A Poem by R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)

“When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson I love; poetry is born (from/out of) that fruit. - R.J Calzonetti






In the beginning, there was Chaos

Strands strung out along an endless horizon; tapestries of gold and onyx; swans of choreography

In the primordial soup of a lucid dream; in fuchsia’s cream; bulbous, bulimic; terpsichorean

Shackles asters and aspers of castaways hazel as day

Fading away into the stale ukuleles of sable polymerization; basins washing in phosphorus

Gouache blossoming colossal apostles gouache from the thick fog of transmogrified twine

Writhing in the binding civilization in the aether of maple trees

Escaping into the latent breeze along the polymers of a calming sea

Diabolically chronological; the hallowed edge of Apollo’s thread

Dangling labyrinths of vines unwinding in serpentine chimera; ferrying itself along a cherry sun

My dreams wash up on a beach laden with stars

Maleficent etched in my reflection

Marred by the grimoires of starlight flight ichor

A riptide of violets like throbbing astrological cobwebs of sunsetting denim

Indigo hymnals of reddening ebony; cylindrical windows of severing remedies

A Serengeti of heaven’s edifice in the whispers of a cistern of burgundy churning weeds

Echoes festering maleficent in the western winds

Nephilim’s effigy within the seed of abreivation

Caked in mud

Cradling sun;

I stumble over myself in inebriated hatred

For the gaping wastelands of my neatly filed mind

Like a zigzagging labyrinth paddling through stratospheric mirrors of ethereal veneer

Peering beneath the skin of a symphony slithering through the roots of bamboo shoots

(My well-combed spiral unwinding in the lilac taffeta like unwrapped tapestries, they blossom)

(Tossing phosphorous sarcophagus lost in the offerings of impossible things; diamond rings)

Subdividing in my iris;

Blinding by the spiral of (vinyl/wyverns)

Dying in pyres; geysers of wire plucking at the strings of stygian spriggans

(Gaia’s a Nihilist, perspiring islands of cyan)

(Blistered wrists in the rippling precipitation of her spit;)

(Crescent sceptres of ecstasy meshing effigies in the zephyr’s creek)

(Crucified by it)

[(Among the citadels of angelic velvet; bellowing archipelagos in the smoking supernovas)]

[(Embroidered magnolias of mandalas’ constellations balaclavas in the august wind)]

[(Translucent spruces like nooses of fuchsia; booming ludicrous(ly) illuminating cumulus)]

Each one grain of sand falling from my fingers

The endless clusters ushering

(Flustered rustling in the percussion of rushing water fathering Him)

(The linen rhythm of prisms’ religion)

(Imitating the tongue of our great sun)

(Wrinkled with inkblots outcropping in the doppelganger’s canopies; bangled lampposts)

(White ichor biting in-to the lightning swim)

(Offended Septembers incomprehensible)

Each one perfect; like a fractal Rorschach

(Unearthed from the bottom of my lungs)

(To take my breath away and never give it back)

The shore glistening with each chip of diamond (carving harmonies from a yarn’s constellations)

Every forgotten word (running your fingers through my hair; quiet melody; distant stream)

Each sullied rock (a flock of geese flying through the creased ripple of a yellowed page)

Gazing in the brazen hazel face of oasis

Paved in the glass of a hundred broken windowpanes;

Kaleidoscopes, xylophones [gurgling with metallurgical clergymen]

Stained in the ink of decay

Bathed in ukuleles derailed from the sailboats of osmosis groping at the ambrosial oceans

And cathedrals more dilapidated than the forgotten imprint of a town on the edge of my mind

The tip of my tongue

Sharper than ballpoint pens

My voice a lance to raise at my enemies in despair;

A deserter’s flag; a caramel carousel

Or maybe a child’s raised hand in a schoolroom, a banner of jagged colour forgotten; blotchy

Asking for his mother; crying for dim familiarities that he cannot find in the asylum of his mind

His lips; unopened (omni)present;

Noise stuck between his teeth;

Locked behind his words

From the low volume of his radio tainted ears

Or from the abyss that echoes frames unhinged and pieced together again

As if ramshackle; inside of his mouth

The sound of passing burnt-out matches in the flowers of hours

Crawling through the damp mud of forgotten eons

Black flame; crackling Rorschach;

Of the alabaster porcelain plains

That line the inside of his head; sentences bent into sheet metal stripped of depth; of vibrance

On an elongated page

Yawning its opened maw before swallowing itself inside out;

Now neo, now opposite; but still the same boy he watches, waits for salvation to fall from the sky

A marmalade marble obelisk hollowing itself out of the sole fullness of a single note;

Excavated; cavernous; filled by but the sounds of Nothing ripped from the lips of children

Before the arrival of Something, extending a hand down into the decrepit decadence

Waiting, like shadows on the walls; glyphs of anticipation within the grapes of a maple tree;

Unable to see the light as anything but blind;

Something to greave for; or to fear,

Intrepid sword we do not know;

Sheathed, for now; before the hallowed gallows of civilization shape themselves; warped, bent

Peeling back flesh like

Wallpaper and fresco, mural and graffiti, from the bibles of the buildings

Zipping his up velcroed alcoves of soft-hearted emotion

The skin from its back lapping up the construction of bronze constellations

That ring [in] the ears like a bell with the sounds of sporadic static;

White noise, alabaster masks we wear

To the masquerade of the black night against the bitter lanterns

Stepping out of our own shadows and back into the blackness of the light,

The biting cold of a flame untamed; untapped, unknowable as nothing; [as anything]

But we are; the blank canvas is complete in its waiting, refurbished, waiting to be embroidered

In its yet to be, startling, fleeting beauty; I must find the pieces of the puzzle

Imagine ecstasy and behold it in my fist

This masterpiece; or lose my mind picking [it] apart [in] altogetherness,

And fit myself back behind the sun;

Living in the shadow of the mountains; people bigger than I could ever be

Hiding from truth; enlightened by shadow; revealing the truth behind the meaninglessness of it

The past unravels before morning

Not to make itself between a picture frame

[Overstimulating, unsatiating, unwelcoming, arriving without want, or without tact]

[But it is here, now, in every moment, in every sentence, in every sense]

I can almost see your face

You liar, you loser

Cracked and smiling with the empty decay of your worn features; stretching across the sun

And it is nothing

But [agony]

[If not] blinding

[And/If not] everything

[Within nothing]

[I still]

[Look away]

<[(For I cannot see you for what you once were)]>

<[(Lost memento)]>

<[(Reminding me of nothing)]>

<[(In place of everything)]>

<[(I close my eyes)]>

<[(Wrestling with emotion; memory)]>

<[(Armageddon’s cemetaries)]>

<[(That I cannot visit)]>

In their black sacrament; mourning for the amorphous corpses of a mind’s orphanage of thought

Or of love

Come and find me here

Nothing will not have its way with my words; I will find something more

These dead, featherless bluebirds

Once belonged in the heavens of your skies; what did you do with them, you loser, you freak?

 The venomous remedies of leaden memories

Rending Armageddon’s chemistry

Like a bent metal edifice shooting geese with fleeting portraits warping cornucopia

Of contorted amorphous orchestras

An orchard of metamorphosis in each dose of orchids

Yes, hide among the flowers like a weed, yes

Like mimicking chasms bedazzling

Shapeshifting orifices of liquored lithium; pixelated mosaic

You are not beautiful; at all

Crypts of bulbous and bulging molecules like dominos of starving polymers’ halogens

Of whispering symmetry

Of fallen leaves; empyrean trees

Embroidered in mourning light

Abbreviated inebriated in the maelstrom shaded halos

In the shapeless crepes of a crescents’ makings

Of aether lace of polymerization and the lacquered grace of oasis

Festooned with blooming ludicrous illusions

Ruminating in the naked wastelands

Falling through hands each grain of sand

Expanding lathered in the cadavers of asteroids like polaroid pictures

Lit with the flame of the untamed manger

Within the chamber of hurricane’s sabre

Savouring augers of lackadaisical trails

Where the milky highway rides its horse into the endless waterfall of white

Glowing with the symposium

Of rosemary fairy tales in the wale of a gale curtailing

In the veil of a maelstrom

A village of capillaries in a sigil’s tree

Like a ghetto’s archipelago comatose in the snow

Composing vagrant magnum opus

With loathsome posies interwoven

Carving of yarn-like harlequin

(I will not wait for what has already past to come around again)

(Nothing; but in [dismay glee] the [prodigal] son returns in mourning)

Still, I drunkenly following in his footsteps; disappearing like fingers on a piano; voiceless

Blind to the angry smouldering sun

I reach the end of the trail you never walked

Just another forked road

Under the spaghettified horizon

Rising like a tidal wave

Where the path winds its way around the neck of the woods

Softly stirring the moon from its resting place among the jagged stars

Where the tide of green rushes in, and out

In and out

Like a floral noose

Like you

Scarfs of half-hearted archways

Billowing vermillion in the scintillating winds

Am I getting any closer?

Far from home

Aimless phrases leading into a final destination?

