Collage - Phaseout Gregarious Aggregate Geomagnetic Squirrel Presidency

Second Person

You are a mad scientist circus performer, ringing a small bell, and staring out of a window near the top of the wizard tower. Every other third Monday, excluding certain numinous terrains, you occasionally teach poetry appreciation to delightful elephants and sassafras tea (but only the tea truly understands the value of metered rhyme).

The crops have withered this year, affecting the moon. You have calculated the lunar orbit to be 3, else it must be from out of state this year; your jellied in-laws have deceived you once again on this date, this day to remember when the lost yarns of old have succeeded in liberating the crusty bathwater, scalded in their mothy tomes.

Duskily cawing, you broom your way up the last few steps of the tower. The incantation is already set: seven and a half candles are lit, plus a few more for show; one for each corner of the tesseract they boat. Or, have been drawn hastily by goats. You enjoy the company of these goats, “Freddy's Bar and Grill and Munitions” (up three percent in the stocks this year alone!). Copyright symbol. Limited liability. If swallowed, do not induce vomiting. Or, maybe you should just go for it.

You feel the incantation went well, though it could perhaps have been slimier. Or more yellow-orange hued; only time will tell. What you do know is this: that such is that what has been magically accomplished is nevermore heretoafterfurthermore a bungalow; not just any bungalow, but one with a decadent scent (all the trolls agree). Such a summoning as this, marvelous in spices, for even the new toaster has three more devices.

For breakfast this evening, a saltwater stew; three hundred marbles, and a blackberry shoe. Serving the stew in your favorite trumpet, you realize upon first taste that the tuning is off. A quick slide of the valve, and Pythagoras weeps, for the natural intonations have been tempered in favor of something slightly saltier. Your pet notebook is cranky, time for a nap.

You tree, you fig, you green the poor kale. You house, you future, you desk the town mayor (you quickly realize this is meant to be read to music in ¾ meter) [[you play your favorite waltz upon your least favorite alien artifact, sparingly but lovingly, or, lovingly but sparingly]] You fork, you spoon, you jaw to the largest caveat. You will can, you will agoraphobic, you will laughter in the spotted decoy (the music should have modulated to the most distant key by now, but it didn't, so you shout in great anger and molasses at your least favorite alien artifact) [[somehow, it is able to comprehend your emotionally-charged orders coupled with verbose molasses, and promptly modulates to the sharp subdominant]]. You have frog, you have painful, you have grease pineapple (your least favorite alien artifact has submitted its two-weeks notice of impending letter of resignation, signed in triplicate with two letters of recommendation from the institute of higher laundry, and other apparel) [[yearly microscope gorillas, levitating]]

Quirking your way back down the steps, you cease ringing the bell, for a storm is coming. You have always wanted to compose in perfect asymmetry. Now is your chance.

Nothing

Nothing

Speckled egg floor
Foot stains
Cigarette butts
Shined carbon-blue poles
Alternating orange yellows
Green grinch hand
Zebra boots

I'm never inclined to ever

*

Snow

Watch lights flicker

*

The apocryphal signs of solitude, doorknobs split
Open as crosshairs between legs, idea of purging
Furious daydreams and constant bewilderment

Shown to the slovenly lakes of time, often cauterized
By subatomic mechanisms of longing, eyes
Peeled back 

*

Enough time certainly, certainly
To write a short poem.
What about time makes me feel
Like butter melting--fat splash
The inconsistencies, 
The necessity. 

* 

Quiet the recursive mind
Wednesday is indigo blue
Now you use it: Empathy
Essential pleasures, the number sense
Meditating selflessly,  a first-rate madness
Dignity god soul mind brain
Pristine inner experience
the art of choosing
myths about suicide
What doesn't kill us
Street lights and shadows
Duels and duets
Losing it
Friction
Scared sick

*

Ambiguity of my life
Quintessential repetition and stalling
Some clean cuts, whispers
I never know what hit me

*

Common sense, nonsense, sensations
An array of senses
Realize: senseless candescence 
Realize: disparate shams
Realize: dissection/affection infected
Was the second third time

Dying

Where we go from here, is up to you. 
Flowers have more feathers than
Birth has more blood than
Hungry has more reason than
All that is was and
Nothing clusters upon downside
Slither

*

Being the noise. Livid, simplest. Bruit about...
What is? Haven't I heard this? Not listening, glisten.
Nowhere else haven't triumphed, trumpeted, trigger 
Mortis, gang bungalow. 

*

My mind bruises easily
Like the wadded bananas
Frozen together
In the defunct refrigerator
That resides in my kitchen

I have an issue with boredom
It doesn't suit me
A cat could be more suited to it
Than I ever could

Here are the apostles
In my mind they are gone
What happened to their feet
And hands
Its easy, like self-hypnosis
They're glued together

Knowing myself
I find it strange when my mirror
Collapses in the folds
And blankets my eyes
Caked with dust

Gunked up in the sink
Some vomit or just tails of dreams
Slyly crawled to the water
Instead of asking
I should just drink

*

Drinking has its way
Of making me want
Everything I don't have
Not so much that I do anything
But enough that I do what I can
What does it take to live
Where living is expensive
There is little break
No caution
Step forward into a world of money
Let it be known
That I cannot feel
For any other place. 

*

Turmoil, I'm a gonner

Here I sit
Vile and putrid
Succumbing to
Usuality 

I ignoble
Gracing my own
Precipice
Dither

*

Delineate these senses
Obstruction is not warranted
My apple holds true
In the land of knots

Moonlight sunbeam crusts & fur
Washing down the hatch
Close to home
Door switch
Light knob

*

Wearing glossy cameras
Gargle umbilicus
Print it out, get it out
Decisions
Eroded
Trash heap and cluster
Horde hitting face nibble

Chunks

Licking hurts anger brilliant
Metamorphosis, considerable
Desiccant incantations
Fringe ghosts and gathered
Crystal specters
Gossamer wraiths

Muck and grime collateral
Shrink

*

forever it's been lost
It should never work that way
Let's look into our pot of tea
And determine where we are