(Untitled)
Thou are not to use such a fork to eat with,
for if it hath touched the great blueness of the sky,
then it hath touched the holy lips of thy Lord,
and the bacteria within thy Lord’s saliva
are so perfect as to destroy thee with their holy might.
“Oh woe is us!” cried the people of the city of elbows.
“Now how are we to defeat the vile squid
that fall from the sky like arrows soaked in wine,
and pepper us with their hideous laughter.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(I couldn’t think of a title i am sorry please forgive me)
MAKE NOISE
Make noises with your mouth in the tunnels.
Can you hear the sound of three nails dying?
It is the clamor of elephants above-ground,
or the music that a dart board plays,
but only when you leave it long enough.
I am staring at my dartboard,
and tending to its wounds,
waiting for it to sing to me.
In its song I will surely find something.
I am hoping for a key.
Or a postcard.
On the postcard I will write to you:
“Did you get the losing lottery tickets I sent you in the winter?
Have they blossomed into the flowers and birds of spring?
Did you throw them into the sun of summertime and wrath?
Did you paint over the love notes scenes of the loveliness of Autumn?
Make noises with your mouth in the tunnels
and you will not slow down the earth
as the seasons pass.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Art by: Brian Despain (who is probably my favourote contemporary artist)
GO DO SOMETHING STUPID ON A TRAIN RIGHT NOW
this orange egg-shaped thing is really fucking wierd like a pine tree
it is wierd and it is like fried eggs sometimes
and we could all wear it like earmuffs
nd it could give us valuable advice about elasticity
and we could stretch out until someone could cut us with scissors
which would mean we were alive
this thing is like a train
because it is one of the top ten things to happen to the humans
are you a human?
have you ever read a poem on a train?
have you ever wrote a poem on a train?
have you ever sung along to your music way too loud on a train?
have you ever danced like an idiot in the dining car of a train?
the grains are trickling through the hourglass of your life.
motherfucking grains of sand are trickling through the hourglass, motherfucker.
you are running out of time.
go do something stupid on a train RIGHT NOW!
go do something stupid on a train
until you are alive
and the people on the train are alive
and you and the people on the train are alive together at the same time
all of us are alive together
and most of us are probably not being idiots on a train or a hot-air balloon.
why?
why are we not even playing the ukulele together
until all the ukuleles turn into birds?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Art by: Jean-Baptiste Coutier
THE END BEGINS WITH MUSIC
The dawn had a music to it.
It was a dirge that could make dogs howl.
The sun had a red to it.
It was a wax seal and it melted over the horizon,
rather than rising,
and the dogs were howling alright,
and the birds kept quiet,
and the hills kept quiet,
and the clocks kept quiet.
There were desert winds inside our mouths,
and the dogs were howling loudly now,
and we wore our tongues like fires inside our mouths,
and the dogs were moaning and howling,
and their howling spurred our eyes to action
to try to put out the fires.
The snakes were coming now,
and the dogs were howling like all of their friends were dead
and the morning was screaming too,
but we couldn’t hear it because we had filled our ears with mud.
We lay in silence and felt the earth tremble.
We waited for something to happen.
The dogs continued to howl from the hilltops.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Art by: Merile
WHAT CLOCKS LOOK LIKE
Help! Help! Help!
I need someone to stab me in the eye with a flaming pocketwatch
and scream at me
“time is running out!”
“time is running out!”
There are hundreds of bears.
Too many bears to even count and they are all beautiful.
I want to name each one
and ride the arrows that point north out of their mouths
And I want to name all of the stars and explode with them
And I want to name all of the crinkled dollar bills
exchanged for sodas which I will also name,
because I drown in them with each sip and my brain goes “zing!”
Instead I am crawling in circles like a lizard;
a vulture has bitten off my tail,
and a snake has eaten my back left leg,
and a coyote has chewed off my back right leg,
and the sun has turned my front right leg into a pile of ash,
now indistinguishable from the sand.
I am making a circle in the sand.
and this is what clocks look like.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Art by: Brendan Monroe
SHARK DANCE
Put sadness on and dance
around in it awhile until
the shoes are broken in and the
shoes are wearing out,
and the soles of the shoes are now
letting the grass tickle your feet.
It should be a fast dance;
wearing sad, it is a bright pink.
Slip it over your arms and feel warmth.
Wear it proudly like an ibis.
Wear it when the leaves are falling.
Wear it like eagle feathers in your hair.
Listen to the fabric of it sing to you;
It sings to you,
“you are living now”
and dance in a hailstorm until
the little rocks turn your skin purple
Take it off, and you will shiver.
Put it on and you will smile.
