: startled and palpably touched, paradise knows, dingbats, too abstruse, murmuring, smoke of poems, infringing, with the rinds of candied limes, in proportion to, they were cloudy, and very grainy, unveiled before Alan Sondheim: The others are long-wire sounds. Sheila Murphy: What a beautiful piece Harrison Jeff: or waking to spectral Alan Sondheim: The shuddering, sky-murmur, untuned, U-shaped long wire antenna. Spectrum, aurality, digital, raw, stars John M. Bennett: an a dumpster, melting, crust, rot, dim, jot, eat, sprawl, rumple, smouldered, toothache, swarm, bile Tony Trigilio: intersect the lines of this x from its cross. Radiant rants Scene 3. Bjorn Magnhildoen: what, can you change it left? Come when I am here, dissolving substance, zero bites hard. Jukka-Pekka Kervinen: floppy, whack impact, proposition, discontinuity, speech, interface, map Alan Sondheim: Now it appears in dreamtime. Sacrifice of being siphon cipher hyphen chasm Allen Bramhall: silver-plated, signal, grazing, fire, balls, your head to desire is a woman, bottom, roughly towards, tinges towards, wireless Alan Sondheim: I create forms and spaces so that bodies may sway and move to distinct modalities. CURTAIN --Bob BrueckL
Naughtily
Naughtily If only I could never be there enough. I could never implement the factual reflections. I could never suck on the irrefragable susurration. I could never be a dead-on butt stain. If only I could naughtily be a piece of anything, I would only be a hollow wire with a blue spectral line streaming thru it. If only I could perforate a radiantly anticlimactic seedpod I could then be a fleshy rhizome, or the configuration of a dumbbell. But I could never permeate the admixture of impurity and purity. If only I could rescind the saponaceous static of whiteness. If only I could be a discolored isotope. If only I could be tainted with the withering fission of knowing I could lash and flail about seared disseminations, then I could collide with the pitch of this very singed tone. If only nothing were salvageable. If only my mesmerized precision wasn't decaying. If only I wasn't entranced by the aerial, the indigenous wouldn't be spellbinding. If only I could catalyze what is hardly ductile, I would then excoriate the oblong beams in your faceless name. --Bob BrueckL
I am in heat
I am in heat I am in heat this shiny morning iridescent brass tacks in tossed light dropping droppings sans-serif udder ache in light deflowered -- glare not to breathe nearer or beyond night's runnel leaf, a gory glory, light being unconceived -- --Bob BrueckL
Red on yellow
Red on yellow Black white on pink vertical polarization My decoder is broken. The dummy sprouts quondam nonsense stultifying the color of hash's starchy disposal, grudgingly blouses compresses initializing a tantrum atop unused senselessness's wake mode which inflicts memory. You squandered the pause button, and the necessary kernels of collusion, instellar sperm. --Bob BrueckL some words appropriated from Jukka-Pekka Kervinen's zone (2): 0 pages
Re: Yelp
Sorry, Allen, but all the words are directly from JMB's poems! Bob BrueckL __ From: Allen Bramhall [EMAIL PROTECTED] Date: Wed Jan 18 11:57:24 CST 2006 To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Subject: Re: Yelp [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote: Yelp Yelp for a thigh rinse I cringed Oh me! spree shot stormy plopping paginate my ass cheeks paginate my balls I luggage I angle I fin I blister I cramp I corn I clam I spore I trance I finger I dung I throat I mud I wind I behind I i shore ,ah you lubes , craze core my rump drug me scumbags anus skin and lout the creamed gash -- puke wince -- blundered stomach what what what what --Bob BrueckL (words appropriated from John M. Bennett poems) I like the short lines, different (so far as I know) from your usual. and even tho you derive this from John's work, the vocabulary is distinctly yours. Allen
John M. Bennett phrases