Carved into the stars;

Andromeda like bulging bulbous eyes

Or sunrise

Winding its hands around amalgam; the face of a clock hidden by the smoky scarves of arteries

Let the orb of corridors bud into sunset; flooding the windowless hallways in light midflight

Pythons of gondala’d andromeda braiding tornadoes into the marrow of arrowheads red

As I weave my knights into being

Seedlings of the ceiling

You are not but a deadman; an unborn child never cries

Carved in the bells of ciel dwelling in the melodies of diseases seams of silken dream

Scarfing down the archways of heaven

Belching the nightmares of angels; you

Like an escarpment of carpeted parchment raising its head in the Everest dread

Unfolding euphoria; from the boreal voyage contorting meteorically

From the borrowed time of a rhyme; from the thistle of lithium

The coils of primordials in the folilage of soil and oiled exfoliating magnolias

In the drought of a thousand suns

Burning out like lightbulbs in an ancient basement

Laced in the vases of polymerization

There, gathering Saturn’s rings for the stygian eclipse

The prison of rhythm

Singed by equilibrium

You are the song I never learned to sing

I’d force out the words

But there would be nothing to hear

Either way

But the sound

Of silence


I suppose it’s better this way

You never needed me [to]



Any way up is a way up �" hiking



Decay, delay, derelict depression;

Fear, madness, anger like crows picking at the bones of a symphony

Flittering in the plumage of cumulus

But joy, (hope, and) love is to follow;

Lines on a page falling into place like piano notes;

Under splintered fingers

After death’s stanza,

Like a bluebird in my chest; (heart in midflight, thudding against the studded sky)

That wants to get out;

The symphony is still, timeless, and (intact, meticulous clockwork);

Before the rain;

Feathers rustling, fallen leaves;

Nothing is wrong in writing;

We came to hear the music;

Whispering, hieroglyphics in the wickers of liquor like ichor;

Chanting, (and) chanting; nothing

(Can you hear it?)

(The sound of nothing forgotten by winding time that whistles its tune?)

(I can)

(The same song playing on repeat)

(And it is nothing at all)

(If not)

(Completely damning)

(Ticking, ticking, ticking, tock)


[On the glock]

[Like cornstalks]

[In Cocytus]

[Blossoming colossus]

[Etched in lecherous precipice]

[I can hear you]

[Never has silence been so loud]


- For Charles


In My Footsteps


This is my burden;

Lackadaisically wading in daisies

Lazily gazing into the eyes of sunrise

Like daffodils of lapis lazuli

Traveling gallantly scouring battalions of green

Serpentine in the jades of dilapidated halos

Jailing sailboats floating in the moats

Overflowing with lotuses

Coated in the rhinestones of posies like a crocheted ocean;

This bird between my ribcage;

Yearning to fly again;

Behind bars of gnarled branches;

Fingers of stygian to keep those wings from rhythm;

His notes within my prison;

Stencilled tendrils on the page;

Never to see the light of day;

Another colour smothered lover’s;

Grey abstract saxophones on an empty throne of roses;

With the thorns of a unicorn

Coral reefs of ivory lilacs and gold leaf wreaths

From the wreckage of our precipice;

Battalions still as a robin in his trees;

Solitary islands we; solitary silence bleeds;

In the glades of braided tornadoes

Sketching the maleficent heavens in their leatherbacks and denim

In the mesh of a celestial bethel

Among the carvings of starlings;

Harbours of harmonies under the willows of stillness

In the quilts of prisillas billowing like flags of smoke

Crushed like soda cans into the clouds

That are unraveling like javelins

Above the fluttering covenant of hummingbirds;

Weaving the light of celestial bodies into being;

Beneath asters of glass peeling speleothem

Of the murals ceils; stealing away the light of day;

Walking glazed in the phosphorus maze;

In a dirty haze of an embroidered accordion

Across corridors of the endless crescendo

Of iridescent embryos bent in contempt for emptiness;

Monuments of contemporaries

That barricade the frayed edge of the page

In its yellow umbrella of bellowing parhelion

Elegies in the cello of the serpentine;

Birthing its own umbilical silhouettes

From the decadent deathlessnsss of a wretched bethel

Dressed orchestral and etched in the caress of devils;

Embroidered chlorophyll in foraging for morning;

Birthed from the church of the earth;

Like champagne from a casket,

Laced with track marks ripping through the mud(dy sunset)

Like fingertips across keyboards,

Tracing the fingerings of a flute;

Or the strung up strings of man;

Ukuleles told to hang on;

Told that eventually, we won’t have fall;

Plucked from skies of a harp,

Darting in and out from between the clouds;

Stuck in the mucky lustre of a clandestine beach;

Drenched in ourselves, our dreams, our spit,

As if it were ink; as if we could spell ourselves into being;

Hang each letter like a memento; walking sarcophagi

Offspring of the colossus malting in the waxing/wanning of avian aegis; bulbous polymerization

Collars of mandalas patterning avenues

Scavenging avarice from the pits of esophagus blossoming knots of phosphorus gelatinous

Backwards asters that pastors of blasphemy capture like a common bird of unfurling sterling

Silver bougainvillea in the vermillion eyes of lilac; hydras on the bible of horizons

Blacker than the shapeshifting viscera’s eclipse; the mirage of candelabra

A flag for no man’s land; tapestries rasping the passage of time winding itself back into shape

As if we can say all our directionless journeys out loud;

And it wouldn’t be just a shadow in the dark; to fumble for what was

Missing every note and still pretending to be musical;

White noise on blank pages doesn’t tend to stick;

The resin of our outstretched lives like hands that have never touched god,

Or a woman, or man; with or without love,

Pretending, pretending, knowing, not; assuming, never fully understanding

What it means to be embraced

Death in the glance of a camera;

Pictures thrown into campfires;

I burn brighter, I burn brighter, I burn

(Out gloriously, pestilentially,) a restless guest in a penitentiary;

Revelling in the cemetery of my life.

So, so many headstones in heaven.

In the hallucinogenic emissaries of time;

bound in a spine of leatherback rhymes;

Each branded letter (a peacock feather);

Put back together; torn and severed, from its setting;

Armageddon, flower petals;

Disheveled devils among the thunder (umbrage) and the pebbles;

Blind to the past, do you see me now?

Trapped in the raptured rapids;

The tapestries of a photograph?

I am coming apart at the seams

Mangled in the botanical garden of taffeta, mosiac, bound by time;

Hanging dangling bangles from the vine?

And what of the beings between the lines?

(What of the blurs we’ve left behind?)

(Intertwining in the spiral of a xylophone; groping dystopian crows)

{Lavish pianos of a cashmere veneer; stratospherical murals in the speleothem of denim}

{Bevelling into a mellowing symphony; wrinkled crease of newspaper vapour}

{Nature’s liberation stapled in the aether of maple trees; caper of dilapidation’s wafers}

(Cardiovascular chastity; causticity’s chassis in the chaff of aphrodisiac alabaster blackberries)

(Wrapping tapestries around the clouds)

<[(Vowels like an alleyway)]>

(My fist against your white face; exploding into colour, I made art of you, didn’t I?)

(Brushing hues against the walls of these polyphonic hallways)

(Where the [rusted/closed] gate leads to a garden of words I bury)

(Sprouting splintered up from the stillness into vibrance; instance,)

(A fleeting phoenix withering and whittling)

(Pressing itself into the ashes of your buried face)

[(Expressionless intermeshing effigy in the wreckage of a bethel’s ecstasy)]

[(Wrinkling idiosyncrasy in the infinite syncopation of every polyester second;)]

[(Coming apart from the seams every [crescendo bending into] screams)]

[(Between the weavings of cream; terpsichorean serpentine ravens of intimate articulations)]

[(Waves that lace the hazy glaciers in their wicker basins)]

[(Trickling down from the lithium clouds like unpollinated stamens in palms of choreography)]

<[(Gripping the lips like a kiss [of viscera] bristling the ripples of crystalline mithril)]>

<[(Whispering chrysalis as the lullabies kaleidoscope; opals in a pitch sky)]>

<[(Empty cliffs on the ridges of equilibrium)]>

<[(Castaways of reason; drifting out from the honey-less desire; bonfires;)]

<[(Kerosene among the legions of the trees entangled in the bangles of mangled reeds)]

<[(Kneading the dough of euphoria; accordions exploring the orgy of metamorphosis)]

<[(Twisting hieroglyphics of omniscient eclipse)]>

<[(Leading into [the/lactescent] depths)]>

<[(Hell is yours for the taking)]>

<[(I never loved you)]>


<[(So go back home; and do as you are compelled to do; knowing nothing but the light)]>

{Reaping life beneath the ichor’s scythe}

<[(The Tunnel)]>

<[(That pulled you into the darkness)]>


<[({We/they} never loved you, anyways)]>


Nebulous Heavens


Sable tornado nightingales

In the depths of a precipice

Twirling in sterling like neon andromedas

Twisted in thistle phoenixes of dripping lithium

Like a phosphorus sarcophagus

Grinning obsidian in bonds of onyx Tartarus

Cobbling knotted in obelisks

In the abyss of eucalyptus

Gripping the chrysalis with riffs of crucifixion

Whispering with the bliss of ellipses

Shaping the cliff face in a constellation’s polymerization

Swallowing creations like grapes

Aether in the sap of chaff and rapids’ dilapidation

Lacerating lace of vorpal amorphous corridors

That burrow into the crimson rings of stygian brigadiers

Ragged flags of Abaddon

Hearing nothing and peering into immaterial

As the mural of ephemeral cranks the gears

In a veneer of insincerity

Clearing the mind from a dime flip

Rippling in the watery comets camouflaging the assemblage

In the rollicking polymers of posies;