Live inside it like a dolphin lives in skin.
Live in it until all of the clocks are gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Art by: Victor Selinger
THE CAROUSEL TURNS
1.
I am the empty cat, burning blue
in the dead kitchen sink in the house of you.
Your flies are whispers on me
and your steak melts in the refrigerator
while the mailman knocks on the door.
He misses the bloated upholstery
of your chairs, which are bathed in
only the ghosts of lamplight, by which,
mumbling in extinct languages,
all of our grandmothers read about geometry;
the space inside a cube is not the cube
is their verdict.
2.
I am an orange tree, sleeping alone
in the broken down mule of you.
Looking at you has the taste
of frostbite on an important limb;
of anything freezer-burned
by the hands of nighttime.
Overcompensating for this, my fruit
hangs misshapen and fluorescent.
It taps on the eye, and looking at it
has the taste of paisley.
From my vantage point,
I can see a blade of grass doubled over.
Winter is coming.
3.
I am the ghost of a diver, frolicking
in the eels-nest of you. Somewhere,
between your rusted steel ribs,
a skeleton sits hunched inside a pocket of air;
I go through the wall and find his diary preserved.
On the cover he has etched lions;
they weep over a bloody herd of gazelle.
He has closed it with the word “togetherness”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Also, there will be a lot of new poetry coming at you tomorrow. I haven’t posted any in a bit; I’ve been putting most of my creative energy into a worldbuilding project for a D&D campaign I’m going to run. It’s based on the work of Hans Kanters, a cool surrealist you should go check out.
ltrtr:
Remembrances
O the rivers and lakes,
the raining dogs
dirty and smiling;
a dark note in a
fluorescent forest.
(and when I was five
my parents, they bought me a sledge
but we lived in the desert)
and the movement
of the placid moths
in my father’s old house
filled my dense eyes.
It’s a crime that I haven’t reblogged anything by such an amazing writer until now.
top five: writing utensils? statues? celebrities that are not blonde? books with purple covers? brands of shoe?
Writing Utensils:
1. Erasable pen
2. Yellow highlighter
3. Yellow Dixon Ticonderoga #2 pencil
4. Chalk
5. Fork
Statues:
1. Moai
2. The Sphinx
3. Little Mermaid
4. Mother Russia
5. People who pretend to be statues for money.
Celebrities that are not Blonde:
1. Terry Pratchett
2. Michael Palin
3. John Cleese
4. Hugh Laurie
5. Stephen Fry
Books with Purple Covers:
ok you win i cannot find any good books in my house that are even remotely purple.
Brands of Shoe:
1. Skechers (because I have some cool ones with zippers)
2. I don’t wear any other shoes actually….um those freaky toe shoes.
3. Nike
4. Vans
5. Adidas
Top 5 Apocalypse Scenarios.
(in no particular order)
1. Our toenails are a precious commodity to an alien race, which possesses the technology to traverse the universe, but not the idea of herding animals for their resources. They invade and kill us.
2. The jellyfish realize they don’t want us around anymore and attack us. We are helpless against their mighty wizard powers.
3. The president of the world bans deliciousness. Eating becomes so boring that people stop doing it.
4. Like the robot apocalypse, but with plants.
5. The only thing keeping earth from plummeting into the sun is our collective belief in the way physics work .One day someone realizes that this belief is wrong, and that we should have actually plummeted in quite some time ago. The universe amends its mistake.
ask me my “TOP 5” anything pls
thetargetbird:
Ooh this is actually a fun call for attention. I mean ask prompt.
I just wanted to drop off a link to Iron Poet XVIII. It’s a little poetry contest on Giant in the Playground and yours truly is one of then judges. Please check it out. Thanks
MOLASSES
We made illnesses of horses
and now these are the puddles we swim in
where the mushrooms peek up and say
“Oh no! It is God again!
he is here to make us tremble!”
And like the finches are trapped
in the melted vanilla ice cream
around our pupils,
we are stuck,
swallowing ingots of copper
and twisting into the shape
of the anchor tattoos on our left arm
while the tattoos on our right arm whisper
“mother”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Art by Lootone
ECHOLALIA
“I am a sad, violet shadow.”
Listen to your words
and them listen to the whispers;
as you turn away, the words return
like bats in a cave of mirrors.
And the Narcissus flowers are blooming
in the eyelids, that is to say,
the mind’s window-box,
and the yellow haziness is there
sucking at your experience
of walking by a lake at evening.
The pond is duckless,
and somehow, suddenly,
everyone forms a mirror of you,
and you are attractive, you think,
but you still wonder about that old superstition
and you wonder,
what if I broke the mirror?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Art by Jody Rogers