some John M. Bennett phrases I cringed be hind you my back shirt rolling in the wind?s mud Spree my sopping thinks a clam shot all my squirrelly fingers, placed my throat outside the dung, heaping hoglint I could randomize oh my usher drain in me ! ready reeling I could sanderize stormy stomached I could scandalize plopping pantsdrip I could fathomize clave nor me...held a cracker on my nose -- should my shudder heap your flan? could you fin me just me should my flag wipe your puke? should my drat scaldmylocksmith sweetness doubled I was crowding past the spindrift I was louding past the scumbags should my pen file your anus? so I blundered toward the sheds and water stomach dreaming in the corn I mattered tooth the rinsing luggage at your the teeming in my pockets shore I lathered with the angles ,ah you napped my horn skulked !cramp lubes ,your shape luggage tranced my craze flooder core I moldered with the chinups :use my skin and lout cashy truncheon lab ored through the creamed hat regurgitation( my rump gash cornered in your flight drug me out on did , what I leaving was a sporefield what I climbing was a blister what I asking was a logger what I blowing was a building spore I sputtered with the lockjaws yelp my solder sharper for a suction stung my thigh damply mouldered in the rinse muscle paginate my leg and clot
Yelp
Yelp Yelp for a thigh rinse I cringed Oh me! spree shot stormy plopping paginate my ass cheeks paginate my balls I luggage I angle I fin I blister I cramp I corn I clam I spore I trance I finger I dung I throat I mud I wind I behind I i shore ,ah you lubes , craze core my rump drug me scumbags anus skin and lout the creamed gash -- puke wince -- blundered stomach what what what what --Bob BrueckL (words appropriated from John M. Bennett poems)
Wild daylily
Lily dimple Slug shadow dim wind tore wisps wet shadow dim wind tore wisps wet dim wind tore wisps wet slug wind tore wisps wet slug shadow dim tore wisps wet slug shadow wisps wet slug shadow wet slug shadow dim wind tore wisps slug dim wisps tore wind wet shadow dim wet slug tore shadow wind wisps wet dim slug wisp's wind tore shadow wind torn shadow slug wet wisps' din wind dim shadow slug wet wisps torn dim shadow slug tore wind wet wisps wet slug shadow dim wind tore wisps ah, shadow dim wind tore wisps dim wind tore wisps wet wind tore wisp's wet slug tore wisps' wet slug's shadow tore wisps wet slug shadow dim tore wet slug shadow dim wind tore slug meadow dim wind torn dim wind tore wisp's wispy wet slug meadow wind tore wisps wet slug meadow tore wisps wet slug meadow wisps wet slug meadow wet slug meadow wisps slug meadow wisps meadow dim wind tore wisps wet slug meadow tore wisps wet slug's meadow's wind wisps wet slug meadow torn wisps wet slug meadow wisps wet slug meadow worn torn meadow slag wet wisps tore wind dim shadow slug wet wisps tore wind dim shadow slug wisps wind torn wind tore dim shadow slug tears wind dim shadow slug wind dim shadow slug dim winding wind shadow slug lung slung wisps tore wind dim shadow slug wet tore wind dim shadow slug wet tore wind dim shadow slug wet tore dim wind shadow slug wet tore shadow dim wind slug wet tore slug wet dim wind shadow torn wet torn slug wet wet shadow slug wet slag heap slug torrent slug shadow dim wind tore wisps wet tore wet shadow dim wind wisps wet tore wet dim wind wisps wet tore wet wind tore wisps wet tore wet tore wisps wet tore wet wisps wet tore wet turret --Bob BrueckL after John M. Bennett's Temple Hill
Tingly
Tingly Shattered rocks of stars, the silence is too factual: thicknesses of memory -- to maneuver thru them obsessed with the subtleties of vast piles of excrement. --Bob BrueckL
Still teat
Still teat Each ache sham ham teat cupboard puke boar drat gnats rear ray ear peels sleep peals slapped pears sudden doze teflon icy dice moo mow toilet hoot toot pours pores spurt syrup erupts purrs pure knuckle nails hunk lien easel release wails slime emits slaw mace crammed rough huggies ego wok leer lame sneak dander teal chin lies dell jack still char incur porsche wrecked chain saw aloof --Bob BrueckL
Re: dopamine