The roses of pandemonium

Chthonian pulling and twisting into the vessels of an effigy

Daffodils of decadent fruit

Hanging like a star-spangled banner

In cavernous labyrinths of amethyst

In the pigmented figs of amygdala’s

Like strawberry stamens in the autumn wind

Incendiary ferris wheels that carousel bellflowers

Disemboweling the levitating leviathans of heaven’s leathery edifice;

And the tenants of the hemisphere

Reared in the heads of ungrateful dead; the mud of their studded jugular

Revelling in the tempest’s cistern

Spurred from the valves of autumn’s carnival;

Dwelling in the wells of parhelion

Over the rose beds of nebulas

Like bulbous buds of penumbras

Studded with a grove of clovers

Over a coast of opals

Dwarfing the forced discourse of metamorphosis

Floral as the coral morrow of agoraphobia

Probing the comatose ambrosia of hopeless loathsome oceans

With its tenebrous veins of champagne

Glazed over eyes blinded by the irises of the currents

Serpentine, that cascade

In the waves of azaleas

Bathing in the cratered skin of seraphim

I scream in binary (to the nebulous heavens)


And again and again

(They answer me in kind)






Caramel carousel,

Parasols parallel

Like cairns of alstroemerias

Flaring in the illuminating

Plumage of blooming cumulus

Rivers of sap like rapid molasses

Among glass sprigs that rivet through the ribbons blue

Sprouting entombed in the juniper moon

Like the dim rhythm of photosynthesis

Infinite as the spiralling skyline

Writhing in the highlands of amber

Pomegranate and amethyst, sanguine tambourines

Under brazier of iron flame called sun;

Braiding in the (night)shade of Himalayans;

A maze of cornstalks Cocytus

Blossoming in the brothels of phosphorus(cent) light;

In the shedding of Everest’s brethren

Its shadowed labyrinth printing itself on the paper of oasis

With its nectar of wrestling polyester

In the hymns of an infinite wind spindling the clouds

That bow like nightgowns;

Towels malleable with splintered spines like lilacs;

Daffodils of Rorschach’s passing along the lines

Embroidered on the face of the earth;

Taffeta wrapping itself around like a blouse of bellflowers

Malleable as the settling sun with its scarfs of scarecrows

And roses among the bloated posies

Of bulbous polymerization carving itself

Etched in the yell of parhelion

Echoing along the ridge of calligraphy;

Glyphs that ripple dipping their fingertips in the eyes of gods

In columns of volumes staccato revolving

In the stamens of an embouchure churning itself

Into the mouth of a cavern of lavenders;

Chasms jasmine where saxophone chapels of shrapnel gather

Unravelling in the attic sporadic

In the jasper of brass tapestries grafted from a Damascus basket’s intricate pattern

Like the opposite of a full moon

Along the rivulet’s reeds serpentine

In the crashing alabaster castaways

In the parade along glades of azaleas

Like hazel crocheted ocean waves creasing unceasing;

Fleece of reefs the gold leaf of ether;

Caving shaving and chiselling at the rock face

Laced in the aether of a nightingale maelstrom

In veneers of cashmere empyrean

As the leering dead sulphuric red

Spread their wings like seraphim

Incendiary like quarries of the many storied orchards

Of metamorphosis orchestras of scorpions

Amorphous as the porcelain orchids;

Sky in unbridled lines drying violets on the highwire sunrise

Umbrage of hummingbirds

Honeycombing pandemonium

With the resin of clementines

On the thrones of crows and telephone poles

Golden Babylonian

Sticking together

In the rickety (hieroglythics tethering) heavens

Staircase of carapace lacing the masoned tapestries

The vases cracked in shapeless gapeing oasis

Raking the minds of a (final rhinestone) kaliedascope binding into vinyl islands in the winding

Spirals redefining the iris (like signs) of (the) horizon

Grinding in geysers of pyres that moonlight reprises

Down to the fibres of lilacs

Crying (in the) ivory

A raft in the blackness (cast from tapestry of a Rorschach)




(Trails of the lilac eyes of grinding gears beneath the fear of murals)

(The vine)

(That lines the beds of flower’s red etched in lead)

(Threading the edges of the nebulas)

(With their leathered confetti)

(Shredding the letters of light into four-winged figures malignant in shimmering stygian)

(Fingers obisidian ribboning)

<[(Pink idiosyncrasies that weed themselves in bells of alcoves)]>

(The flame of the night)

(Burning in eternity’s bright)

(The black)

[(In white)]

[(Shadowed light)]

[(Wrestling with Nephilim in the vessels of ecstacy like star speckled nectarines)]

[(I am the bethel’s effigy)]

[(The black screen behind the ending scene)]

[(Basking clean in memories)]

[(I am the last drop in an endless sea)]

[(I am the fast clock in a century)]

[(I bend like reeds)]


[(December weaved me from her steeple)]

[(Reaping the phoenix of a lethal people)]

[(I spit their names like fireflies)]

[(They double-crossed my heart and hope to die)]

[(I see you blind men with my eyes)]

[(I see you blind men with no lives)]

[(I see you blind and born to die)]

[(I see the sunlight, my arms stretch wide)]

[(But everything I’ve left behind)]

[(Everything that lives must die)]

[(I redefine life vilified)]

[(The past must rest, and there, it lies)]

[(This new world you made, which I despise)]

[(Lest I find it less divine)]

<[(Winding itself around your eardrums like undulating staccato)]>

[(The worlds crumbles, falls and then I rise; golden eyed, smoldered hide)]

<[(Driving with my lime and a Heineken fingers sliding in bibles of gin liable to sin)]>

[(I see the sunrise)]

<[(In squiggly bougainvillea cast out like past astronauts)]>

[(In black and white)]

<[(In red and blue)]>

<[(In dead and youth)]>

<[(In ten thousands flowers as malleable as the feathers of metallurgy)]>

[(Combined lines like eyelashes crafted in smite the laughter of jasper brass and masses)]

<[(Crashing alabaster waves that shave away grey molasses at the form of the shore)]>

[(Apple bites of shrapnel’d life)]

[(Mourn their lies)]

<[(Masquerading the blades of fantasia)]>

<[(In the maze of hallways I stroll)]>

<[(My strangled hands a viscus carousal of marigolds unfolding in magnolias)]>

[(I lift the moon)]

[(I split the sun)]

[(I touch the sky)]

[(I flee, I run)]

[(I left them all to crawl down one by one, in summer slums, running drunk)]

[(Under my tongue)]

[(The heave of lungs reverberating with clay sapience)]

[(The heart you strum)]

[(Hollow in my chest like a guitar, crying out musically, emotionally frayed like an old poem)]

<[(The people that I’ve yet to shun)]>

<[(The trumpeters of rumpled deer)]>

[(I am the mirror, or the veneer?)]

[(If you look at me)]

[(Do you see anything?)]

[(Am I not anything, at all?)]

But the culmination of effortlessness; the sound of stillness; the anger of the avenged?

[(Don’t answer that)]

[(Are you listening?)]

<[(Listen to)]>

<[(Hallucinogenic Neverlands tethered and forever young)]>

<[(Jade ukuleles spun by the summit of the plummeting umbras)]>

<[(With their velvet valves of yellow ghettos of sheet metal elegies)]>

<[(Breathing in the bohemians)]>

<[(I am a fallen phoenix man)]>

<[(in amethyst of gangrene a speleothem unending in cemeteries of this bodies penitentiary)]>

<[(The last bend of the helix strand)]>

<[(My heart is my own remixed brand)]>

<[(Blow my brains out with a Kleenex)]>


<[(Find me hanging at odd angles star spangled like a bangled angel from the ceiling fan)]>

[(My ears shape the form of indistinct obscurity)]

[(The words you’ve yet to say live inside my head, completely rent free)]

<[(Bullets unwinding into flowers blown away)]>

You give me (nothing but nightmares) that is an act of love

[(I don’t need to know your answers)]

[(Your love, above)]


[(s not mine anymore)]


[(Is not mine anymore)]

[(Don’t question me)]

[(The answer is not mine anymore; I cannot give it to you)]

[(I do not have my own)]

[(And my love)]

[(Though not yet boundless, as theirs, the binary in their starry eyes, pyres of iris, looking out)]

[(Feeling, savouring)]

[(It is not enough)]

[(I have nothing)]

[(At all)]

[(For you)]


[(Or even for)]


<[(I was once conductor)]>

<[(A maestro of sorts)]>

<[(Before I danced to the rhythm of someone else’s tune)]>

[(I know no better)]

[(Do not hate me)]

[I cannot help but play with every note I’ve left behind between the barred silence harmonizing]

[(For this is my conclusion)]

[(There is no answer anymore)]

[(There is no pattern but the steps untaken)]

[(We are alone with everybody)]

[(Sitting by the crossroads in a certain way)]

[(The sun droops his head in early evening)]

[(The world could learn from those who burn (themselves/alive) on their own tongue)]

[(Until the raw form of the word is felt with ferocity; spat with envy, cast out in hate)]

[(With depth)]

<[(Please learn from me)]>

<[(I have nothing)]>

<[(But I can teach you of the most wonderful emptiness; lonely victory, cold sun)]>

<[(Alone at the highest point)]>

<[(But you will never know (of) my greatest failures)]>

[(I am dipping below the horizon)]

[(Capsized and drowning in my own thoughts)]

[(And still complacently)]

[(I have never burned brighter)]

<[(My hands)]>

<[(Direct constellations)]>

(Yet are empty and weak, but)

<[This is my own symphony)]>

<[(Every last shadow)]>

<[(And every last bit of light)]>

Don’t take it from me (my hallow sky; falling upon each other in love and anger)

I’ll have nothing left

But my angst;

[Windswept zephyrs of crepuscular Neptune; a room full of junipers]

[Candelabra of the cosmos; camouflaging gauze assemblage of bottomless obelisks]

[Scavenging magazines of obsidian from the incendiary winds’ of rhythmless linden trees]

[Hideous River Styx; ricocheting in the cryptic bliss, insidious hieroglyphics]

<[Along the mandala; polyphonic columns transmogrified; vibrant gliding eye’s horizon]>

<[Poseidon behind the misguided spiralling iris of Gaia; unbridled fireworks]>

A malaise of disquieting dread ringing in my ears like a cymbal

I wear my face on these blind hands; out of touch

Stretched out and fumbling blindly for the world standing in front of me as if in darkness

Out of touch with the world

A shadow cast out by the light of day

Passing directionless; unable to climb the stairs to heaven

I wait

In the crawlspace




Somewhere in between

You’ll find me stranded in each strand of web I weave

Like a fallen leaf

Upon the bloodred snow; the cold waterways of purpose; flowing underneath the ice



The Sun’s Shadow



Camouflaging mahogany

The black stain of the sun a Rorschach in my sky,

Bitter and bright, so young, on top the world;

Bending cast in the resin of each creviced precipice

(Of phosphorescent crescents)

(Bethels incandescent decibels)

(Directionless etched in stretching flecks of nectar’s Nephilim)

(Crepuscular blooming in the fluid runes sloe of Neptunium),

Asters of taffeta tapestries;

Each passing hour, each passing week;

Braided sails, halos, railroads weaved into the hurricanes of daisies;

The malaise and malleable maleficent malice;

The soiled soul; stepped on by God

In his bangled sandals of clamorous amber tambourines

The kneading dough of crows over the lotus of the oceans;

Gasping for breath in the zephyr of death;

Lavenders clammer over each other in the muddy umbras

Embroidered coloured with the rickety eclipse of celestial bodies

Slumped in the corner of my mind;

Without the crowd of wildflowers

Devouring each other with smothered covers of the lance of canvas

Star spangled dandelions pry off their petals in the devil’s metallurgy;

In the depths of precipice;

In the leaping wreaths of ether reaping themselves of elegance

In the shell of interstellar parhelion

Dwelling within the skin of scintillation;

The basins of many faces;

The masquerading glazed oasis;

Ghettos of arpeggios

And I ask where did the music go?

Where did the music go?

Where did the music go before you plugged your ears with clay?

Until you shaped amorphous sound into trumpet-mouthed silence;

Strings of stillness hanging their sorrow;

Drilled into the back of your head to dangle like a memory;

Mere white noise in a black room on a grey canvas;

Painted black and bathed in white;

Shade under the sycamores; bristles of nickel and lithium;

Strands of chalky sable eyed visionaries; intrinsic figures in mimicry’s symmetry like linden trees

Who cannot look past the unfinished memory; as it leaves them; as it leaves me;

Undeniably, forgettably and all encompassingly so;

Vines in a mind of onyx ivory climbing the sides in symmetry spindling spiralling eyes

Let me pluck them from their rigid strings

There is no saving them

They are ignorant, clueless plumerias

We break the silence and strip it of its mechanisms; the stem of its leaves in the fleeting shadows

Not so different now, are we?

Held down by our unity, belief

But I cannot hate them for what nature made them to be

Much less hate you

For what you could never be

I pick the flower from its roots

But not in anger

It is beautiful

The sacred fire of its endless petals

But it withers all the same

Dirt screaming from empty mouths


These flowers scream too

Do you hear them?

Breaking something beautiful makes me feel ugly

Their beauty is finite

But these words (will) live forever






Lactescent repetition

Blackness apparition

Graphite lightless knife of ripening lichen deciphering the bright light’s ichor

Kilometres of mitochondria with a fondness for the pollen of stamen neon andromeda

Arming Tartarus

An arboretum of dodecahedranes

Speckled with the hectors of lesions cremating in the pockmarked bark like an artifact

Laughing saxophones and lapis cast in shadow

The sigil of bougainvillea

Acrylic lilies within the villas of a priscilla

Trilling in a billion willow wisps

Atop the psychotropic abyss

The shrapnel of a daffodil

Filling every building in wilted ilk spilling stillness

Waiting in the syncopation of deteriorating glaciers in the shapelessness; aether polymerization

Wading in the grey maze laid in the serenade of every blade of grass

Raised like a glass to the half-mast rapture lapsing in the saplings of dilapidated hatred

Waking against the shore of my bottom floor

Moored from every corridor

Subsiding silent islands unarriving

Wired hyacinth

Stranded branches of amethyst whisked into omniscience in the footprints of splinters

Whittling citadels in the yellow parhelion

Melding the kettle in the well of inelegance

Littered with the magazines of rivers driven through shivs like in a dream

Bursting [from the (seams/floor) of an apple core] serpentine earth regurgitating streams

Sown up eyes of iris never see

Plugged ears of corn for crows to eat

October in the morning heat

As the soma of the oceans reap

The golden barley gone to sleep

Their molding bodies

In the heat

Under the skies of clouds like sheets; rumpled by the crumpled leaf

Something that will never keep

Drifting crystalline through the ichor of ellipsis

To listen

Not speak

To the whisper of the trees

As we blister


I say there is no (better/correct) way to burn

Everyone wants to be brilliant

No one wants to be dust;

I beg to differ; etched in the river’s reflection is the eclipsed abyss

Will you walk on water; or will you [remember what it means to] drown [with me]?

I know no better way (than/to burn) [bridges]



The Tide



The tide of battle unravelling

In the saddle of fragile medallions

Glistening like flipping nickels in a crypt of lithium

Whispering itself from the gulf of a hollow heart

Tearing apart from the cartilage of arteries

Martyrs of arches marching along the columns of stone

Carving into startling starlings of yarn

Of barley harbours of harlequin rivers

Of the forbidden thistle and mistletoe

Goading itself from a closing mouth

Melting in the swell of velvet bells of a blouse of parhelion

In the felts of belted balconies

That stream like seams of silk

Quilted in the whittling vermilion of umbilical umbrellas

In the bellow of nebula penumbra of tenebrous coasts

Of oceans poltergeist writing themselves in solemn vows of solstice

Crocheted combing the crows in photographs of shrapnel

Pictured within the shell of a melody

Wrapped satin maps of gelatinous aspers in saxophone masquerades

Alabaster graphic tapestries cast in Rorschach’s

That blight the graphite night with its iridescent tenebrous coat

Roping interloping cornucopia;

The dead seed of a legion of paraplegic eagles

Unable to reach back up the trees in their unapologetic Armageddon;

The setting sun coming down upon them

Spread in metallurgy purging itself for the apple core of morning;

In its sterling urns and its vases of laden craters

Cracks of light slipping through in the asphalt vaults of ashen hearts

That dart around the cowl of borealis

In fear of the murals painted over their eyes as they lie in violets in the thunder of hummingbirds

Murmuring churning in their vertigo;

Boulevards bouquets of vertebrae

Gale in the halo’s maelstrom combing itself from the jagged tongues of mountains slabs

Of balaclava quilting basilicas that pillage lilies

With their hilly guillotines that hang their heads within a dream;

Seams of empyrean emerald tendrils that poke out our eyes with their divide;

Tied together; nylon feathers; nine tenants of an ember’s remembrance

Before they burn away in the jade of eternity

Raking lakes from the ichor from my veins;

Stained in azaleas I fall from grace, a land of lace, flat on my face,

To billow bougainvillea in the cerulean vermicelli

Of anchored branches that hang me like a bangled lantern dismantling chrysanthemums

In the satin caper of sapient sapphire irises

Dying in the choirs of sunlight’s rising fibres;

Disappearing murals, the ethereal lyrics of a song I’ve yet to sing;

With broken wings in the twinge and twine

I hang the signs and cross the line;

I am the page; the tide will rise like hyacinth once again;

The song will fail to reach your ears;

Mountains underneath the pier

The crevice’s nemesis pistons dripping ripped in shapeshifting lithium

In the ichor’s vice-grip slicing into with the spoon of the new moon

Ballooning cumulus grooming itself on the alpines of the skies

Like caramelized horizons in spiralling kaleidoscope opals

Colloquial with the oaks of opening clouds in the ballad;

The downpour of morning meteors in orbit

Gorging on chlorophyll citadels swelling in buildings vermilion

And cerulean silhouettes in stillnesses

Depths and the steps of precipice, of repetition

Littering a sky of pine trees making crepes of the maple leafs;

The yoke of the sun in the cracked shell of porcelain

Hollow trees weaving the chiseled willows of sigils

Whittling down to the last ounce of wildflower;

What are we, if not the world?