mIEKAL: I can't say for sure what edge, if any, I have from being diagnosed as bi-polar II, especially since I also have an obsessive-compulsive disorder, which has been far more painful and destructive in my life. I also have never published a book of poems. No edge there. So the edge might be only in somehow being able to more easily ignite my thoughts when I am experiencing a natural HIGH, and an ability (or disability) in being able to feel more deeply when in a depressed state. One is more delicate and elegant, dare I say? We of the craft are all crazy, remarked Lord Byron about himself and his fellow poets. Some are affected with gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched. I recommend a book called TOUCHED BY FIRE: Manic-Depressive (bi-polar) Illness the Artistic Temperament, by Kay Redfield Jamison. It is available in paperback, and used copies are available for under $5 dollars at Amazon. About 100 customer comments at Amazon will also definitely let you know whether you would want to read the book or not. Bob BrueckL From: mIEKAL aND [EMAIL PROTECTED] Date: Sat Dec 17 09:47:05 CST 2005 To: WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA Subject: Re: dopamine On Dec 17, 2005, at 9:43 AM, Vernon Frazer wrote: HI Bob You rmessage just vanished when I tried to reply a moment ago, so I'm responding to the parts I remember the best. A fair number of our greatest writers have been bipolar. My diagnosis 11 years ago taught me the influence brain chemistry has on creativity. Writing isn't easy, so we have to use anything that gives us an edge. I'm curious what edge your bipolarity gives you?
That dopamine buzz
Buffered chasms stashed in the memory of ions across a resonant hoard of membranes emitting a subdued luster in the hidden sockets of logorrhea, the exacting concoction of a seductive night entangled up in the dopamine buzz of an unused anus in a fired kiln. --Bob BrueckL
Emily Dickinson is 175
Emily Dickinson is 175 (b. Dec. 10, 1830) Crossbones, altimeters of gristle, aquamarine homophones, radioactive turquoise, pimples on my rearend on the fringe of death. The unruly eyelid of the amperage is wary, a rimmed paradox, a prevarication breeding holes without names, without manes. The stigmatized meat is asleep in the lonely field of a fractal. How will I augment my purloined I, my i: meme mime that is mine? The memo to my I was dissected: my o was screwed by a broken lightbulb. The metallic waste tasted like dead cilia. I failed to feel how I felt; I could not feel. The mirages are secreting savage snorts of extreme flatnesses, movements of disconsolate sinuousness to the chagrin of the narrow moonlight. Aqueous, pink stench, purple petroleum fur in the trench-mouth of twilight: the neon grist is a gimmick, so bash in the cladding on its nose cone. --Bob BrueckL after Jukka-Pekka Kervinen's -rwxr-xr-x
Quidnunc
Quidnunc Limbs of voices paginate my prick, stapled stains, ectoplasm's waffle. Scabrous sourpuss, lash the wads pistol-whipped diachronically. --Bob BrueckL
Unwoven poem
Unwoven poem To possess and demodulate a cipher wallowing on the wings of an interleaf where nodes of another exhaust discern the bloodsucking sextants of interspersed beings (rhizome, corm, tuber) on the cylindrical coils of a mucked up rotten disk swallowing a dash of burnt umber in one gulp :: To flax with the gibes of a gaseous hatchel slinging sticky spatter around without even one inhaled hyphen of secreted xococ xocolatl in sight :: To flog the vestige of a dumpy rod with a hollow core memory intensifying a magnetic field by the windings of an asexual splitting into fragments of fissional unicellular nuclei cleaving to a double curve with the shape of an elongated S :: To minify a hollow cosmogonic floating point soaked in a chasm of piteous non-linear eardrums shafting the flue of a conical utensil that mooches off the act of embodying an incorporeal fucklessness that emits a fickle shininess precipitated by the folioing of what palliates unnumbered leaves drenched in the slickest intervening of adroit slipperiness :: (to be continued) --Bob BrueckL after Jukka-Pekka Kervinen's -rwxr-xr-x