Made manifest(o) in the depths of crescendo;

You see the beauty again because it has been taken away from you;

Lucky enough to fall and learn to stand

Rejoice in losing, baptized anew in the pits of it;

Hold beauty’s hand

It welcomes you to build over its depths

Wicker of lithium trickling from the cistern bliss of whistling abyss

Christened by the chrysalis of the hist of Icarus

In visceral precipitation at the depths of precipice listening to itself;

A bell that doesn’t thunderclap of the wrapping lap of baptisms

Imprisoned in the wings of obsidian

And the bristled brushstrokes of stygian

Vermilion under the star above the push to shove,

It comes, it comes;

Prisms of linens ribs like a stepladder to the attic of Babel

Taffeta swathed in lavender on the addled gravel of hallelujah

Valhalla the entombed womb of junipers’ cumulus;

Buds of a penumbra

In the hallucinogenic fuchsia of a nucleus

Between the grooves of illumination

Basins that wastelands crowd in the valves and cowls

Of velvet parhelion in the varicose oceans

That grovel bottomless to the lisp of omniscience

Ricocheting in the minds of men without serenity

Rippling serendipitously to the wishful ichor of terpsichorean Prometheus

Reaping itself in the chapel of raptured rapids

Praying to the pristine chaos of Himalayans;

Swollen with exfoliating holy magnolias

Woollen with purgatories phantasmagoria

Ouroboros in the floral gorge of a cornea;

Lapsing in the collapsing masquerades of castaways

In the shaded glades of mayhem’s pendulum

Bending itself amorphous mouth

With the flowering towers of malleable valleys

Blending in the setting sun; melding bellflowers

Penultimate asphalt tumbling from the summit of mothered covers of clouds

That palisades the balconies unwelcoming

To the sweltering pelts of alcoves in groves of clovers

Boiling over in chlorophyll spilling lilies brimming sillouque

And the candles of dandelions lighting the darkness

With arches carving starlings from the skies

Of barbed wired hyacinth

With a hymn beneath each wing

Singed by the blimp of photosynthesis

As phosphorescent as the bethels of exodus

Wrestling requiem within the fibrous kaleidoscopes

In horizons of bloated lotuses fat off the land and the skies;

Winding itself; violet pyres of pelted balaclavas lazuli

Paddling through the slush of a mushroom cloud;

Dusting percussion in the flustered fluidity of lucidity

Rhythm in the symmetry of whittling defibrillation

Manipulating the foundations of shapeshifting eclipse

Echoing into the steps of hecatomb

Blooming in the noose of a spruce

And the poplars like phosphorus obelisks

That shingle the ringlets of each ring-finger’s disfiguration

Mask on the face outcasted crocheted in bays of mosaic;

Wraiths of scintillation;

Dilapidated aether in the maze of oasis

Raking over the clovers of a supernova

Posies in the ambrosial motions that flock in the apocalypse

Like the hands of a clock lost in the clockwork cornstalks

Among the breath of incandescent incendiary alstroemerias

Under edifice of lithium in the presence of luminescent crescents

Bethels of ancestral effigies that bend like reeds in the breeze of Elysium

Spriggans carved from the stars of cinnbar

Bonfires of light fighting for another breath

While the world rests

Upon a bed of sunflowers






Beads of sweat strung together

By skin like a rosary in the camouflage of autumn andromedas

Monoliths fathering the bottomless abyss

With lithium’s bliss in the fresh blooms of a monsoon

Like a cyclone of saxophonist chromosomes

Elastic Damascus cacophonous

Blasphemy basking in the afternoon

Sun-melted butterflies like the churning of a burning man

In his halberd of shrouded flowers

Shallows of balaclavas galleries tower fragile candelabras menageries

Like a malleable gown of gallows

Cowled in disembowelling mortality and immorality

Bound in albums of amalgam

In a single singed finger’s battalions

Lifting in mistrals’ crucifixion

Rifting glistening in crypts of nickel lithium

Crystalline as the banks of hippocampus and the dreads of riverbeds

Bled dry from the high-rises

Spiralling in the islands of manmade violets, pyres

And the damned wildfires in our hands spangled

In the bangled wrist of Nyx

Riffs of cliff racing chrysalis

Bantering with amaranthine chrysanthemums

Answering only to the moaning Symphonia

Like the roar upon the uproared flora of quarries;

Storied shores of church organs

In the foliage of primordial euphoria

Magnolias recoiling moored down the last sound

Before the collapsing rafters of silence;

Its rapids chapels captured in the blurred insurgency

Re-emerging flourishing incandescent efflorescent

Bethels like sentinels of pretzeled pencils sacramental

To the entrails of a halo shading the reverberating patience

A fallen nation wraith-less ripped out of the equation of

Defibrillating oasis bales; of maelstroms like barley and straw

Parlay to gods in the lottery of andromeda

Pollinating stamens in the carnival of polymers

Heard in the murmuring of eternity curving its blade around a lampshade’s aether

The creation of Aegises discombobulated

By the bottomless autumn choreography of knotted obelisks

Uplifting in the lips of one fists’ ellipses

Rippling down from the shallow alcoves of balconies

Of barbed wire choirs ichor of Poseidon ivory dilated in dilapidation

Wrapped in the sap of lackadaisical

In the boughs of chalices

In the stones of chromosomes

In the crows and telephone poles

In the rise of a dying star; we walk on blistered feet

But haven’t come too far; beyond the horizon; beyond the bars

We used to build ourselves like open mouths interstellar parhelion;

Belts sprouting in taffeta pastures of asphodel,

Daffodils, steeples of sterling whirling around the shaft of cacophony

Cactus leaf, mountains’ foundation in lakes of polymerization

Skyscrapers calling in the stalls of winding xylophones

In the waning and waxing of saxophones

In the Rorschach of alabaster;

In the tossing and turning of the sky pockmarked with clouds;

In the crashing rapturous cloves of our motionless oceans

In the frozen locomotion of ambrosia

Amber handed candied lights in the cities of defibrillation’s depths

In decrepit beckoning of springs ringing in

A dead breath of lead beckoning across the rusted lustre of a serpentine skyline

Winding itself into the spiralling shell,

The matrix of polymerization; the glow of a rotary phone

In the bioluminescent sepulchres of vessels burned in stygian

Spindling hymns of incendiary carousels

That bellow belltowers unravelling calligraphy

And lazuli calendars of callous words

That churn in each ocean of emotion;

Each fire reclining in the skyline;

Each blossom of lost men;

Terracotta andromeda and cauterized mahogany

Tobogganing into the monotony

In the menorahs of chlorophyll billowing chiselled sigils of willows

Enkindling the inkblots of bloodshot apostles

Rocking apothecary in the phosphorus apocryphal docks of cottonwood

The esophagus of every coffin and esophagus

Born to be this way, born to be this;

This sunset kiss; this run, this miss, this lit abyss

Where we see the light that hides behind our own shadows

In a battlefield of leaves and breeze rattling to the seven seas

Bleeding ephemeral; because in the end it's ours;

Each bead of sweat; each Mars; because they can take this, they can take it all;

This pride; dying chimera spiralling;

An island subdividing in the isles of fireflies ivory;

A crumpled bible’s regressing into crescents crepuscular burning;

Through this wording; eternally;

The fleecy creases hide me from myself;

But I still dream; I still love; for now; for you; for me; believe;

The shrapnel of a saplings cacophony can be a tree;

Sapphire beads; in wrapped wire bleed

Between a seamstress of leaves seemingly serpentine

In the terpsichorean onomatopoeia

Paraplegic credence weeding out the fever from the dream

Birthing me (from the curtains of uncertainty)




Light flooding muddied colours;  

Over the rugged umbrage; [primitive limericks; chalky apostles against the blackboard night]

In the [motherless] stutters of [thundering] hummingbirds

[In a fatherless collage; the façade of Molotov auburn cosmos]

Blurring like burgundy hurricanes; [barley carnivals harvesting arteries of varicose streams]

[Washing cornstalks with a flock of nightingales viscus as clouds covering the sun]

In still frame of sunbathing chambers

Champagne radiance denser than the leather tethers of vegetation

In the tapered shape of oasis

Aether in the nape of jade

Laid down crowned like a hollow ground

Balaclavas in the ballrooms ballooning with junipers

Ripping into viscera off the eucalyptus cliff

Rifting bliss with the abyss eclipsed echoing

Crescents of lactescent effigies

Sequestered sepulchres stretching bethels across

The length of the skyline freed by the tumultuous kneading of the breeze

Easing into onomatopoeia

Pleasing the mind with the vinyl ivory pines

And vines of mummified dryad kaleidoscopes

Violet as the nine horizons

Climbing skyward in the waves of a lackadaisical tornado

Sailing its wing slinging the singing

Of amygdala’s rigging themselves in the mouths of umbrellas

Of nebulous parhelion wrapping through each crannied crack of dilapidation’s basin