Woven poem
Woven poem To deseed the modules of lethargy in the fluid night of liver lust all scrunched up down in the dawn of the thyroid where parasite-lipstick-wonks drone on about drooping clusters of thrashing text. --Bob BrueckL
after Jukka-Pekka Kervinen's -rwxr-xr-x
after Jukka-Pekka Kervinen's -rwxr-xr-x Tuned, rooted device, id interleaving :: empty withering :: mildew in a low light roots :: diluted impugned with crepuscular twilight twitches roots :: infringing on the tepid shrinking of gnarled stillnesses id :: inside out, touted as my initial initial shimmering in a whirligig of dung interfacing hard-nosed zeroes interleaving:: with squealing rubber this circular root :: brazen ribs flaring up to flutter against a whirlpool of boos catcalls other rooted devices rooted roots interleaving with the id :: of gas nozzles root quintessentially leaning toward :: muted tingling excavations pungent :: interleaving devices blustery :: moccasins root stance interleaving :: sur une table puss gaff :: cosy rooted psalm interleaving index :: tongue meat pimples negligently contrary :: off-white spitball falsetto shaken reflections :: diaper shock __ root deliciously tune device id interleave interleave id interleave root root root root root id out interface hard-nosed zero interleave this circular root root device root root interleave root root id root root quintessential toward root interleave device interleave moccasin device root stance root root interleave cosy psalm root interleave contrary negligent reflection falsetto shaken ___ Delicious root deliciously rooted deliciously tuned device, circular zero device interleaving with a falsetto psalm cosy psalm root, root it, root it out, root out the root's stance contrary to the quintessential hard-nosed id -- id it out. --Bob BrueckL
Mr. Pelt
Mr. Pelt Purple scars, purple scars, screeching, purple lines, streetcars, purple ticking, purple ticking tingle, heavy load, liquid load, load, coal light scratching, blurring, blowing, purple blue light white, heaviness of balls, bulbous breasts, Venus breasts, liquid light scarred, strident signature, shrill, shrill blur, boo booze, singular scat lines, vibrating wires, comma, comma chime, coma, orgasm coma, comma chimes boom, mute boom, drawn out, pure pipes, pure pipes draining, draining ooze, drain ooze chiming, tingling plops, whodunit smack the snooze button, seesaw, smack the snooze button, seesaw, smack the snooze button, seesaw, we will open her with broken arms, smack the snooze, seesaw, we will sew her up with smack, we will smack her up with broken buttons, with fragments of smack, of snow, seesaw See sea, see sore, sea shore, seesaw, see whore, see hole, be whole, before, be blue, sea sore, sea sea, see shore, whore shore, saw shore, whole whore, see whole before, be, rubber slobber, be, gagging chimney, iPOD ripper sucked, misspelt The ugly lily is wool after all the pressed pressure is hardly amethyst :: exert grunt :: and the steepness of the egg in the snow where no sun pinches the irrevocable wetness hardly collides with the gummy scissors being rinsed tremendously in the mouth of wood silence, actually the mouth wool silence shining, breaking the only presence where there is no sun pining singularly and the uglier is blessed blowing me, blowing me away, blowing the blur, blowing the blur bone, blurring the blown blue bone in the presence of the unblessed. Exeunt Omnes, shin bur-burnished, nicked skin, Miss Pelt. --Bob BrueckL
Wild cherry blood
Wild cherry blood Wild cherry blood in the veins of the stars: will the hue subdue the moaning of the perniciousness hovering over the avaricious incoherence of the forgotten verb. Will it lessen the dazzling delight it arouses in the precious artifice of idleness. Plainly imagine an exact difference all alone, but not a lugubrious repetition. Can you hear the air in my asshole giggle like a lunatic in a steamer trunk. I am in love with only one syllable. In the profuse moonscape of a puddle, the sodden smoke is artificial when I choke on it, an apricot pit. Are the disturbed disturbed by a constant vegetative tone. Gesticulations mutter as I adorn my anal opening with a little dab of rancid sparks indifferent to being pierced. I was imperfectly irritated by pieces of noise, leaf meat, a fireless splintering off in the steel box of pleasure breathing snapped syllables, the distressing whirl in the rose, the actual aching glory being retracted unless it is plainly unshattered. You will utter my stringy name. You will never see any resemblances in a heap of coincidences, unless clouds of pansies and parasites are anemic to the descending accumulation of excrement. Shiny muscle in my mouth, silence of the sentence's shallow breathing in the vicious turd's curl. Flashes of chalky teeth bellow unflattering, immensely bitter secretions of tremors. Vivacious swirl of shit, piles of lipless nipples silenced, aghast. Mingling in the fluttering twinkling, the thicker colors feel the recalcitrant pinching, the inundated pure commotion of wolfing it down unflinchingly. Shit smeared in my beard, fucking your balls: I know, I know, I see, I hear. I can scarf up the pensive gayety of the calamitous piss as softening drafts ooze in under the backdoor of a summer morning, interwoven within the sheen of roiled simmerings wrenched to clash with the hindmost gouache, a ghostly tract inflection nudging itself to itch against the sweaty nuts pressuring the doorknob backwards. Polyp-less pimply map scurrying toward my 4 root canal tributaries, tassels of testicles, I was taciturn -- snickering chills fever warts -- plummeting petticoats scrambling to line up with the perpendicularity of the beige havoc screwing the gashed tones in a heap of (heart-throb honed) hidden organ pipes, a cow's switch, butch bitch, permeating the quintessence of my roseate anus when unstressed, the unreal music of the indented, the defused, the imperturbability of existing in actuality with the absence of an overt copula: to inunct, anele, or embrocate a volatile liniment of massless flaws bafflingly dispelled in the ethyl ether of transverse, liquefiable flattery. --Bob BrueckL
Shyster
Shyster Was oil? Was it swapped often. Was the id. Was the id in the dump. Was the oily fur assulted once too often. Was the oil interleaved with the sorrow. Was the fluffiness like death. Was the dump only a memory. Is the fur a device to be destroyed in bitter grief. I will rejoice with the transsexual fur. Will I assult you with the interleaving grub. Will the id of the fur be opposed to the deformed fluffiness of the rusty rage. Will the configuration of our genitalia be swaddled in a plastic device. Was slippery oil on the transsexual fur. Can you interleave my memory with your hidden root. Will what is in the wasted box perish. Alleluia! Will you swap the plastic for the eaten device. The Lord be with you. The Lord will be with you. The Lord is with you. Is the id of the Resurrection deformed. Who will oppose the black lung of my being. Is the oozing root in the dump of hell. Is memory rubberized in the box with others. Was oil wasted on the head in the box. May I eat the gnarled trite root. Will we ever eat grub again. Will the blood in the veins of the stars fall out of the sky, for I am a swollen roseate anus, a sluggish twinge strewn about, flush with the sawdust mucus that meddles with a nimble ruby cunt. Will we swap what has been wasted and eaten. Was the fluffiness of oil interleaved within the swapped memory of the hard-nosed latex. Ram my thin vulnerable veil of skin if our dumpy sub-contract is stinky. Decode my hole, smoky fire, flickering light. Has our id been deformed forever. Was what was wasted fur. Will the devious memories of others be only a device. Will what is swapped be forsaken. Will you eat the feathers of the transsexual's eyelid id. Will the id be opposed to the deformed sub-contract in the gutter. Will the grub in the box be interleaved with