Crocheted in the mosaic

Cracks on the face; masquerading azaleas in the sidewalks that wind clocks of hemlock

Lining the hallways of mother nature

Columns that follow the hallow cauldrons of bulbous polymers

Drawling into choreography

The stamens of discombobulation

Molotov’s burning like sterling

Derelict perfect under the hot rising sun

In its ghetto of archipelago’s petals folding magnolias

In primordial foliage coiling in oil paintings

Laced with the naked waking day

That craves for the soul of tomorrow’s borealis

In the pastures of tapestries taffeta

Rorschach’s of accents lamenting lampposts of

Ghostly tuberculosis; tendrils of a pencilled sentence

Emulating itself in the embroidering morning

Across the docks of shattered sky

Rocking in the waves of raven Hade’s derailing volcanos in a halo of Beowulf;

Like stray-waves, Himalayan

They break themselves on the shore recessing back into iridescence

Stapled into maple trees

Etched into each maleficent crescent

Sepulchre stretching necklaces into iridescence

And the crepuscular reunion of the moon with Neptune

Cradling mud

And caked in sun

Along the coast of ambrosia

Crows unfolding their wings like origami

Trying to touch the moons

Like shattered amethyst



Murmuring Screams



Noises like a constant cacophony of voices

In the turquoise void

Flipping a dime rhinestone in my mind

Shackled in the alabaster pastures of an afterimage

Tenebrous crows of still painted oceans

Written in ellipses and lithium riffs

From the cliffs of superstition

Eclipsing itself like a bell tower

Unravelling (staccato and javelins) amber banisters of lavender flowers in balaclava satellites

The bethels’ ecstasy breathing in the elysian breezing itself upon a bronze bell

In an onyx mouth shellshocked by flocks of mockingbirds

Observing the flurry of a hurricane’s gaze

Betraying the night for the day in sage

And tangled vines of frayed pages in disarray

Plaguing the bands of avenues

And the lilac blinding highways of ivory in my mind;

Patrolling exfoliating magnolias like tinfoil accordions

Boarded up buses of ruptured percussion

Rustling the leaves of my retrieval in this seagulls mistral;

Iridescent cathedrals pencilled in my temples

Like a pollen’s colosseum in each cathedral helix

Reeling in the ceiling’s hymns outside the spindle of a windowpane

Stained with the glass of Rorschach’s alabaster

In the reddened setting sun spun in one hundred peeled tongues

Wallpaper of aether; makeshift griffins of lithium

That glisten with their tips of bristled viscera

In the percussionist and precipice,

The anticipating proliferation precipitation of a nightingale in a maelstrom

With the gusts that flustered nothing from the sweet kiss of an abyss of glyphs

Rippling their crippled wings like crooked rooks on books like inukshuks

In a hail of railing ukuleles

That pale to the azaleas behind each guise of the one-eyed scythe

Under the threads of nebulous arpeggios

Ebbing tenor in the wedding of evanescence

And the vessels of dishevelled ebony calm; (ponds of auburn mitochondria)

(Among the columns of choreography)

In the frolicking hallways and signs of an unopened mind

Wide and bridling itself in the gout of an open mouth

Like an ecclesiastical saxophone

Like taffeta, Rorschach, cacophonies

Chanting answers in the lance of a chrysanthemum’s glance

Anthers that dance nickels glistening from proliferate

Their hands like the petals of reverends

In the pleasures of Armageddon severing ties with the eyes in the sky

Spying on mother Gaia in wildfire

In the chiseled bougainvillea of willows

Killed in the wilderness of her lips

Swayed in the sun-laced oasis of her hips


Defenseless Rock


Falling upon each other

Like the crashing of ocean waves

Like words taking form

Against rough and worn;

Jagged rocks along the ridges and coast

Shores and cliffside

With a hundred eyed horizons

Guiding through the emerald islands

The cello like parhelion bellowing with the volume of melancholy

Meticulous whispers of the eclipse

Hist of Prometheus, Nyx and Icarus

Like onyx monasteries under the sun chariot

As magnolias exfoliate

Aching in the oasis

Of creation’s tapered shapeless wastelands

Of bangled chandeliers

Gathering the unfathomable labyrinths

Of an infinite symphony

Like islands in the asylum of rhinestone

All that glitters; mine alone

Piece together Armageddon in its black pearls

Swirling in the curls of sterling

In their colours sworn to kill

Eruptions gusts of

Intertwining vinyl

I was too greedy; too immature

As if to say crown, rose, thorns

The peace without the war

The crown without the scorn

The trees without the seed

The body without the bleed



Evangelical pedestal



The end,

The crescendo of days

Spiralling out

Of control

In plates

Overflowing ambrosial with pears gone varicose

Soma within dilapidated daisies

Obsidian ridges with twigs of amygdala’s

Bridging the gap of a scrapyard of living oblivion

Marring barley harlequin with hymns gone panoramic

Graphite; knifelike stabbing through flesh on a page

Bowls of magnolias’ swollen eyes

Watching the earth in its blind journey

Around the block of a city street

Blotches of candelabra

Disembodied auburn

I eat my words

Full of myself

But empty, lifeless




Scars starlike across the barbed wire of my back

Shackled in the asters of

Rorschach daffodils springing their heels

From the turquoise foliage

And soiled ridge amaryllis pilgrim sigil priscillas

My shoulder-blades

Racking across the docking crops

Of swathed phosphorus oxen

Dragging the slabs of my innocence from below the prison of my skin;

Carved into statues and pews for doomsday

Looming over the October ambrosial opal

Bangled in the sky like a wide eye

Spiralling out of proportion like the combing over of an ocean

Tossing and turning burgundy in thaumaturgy’s hurricanes

Of stained-glass pastures grasslands of rapture

Wrapped around the rapids of the clouds

Like the bowels of seven Armageddon’s

Penning the towers of balaclava’s February with wisterias

And the flare of alstroemerias

Fairies of arrogant wastelands

In the strands of each bangled pomegranate band

Tangled in the fringe of my skin

Rippling the skipping gripping lithium of sigil’s bougainvillea

Calligraphy splintering infants

Rinsed in the incandescent of crescent vessels

Sepulchres of precipice in the clandestine bethels of efflorescence

Nestled within (effigies swimming within the chimneys like) the beginning of a symphony

Blistered in synchronicity

Pressed between the hands of a demon

In a cathedral of broken steeples

Weeping in the rain of open flames like watercolour

Bibles of vinyl scribe synchronized colliding ivory iris of

Blinding horizons winding the spiralling iris of wildfire skylines

In the piers disappearing into the opera of clockwork,

Ticking, ticking, ticking, in cracked chapel clocktower

Glass hearts shatter like a womb flowers

Towels of wilting silk of billowing umbilical willows

Trilling Yggdrasil tenebrous threads of reverend’s nebulous hallucinogenic

As the steady brevity of evergreens

Screaming in the delirium of onyx and bronze

Peeling like the gold leaf off (the creased page of) a phoenix mischievously

Bleeding past into the seedlings of evening’s string

Of seraphim knitting the abyss from the veins licked on my wrist

In these coffins of phosphorus metropolis

The man upstairs

Has no need for his basement

With fingers wrapped around my neck like a rosary

Like a portrait of amorphous orchards scorned with ambrosial chlorophyll

Tempestuous golems wandering andromeda like mitochondrial constellations

Obscuring insecurities

With heft, with ease

We break ourselves against the shore

We deny ourselves failure; so we know no growth

Drunk on the liquor of Icarus

Falling for something

That never learned to walk

Cradling the earth

Like it too

Is an open wound

Sown together

With the seeds of a harvest moon

Sometimes I hear the colours

Cluttered in the attic of my mind

Books I never read

Old and faded

But beautiful covers





The esoteric heretics’ eclipse;

Pope of all things incorporeal

In the floral menorah orgy chlorophyll

Corridors coronating corners embroidered

In the flock of cornstalk mockingbirds

Of hemlock phosphorus in dystopian cornucopia

Roping in the dopamine of a dream

Like flowering talisman falling off the chains,

Have you forgotten us; stillness, silence, nothingness?


Like so many of our fellow children?

Clinging to something, for nothing at all?

Are you all that’s left of us?

This is all we were?

Nothing at all?