the leaves of memory. Will the transsexual gnaw on the fake waste. Will the hard-nosed assault be nothing but damp fur to the oily eye of the broken-necked owl. Was the root device a hidden whole. Was the box wasted. Fuck it up into my soft spot a little harder. Will the fluffiness be totally forgotten in the grubby box. Will we eat the deformed transsexual's interleaving sub-contracts down in the cellar. Was the memory of the fur-lined box opposed to the deformed streamers screaming Bon Voyage. Rant and vent, bitch, with all the angels, for I am the bread of death, the ego-ace plopping puke down the streaks of your jockstrap -- rabid asshole -- bark and squirt it off: sac, tube, butt, tote, mutt, totem scrotum, tar-turd lard, loosely suckled spokes, icicle mercury, missal silo, IV'd dwarf knuckles, porky dork, piping towhee, shyster. --Bob BrueckL (some words appropriated from Jukka-Pekka Kervinen's self test
Fucked-up shit
Fucked-up shit Such suck as this is then a wince: senseless silence -- my name is singed. Pithy slippages off-kilter, assignation of minced cant inexactly wrenched, less hue outshining the kickass spritz, outpouring little until unkindly cringes swivel toward my uninflected booty, tacitly empty, is all abuzz. The hollow indifference is foiled on the furrows of the tungsten: periphery of nutshells, bolts of vapor, soot and spit, scrunched up shambles, whooping umbrellas incisively outshining a swath of velocity along the narrow midriff of the mummy's dilated rectum, lard bodice wrested from eaten clefs, stunted inner glimmer withered and warped, imparting to me a tingling ache apart. I, a haystalk, I, aghast, I secrete tremors, I, a vetter of chimes, I, a piece of wetter shit, my namesake recalcitrant, knocked up, my blown dickhead appearing peculiar, a shitting stammer, it is not in him -- this is the error of light: I succumb to being numb to it. My clitoris, be blest in lessening the hardening hackles of appalling emotion, wounds wonking out, winking cut-outs, spoiled snot, dong bumping against the pew in the mist of heaping toilets twinkling mute. Distension dumbfounded, weaned, buckling, I succumb to the tousled fraying of cum. Will my dong-shit shit-out the spilt or split hue, secretive namesake being blue? Gutless inert innards in traction, this overweening subfusc is excreted in my breast milk: White Star, Moet et Chandon. Stick a fuchsia in my asshole; the heliotrope is mine, unlike the randy stud's marinated turds. Inelastic, festooned, inculcated with the vestiges of hernia repercussions, dongs bitchin' in the breeze, leaky machinery, rectitude's collusion, nestling compressions: induce me, virgins, veins -- bedew me with your shrinking, the radiance of inches; bedew me with the pallor of blond bile; acquiese to my repetitions, my finicky subterfuge, so unalike the gall of knaves, litter, husks decrying, bellowing, mine, not a shred of shredded evidence, ewe, accoutrement, blandished putty, fiendish fork, engorged, hullabaloo, waning diphthong not being assuaged: whodunit? --Bob BrueckL
Spazz
Spazz Thence thrice abrasions smudged abashed repercussions, dwindled predilections in the rock light, pederasty in the pockmarked spunk of the sky. Cribbage mattress boombox, dregs pastiche I abhor slack, the speech of sleep, gusts of light bruising intestines' intensities within the softness of a weather vane scuttling dissensions one could rectum in vain. Stone milk radar wood vortex straddling the suctioned eggcup's vein What the fuck, my ass is a hole in which my ego sprouts irreducible dictations, fuck-off addages in the ablative glare of wads of dead chewing gum, alluring teat spit flattener -- sip sheer imbroglio of the electric snake eeking out a death. Velveteen darts spark fake wires, crimson liar sunrise trellis loins Abashed, I abhor the ablative of dwindling fucks in which my ego is scuttled in the face of rectum addages, a bebop butt evincing chockablock air pockets to writhe around in the hackneyed foam. Celluloid charcoal fur flap hooker, bog grid sod gas harpies Lozenge fossils adder whelm morn, cellophane duffle bag bleeding stomach He was not had in the hewn thicket of the ditches' castrated teeth. Dry-ice hard-on forearm swizzle swatch Fur uppers zapping the noisome gewgaw's tongue marrow Synchronized pouch pliers mump jowl Metastic spad treed bunt whomp, mauve knob Litmus hiccups sorghum anchorite glyph Forage pith bout scow douse Deloused lexicon reddog mewlings rottenstone Fetch mine mime mettle dwindle belfry hyphen diurnal tarp froth Wary pumice trifle eft troth, nota iota zoo ooze dungarees Minnow whine drub sass shucks Intransitive scansion's denatured lief swagger Contra dicked, geeky gland gone red popsicle elbow, crazy bone streetcar barn smacker, remnant blat Dozing off, I had not had what was sidling up to the waves of petals around the seepage of your asshole halo, lassitude of a pile of propellors. Plat lathe nates crenulated tines, tuba larva in the bend ahead Gimme that stained burgundy swag 'n' let's gnaw on a noun. The darkness is all alone, the stare of night touches it, it is touching as it penetrates the darkness like a lit-up fuck-up being fucked-up. Cabbage vapor, awl pyrite crabs, rusty muff whist waft nozzle, velous versal plait, tout, incontinent scape pose Then to it, into it, intuit, intuit it too, in two, et tu, two too, tutu: the dope of remembrance suffocates roses, you dipshit towelette lover. --Bob BrueckL
Spilt light
Spilt light Dong butter gnurl noose, plowed glaucous legs smoke, shattered spat shadow whistle, cream bleating hog crusted, the face inside the wrinkled shrub is empty diaper, light mud. Dander blood on the doorknob, rat sable nope gushed, floppy plunger outside in the fridge, throat grease snort, strokes the wet eyes of the heaving bile tube simp sump. Punge black back, funnel flop, knocked up map. Shattered ham map drool, fungus slather crushed my clangor clouds, peeling away growling -- blade sock crawl suck slunk -- munching isolabic on the beached cow, kinda lung slung where I unbob in the foam. My plunging clods of light are glaucous around the spandex flack of tulip blood clonking; I dread the unglaucous sores on the loaf of porn broth, clamor of my dead rat flab. The flaming sky's panting curves are shat carnage across the bundled heads of muscles blinking, putrid bandolier in the sock's breast shadow, sot, my blood blot tooting clots. Sprayed on wrinkled enamel, my guts ate the spilt light plunged in spandex, pistol panting curves across the head-shat streaks of unpuckered sleep, my blindless tooth. You wet loon torn glancing, stroked wet funnel, flopped lungs, glaucous sky's flaming flack rinsing away the peeled tulips, my spongy mouth bile meat slapped around like mold wind clanging against the upchucking flagpole. Couch moult, night sky enters my flameout, stroked spills flecked across the butt tub razing the carnage of muscled grasses, guttered ping shine drippings in the gravy. Bonker turds, my throat flops inside the cornea of the eaten hyacinth, stroked eyes of the masticated head drain clusters, my swiped hole: rotting hint. Sorta damp, oily breast milk, clods of clouds, barely putrid stockings hung by the snorting heads gleaming. Basement shadow nap, potboiler, bandolier moult shat the pencil stub panting in the lather of the dusty glaucous streaks beneath the light-curved stubble of anorexic sleep, swollen sky's muscle peeled away: unwet gnawed head jutting, wet pill in the putrid shrub, clangor carnage wrinkling pants, peeled muscle blood of grass, fuckless dander sludge in the leafless shade. Popped plunge polyp plops a round of grit, enters my throat, hammer ticking spandex flops, unfocused breast fart lapels, unlike drowsing socks, lighter fluid stench inside the snorkling eye of porking, stroked head-eaten petals beneath the sodden shingled light, noose of light, moulting pills spilling across my three breast, heliotrope-slick beasts of the paps, funnel clunking the pencil snot muscle eraser, flipping back on the glaucous fiery tips in the straight darkness of kink clustered round the dinky face off in the cracked eye dropper. --Bob BrueckL (all words from John M. Bennett poems)