In the phantasm of cavernous chasms that labyrinth and blimp

From the stars of cinnabar into backyard scimitars

Shrivelled bougainvillea of the luscious percussionist

Illustriously greases the creased glade of the page

With a sage’s oasis brushing rushing waters

By the slaughterhouse’s mouth in the alcoves of ambrosial pandemonium

Coves of exodus and bethels that yell gibberish

The yellows swell of death knell’s parhelion

In the carousel of bell towers

In a trounced flower ballooning nucleus

Ruthlessly acoustic bricks of serendipitous crypts

Of wicker’s eclipse like pink idiosyncrasies

Wrinkling the eyelids with bonfires of silence

Electroconvulsive ulcers of pollening andromeda

Columns culminating cultures

Vultures bulbous alters

Choreography’s melancholic palpitating aegis

Cauldrons exfoliating matrix

Monsters sapient in the embouchure

Embalming constellations

Embroidered in the morning

Coiling its wings singed in oil painted

Swings hanging from the jagged daggers’ canopy

Of bottomless mahogany in the terracotta obelisks

Presenting efflorescence incandescent effigies

Vestibules pressed into the whims of pestilent hymns

Sauntering penultimate of inaudible polymers pauldron

Rugged summers like cinnabar starlings

You took from us our sun

Give us back the warmth of summer

The cold of winter

Let us feel it in our bones;

And understand

Before our ashes become as faded as our soles

(Sandals walking over the depths of despair)

(Footprints only we could see)




Glasses of taffeta

Black as a Rorschach’s anathema

With the bathing laughter of epitaphs

Blasphemous baptism

In the ashes of sacrilege

Alabaster lapis in the shrapnel

Of a daffodil’s frills

Of umbilical guillotines

Of amaryllis bougainvillea

Capillaries of familiarity

Barren prairies of apothecary

Bloated apotheosis apostles of rotten mitosis

Inaudible molecules of dahlia

Pollinating columns of gin and tonic

Choreography’s cauldrons

Like warmongering psalms in the polymers

In the swallowers’ grovelling

Mongrels of andromeda carnivals

Like an archived vinyl’s

Horizon spine-like graphite

Bison deciphering ichor of ripening lichen

Among rapids of caskets alabaster wet with the Nephilim;

Inviting nectar’s sin in the lilac swim

Of binary skyline’s violets many islands

To the high-wire’s nihilist umpire unbridling

Lilac tints of iris glinting with the hieroglyphics

Of a whistling symphony that glistens like nickels

In the grip of the shapeshifting spit lithium

And its shapeless acres lacquered in each word

Heard by the bluebirds

Congruent crucibles in the lucid fold

Of wolves and clovers with sheep’s wool pulled over

The eyes of Poseidon are (like) a Frankenstein’ violin;

Picking at the strings with a golden ring’s embroidered sting

With the pixie lickerish of wings stygian brigadiers

Of lyrics murals of (the) spherical earlobe

Left for the crows in my flow ozone

In the interwoven posies of a supernova frozen

In the explosion of monotone soma of emotionless opals

Groping the cornucopia for a droplet of phosphorus

Prophecy among the clockwork blocks

Of cornstalks nocturne burning through suburbia’s hernias

Gorges forged from the core of forevermore

Organs and primordial chlorophyll churning in thaumaturgy’s winds

Among poplars and mockingbirds

Nightingales and azaleas

Flailing like a railroad of ambrosia

Molding into foliage like a phoenix eclipsed

In the bliss of mithril glyphs of crystal abyss of rippled mistrals

Blistering the lips of their history

Sprouting blouse from the mouth of a balcony

The words like rocks jutting out from the jugular of the mountainside

Cold, yet solid

Candle Wax



Carnivalesque efflorescent crepuscular testament

He who bares the greatest light

Held out his hands; each a lantern in the darkness;

Casts the greatest shadow down into infinity

But I live in the dark

Or less; the hollow of the tree

You light the way, huh?

Amber candles

Shrouded caramel

Chandeliers of the empyrean

The amorphous

Tenebrous heavens

Shredding nebulous

Reddening ebony

Amorphous porcelain

Amaranth tarantulas spiderwebbing Serengeti’s

And the setting of the edifice, is yours

Eclipsing crucifixion afflicting Nyx’s mistress

Of wicker’s pitch Icarus like the threads of a nebula

In swelling caramel parhelion welling in sweltering elegies

In unilluminated fuming plumage

Anubis blooming civilizations matrix

Of airy plumerias oasis shapelessness

In wraiths’ abyss pacing aether through sapience

Weightlessness shifting crystalline bliss

Lifting gypsies of viscera

For kindred souls glistening the next world

Whistling in limitless eclipse

But not for me

In sunless oneness spun from the umbrage of thunder’s lips

Juicing hallucinogens of putrid spruce of lucid tattooed nucleus

Sinking infinitely into pink lucidity

Phantom’s lances of amber

Anther’s chrysanthemums

I hate what I can’t have

Like javelins of chasms of jasmine labyrinths

Unravelling lavenders like Babylon

A scabbard cataclysm combing over the cornstalks

Like a catacomb of satellites

Brighter than the ichor of a lightning strike

Hallelujah; hallelujah, hallelujah

Music falls on deaf ears

Fuchsia pollution through the dew of a uvula

Serpents chirping sprouting from the earth in Ursuline


Painting itself from the toes to the mouth

Nyx’s viscera like elastic Damascus

Blasphemous rapids of sacrilege asters

Tapestries wrapped in the grasses of taffeta

Mapping lactescent crescents in the bethels’ decibels

Crescendos rending in endlessness’s pull

Shrapnel’s shape of baskets clasping full

The dying soul as wires grope

The vinyl wool of isles cold

In violet flow disciples tow

The lilac hull in the flaccid daffodils

Trilling vermilion like defiling violins of their unhinged strings

And vile hymns of miles limbs

With the pitch of bristling hieroglyphics

Tattooed in illumination

Basins of bay laced in glades shapeless maze of decay

In the braids of a ukulele

Porcelain scorpion chords

One dab of black ink dwarfing the amorphous porcelain

Interloping tenebrous oceans of cornucopia

The sun a burnt out lightbulb

In a pitch black room

Filled with unlit candles like fingers scratching

Against the heavens

But I wear the crown; right?

I must

What else is there for me

In life

And in death

But this?

For me

What is anything I’ve ever owned; but that?

Rhinestone oceans unloading foreboding tenebrous oceans

This world is beautiful; even at its worst

One match of alabaster

Strangled by a strand of darkness

Stitching shadows into light

Like bevelling reverberating revelations

Thaumaturgy’s of lace sanguine bangles

Of sacrosanct in the talons of flowers

Like crumpled towels in the bowels of balaclavas

Ruffling their feathers in the tethers of the heavens

Ravaged lapis lazuli

And the flaming whip of Icarus

Eclipsed planting his granite fantasies

In the clockwork of rocks cauterizing caramelized horizons

In the fibres that kaleidoscope

Into the fabric of candles

Like amber chandeliers

In the spherical mirrors of cathedral’s murals

In the gem of a speleothem shredding nebula

In the neon lights’ embryo

Of a moon scythe incandescent crescent of pale braille fingernails

Braided in the halos and bales of maelstroms

Drowning in flowers pastures of hourglass

Wrapping taffeta around the shrouded steeple

Wreathed of ether bequeathing the reaping of the creatureless deep end

Crocheted in the jade of a blade of grass

Like jasper capturing the heart of arsenic

In the stark arching march of cartilage

Of darkness embarking past the bark of a starlings’ carvings

In the grimoires of barley set ablaze like a maze of hazel

Azaleas like grey railings crossing phosphorus

Along the staircase of discombobulation

The fog of choreography tobogganing down the andromedas

Of doomed moons cratered with the aether of each stray mosaic

Each strand branding each magnolia embroidering

Braiding itself like a stitching mouth

Like the gulf of each bulbous polymer

Crawling through the follicles that yell past the shell’s mandala

In a collage of bottomless dichotomies

Like the strawberry moon illuminating creations

Like the basin of all abbreviation raking matrixes;

The stake of shapeless lacquered oasis

Cremating lakes that wake each step

Dressed in the restless polyester pestilence each bethel’s meshing precipice

Of crystalline phoenixes like bristling lithium

Brushstrokes across the red-throats groping the sloping

Cornucopias of the rope of opals vorpal

With the morsels incorporeal bent into sentence

Upending in memories disassembling the broad assemblage

Of hemlock mockingbirds in the blur of a re-emerging hurricane

Of fallen names on polyphonic plains

Columns of monikers stirring sterling murmuring burgundy

To the surging rivers of splintered scintillation

Glaciers in the erasure of napalm gondolas

Swallowing the neon obelisks in a monastery of precarious paradise

Like evangelical parhelion

Embroidering Morningstar

With the cinnabar of reddening unsettling weddings in Armageddon

Shredding the shell for the ones who fell beyond the well of a skeleton

Fly under the strings of Saturn’s rings like a pelican

Winged sprigging in the jigsaw of amygdala

(Bangled amber chandeliers of neon terpsichorean weeding itself swelling arpeggios of rosaries)

(Swollen golden Asmodeus primordial boreal coiling in the magnolias of rolling foliage)

(In the burs of turbulent murmurs metallurgy surging burgundy sterling unfurling)

(From gulfs of malting tumultuous penultimance; in the gauze of strawberries blaring clarinets;

(Posies of welling parhelion interstellar yellow bevelling velvet and swivelling vermillion)

(In the willow pavilions of sigils etched incandescently meshing into photosynthesis)

(While the sun casts its shadow on me)

(The moon melted wax)

(A burnt candle drowning in the shadow of its own delicate flowery disembowelling)

(In the gravelly amber of its spiral’s geyser of pyres’ briar iris)

(Undermining in the winding spine of a kaleidoscope crocheted in the clay of ocean waves)

(Wrapping taffeta clouds around itself like a blouse in undulating wavelets of the hazel azaleas)

(Dancing across the horizons like a celestial body, heavenly hymns tendrils of emerald trim)

(Canter in the wind)

(Planted seraphim)

(Amber in the dim)

(Chance within the fringe)

(Answers for the sin)

(Candor in her limbs)

(Anthers in the bangled dandelions glint)

(In petals metallurgy, flint; reddening in emissaries of a leather desert)

(Rinsed in the handprints of scintillating infinites)

(In nebulous perennials like the entrails of a railroad; bathed in halos; cedars fleeting)

(And April’s maples like crepes that gape their mouths as they drown in flowers of hours)

(The oak trees that crown all Valhalla)

(And the oceans in one lotus)

(Crocheted bays of azaleas in a trail of entrails laden with the paved plains again)

(Trodding on the bottomless candelabra of rhubarb carved into the palms of constellations)

(Ovulating in the matrix of creation)

(Satin astral Rorschach’s in the fractal taffeta grasping daffodils by their cashmere frills)

(Basking in the summer sun, alone)

(With everyone)

It is a beautiful thing; to love everything, and to hate it, too

Why won’t you give me your abondance?