Amok
Amok Now my spade is suctioned out, not my execrated bum rungs, the blonde coal glow of my latrine wrist, it is not my lattice licked by no one but you, stalled aphid in the, I dunno, snatch? hear the arse rays hay air yawn -- bent panties not in my presence, not in my striated diacritical terseness, not in my tottering eye in the infatuated vitrine flunking to hear me embellish my graspable saliva strings, you cannot hear the tin niche in the mine, can you? Not in my dented dome chrome, not in yr accelerating flint erupting in my nozzle's veins, my hour mottled frond crud, my torn codes jerking off upon the roughage behind the perspiring kneecaps of words, fragments of the bubbling bulk of my staggering behind, behind my stalled breathing gone amok -- my extra crispy cheapness, not humbleness, not my wavering dullness lost like a doorknob in the sight of putty lips, brick stallions trundling after a box of creaking tails, the feeling of sinking death stinking up my striated mines -- they are all mine, it's awful, not hours, not yours: warped vulvar carillons, barbed male teat meat, sweltering vulval flow, one flaw-shrinking snot-softened leaf, my bilious dimness tangled up with the paraleipsis of constipated excrescences' pure pink succor-beguiling precipices -- O my shattered I is not worn out without me, without you within this wee hoarfrost hour, retching threadbare windshield popped out, ineradicably, beside the junkyard graveyard -- rehearse the slangy obliquity of the burbling blurb --Bob BrueckL
Spore bang nodding craw slop
Spore bang nodding craw slop clouds debris stone stone plop damp nudge hung greased slung bustling kinda boll bonker ping tooth pencils shudder cuddle torn dink lark nap porn shuddered swallow couch flake plunger inch blew popped tube sorta where you dong lungs clotted stomach sock slather butt pap trice dank blat deep spat fart claw blade hole bile cowl bog ham splash pore gall grime gnat dome shudder bung junk presto claw snot snot neck flab spun lens ham nut rat map dander spat spayed shovel chewed hint beam drain rash sleeve seep siphon --Bob BrueckL (all words from John M. Bennett's poems)
Sky skin
Sky skin irksome vulva linchpin, upended scalpel, sordid afflatus, pearlescent bungling undone: it's a heckuva unglued anus, dust of meat it is still in me it has not been withdrawn it is not moving it is unmoving it is still where the giddiness is enchanted fatter anus limbs of sunlight in rut, drooling out of here, out of air, hare air, are hairs here, hair air, airs of hair, hairy hare airs, airy air airs of air, immediate stagnation, wrangling airs, air of rears, blood bone fickle feelings had atrophied, had he come to hear I had rigor mortis, to heave Agamemnon's vulva... plucked cad redacted, disrupted, decapitated, dead penises, sneezes in the slammer as the wind dew twitches and dwindles the bleating chimes on my nibbled vulva I love blossoms of excrement, oval and nondescript calves of cinctures strangling my cracked porcelain vulva, softening the disparity of wetly clasping my ludicrously gnawed vulva zone scorched pellucid wormy nodules, doodles of conflated velleities, tenebrous warping, puffed-up faltering in the mouth of yr dainty vulva swallowing swathes of sky skin, deepest lard dissolving sallow in the void of the shrub's disengaged vulva suckin' stitches, frazzle-dazzle waning trachea mop sounding out our prettiest vulva superseding olfactory frills of rapturous preterition mimicking the loam of my corduroy vulva decomposing copious mutton Maryland crapcakes cranked up to be shredded holes quaffing the disgrace of grace, foie gras, foliage flak, O my imitation marine green Ollie North vulva festoon his camaflouged vulva with chomped alphabetic blemishes, husks of sperm pigments crinkling contracting maps deciphering lambasted circumlocutions joyless brittle boondoggles, map pings, O steeper scarecrow vulva --Bob BrueckL