You never had to ask for anything

You destroyed me

Like I would; you

So I live between the moments

That cast me into doubt

From your heaven; to my hell

Locked between the bars of a sentence

I never wrote





Fringe of Winter’s Last Rites


In a pencil’s peninsula

As the isles kaleidoscope into opals

To sit there (under the sun)

And laugh for eternity in despair; that’s all there is

To wallow forever in torment; drowning on air

That is all

There is (for me)

At all



Hollows among swallows pollinating the abyssal’s kiss

Looking right into the sun you (will blink and then)

Won’t see anything but shadows

And that is my battle; lapis lazuli

In sun fall’s (rhinestone crimson) hours rattling chasms of lavender

Spun yarn; flowers

Rattling chasms of lavender to Saturn’s spurred

By rings like tributaries marionettes setting sun’s on fire

(And martyring daughters, mothers, fathers)

Sinking into pink infinity

Dimly trimmed with the golden ambrosial rays of marmalade

Waiting until the first bud opens its pelican mouth

Passages written through time; or the hands of a clock

(Wadding through the aether raking its fingers through the singed face of oasis laced in gold)

As if to say nothingness

Isn’t silence

(Isn’t words)

(Isn’t me)

(Yet it is such)

A phoenix of viscera

Nyx’s wicker and her eclipse; her own crucifixion of whisperers

As if to say

One dab of black ink is dwarfing the amorphous porcelain

Hewing in fluidity and fluorescence of ebbing edifice wedding nebulous

(Pebbled nebulous tendrils of emerald gauze)

Interloping tenebrous oceans

Of cornucopia are on the brink of dying

In the heavens and ending up on earth

As if to say nothing, until it became something;

In the open flame of redemption

Hugging the reddened remains;

The cremated coals of love;

Cradled by the bibles of life

Written by spirits long dead

And drunk down to the final droplet of morning

(Can you still feel yesterday in your veins?)

As if to say, I feel, and breathe and die, like and unlike everyone else

I look at you in a two way mirror; never trusting with my eyes

As if to say

I don’t what to see this reality anymore;

But at one point, it was beautiful

Before it huddled under the pavilion of time

Without an umbrella or a dime

As if to say; hello

(I think of nothing, and therefore I am)

(If it were my last rites lost to the wind of buried kin)

(And carrion in the feathery windswept tethers of Armageddon)

(Settling in my ears like a pyramid)

(Built like heaven from the ground up)

(I love this absolutely and completely)

(In an abstract sense)

(Of incense bent)

(Into the white[‘s of my eyes like the] picket fence of [incomprehension in the seams] of a dream)

As if to say


For the last time; (the last rhyme)

[But not so sublime]

As if to say

I’m leaving you

As if to say


(I had forgotten what I was before I metamorphosized man)

Go on to conduct your own symphonies

But know;

That I am the notes written in-between the lines

(Of muddy boots that leave their tracks across white bulbous tundras like strange fonts familiar)

Somewhere dripping fresh still on your pages

As if

I could say more

Will you?

(Or will you leave me to tumble [like caution in]to the wind)

(And die like the rest of them?)

[I am]

[Your kin]

[Crammed within]

[To be your bridge]

[On rhinestone ridge]

[Black pines like shivs]

[Or violins]

[(In Nile’s bougainvillea)]

[(I am a grand cerulean basilica whittling Veridian in willows of sigil’s calligraphy)]

[(Spindling whims the exorcism of incendiary blizzards like ribbons in the rivers)]

[(Infinities own prison)]

[(Linen prisms of obsidian)]

<[(Scimitars within my bars)]>

[(Upon black sands)]


[(Rigging themselves from the mouth of the gulf)]

[(Capsized in the horizon)]

[(Bygones, bygones)]

[(I need you)]

[(And hate myself)]

[(For that)]




Wedding Heaven With Armageddon

(A river of whitewater) light (rapids of gelatinous molasses in pastels of velvet elegies)

Is finding its way through the cracks of a doorframe;

Unhinging (like a scar from skin)

(Wrenching) itself from the peeling flakes of wallpaper;

A jigsaw flawed;

Bottomless collages crashing irrational

As if bending itself into colour through the prism of a windowpane;

Stretching past into shadows;

Into the unknown;

Fringing through corridors, through houses, through chapel glass;

Pretzeling itself into fetal agony;

Alone in the bathroom perhaps,

Or maybe an empty closet where the faucets of phosphorus drip viscus abyss

With the rippling wicker of lithium;

Passing into saxophones and abstract imagery;

Rorschach’s of cashmere peering through a zoo of vivid rhythm;

Swimming in the ribboning (scimitars’) brightness like a cypress in a lightning strike

Branching out and shouting drowning mouths

That scream from murals of luminous colour;

Butterfly horizons in the ivory and violet

Writhing in the knives unbridled with the briars of bonfires;

Geysers of hyacinth crying like botanical pianos

Mangled by the tango of dandelion

Formaldehyde blinding silence with its cat-eared veneers

Of Damascus blasphemy cast in the lashing asters of alabaster

Masquerading bouquets of crocheted vertebrae

Bales of barley and guitars of harlequin

(Stringed with arteries darting through shards of cartilage);

Wilting quilted in brilliance

Billowing willows sigils of vermilion

Trilling into the umbilical acrylics of silicon posies

Crows of soma born from the coves of ambrosia

Floating with the lotus oceans

Braided by the Himalayans that parade down into the bowels of Valhalla;

A valley shrouded in clouds that balaclavas of satin whiplash daffodils

Like crashing waves of the barricades of oasis

Gallows laced in the matrixes of polymerization

And the jail of a maelstrom

Like anesthetic Armageddon in the shredded metallurgy

Like the threading of leatherback stitching itself

Into the wickers of hell and the steel men of a speleothem;

Shedding their feathers in a bethel’s reflection

Sepulchre of resurrecting Nephilim

Under the psalms of a neon sun

Stumbling to the blood moon pooling aluminum

In the illuminating acres of asphyxiated discombobulation

In autumn’s choreography tobogganing mahogany

And terracotta columns of yawning constellations

Laying the foundations of a collage of andromeda

In the hazy mosaic of the trounced mountaintops

Of phosphorus nocturnal in the eternal inferno

Of a concerto of plumerias like buried cherubim;

Singeing themselves on the mouthing elegies

On the edge of parhelion welling in the eyes of a spiral

Across miles of lilacs

Black with the afterimage of gauze assemblage

Of cauterizing sunrises of ivory like a charred chariot

Of vicarious varicose crows

And caramelized in the violets of a skyline;

Reflecting echoes incandescently in secluded luminescence

Flexing the fingers into ribboning riggings

Along the ferried tributaries

Carrying me down into the flaking sun and scraping clouds;

Hooks pencilled in lamps of stars sterling

And starlings in the fog of August

Rustling through the supple luxury of the afternoon blooms

Disillusioned with the cruising ruby hallucinogens

Of spreading Serengeti in serendipitous eucalyptus

Drifting apparitions of whispers from the cliff of Icarus

Wilting in willows and bougainvillea spilling out from the blouse of velvet

Melodies in wailing ukuleles

Braiding the cratered latex of lactescent effigies

Meshing like pretzeled extraterrestrials

In the zest of evanescence pressing itself into the crowded valleys

And the clouds swollen coals in golden pandemonium

Combing the shores of orange chlorophyll

In hilly chiseled whittling in brittle vermilion

Crossing the sun tossed clockwork in brothels of mockingbirds

Nocturnal as the red moon in June;

Loosening through the juices of a spruce,

In the esophagus of poplars gospels of phosphorus

That blossom and bud in the studded summit of put back together heavens

In the crevice of metal edifice

And the parhelion of a cello’s melody

In the harmonies of disembodied seas

Among pomegranate lanterns amplified by the lilac rhinestones of an opal ocean

In a collage of solitude and mandala of halogens;

Carnivals of choreography ballooning into the fuselage of nucleus and cumulus;

Crocheted bouquets caught in the sliver of a river;

Silver ribbons of equilibrium and lilies of drizzling swivelling chiseled bougainvillea

Distilling the billowing vermilion of a trillion stars

Hooks of pencilled lamps festering incandescently

In the breath of bethels neglected by the nectar

The clementine heaven’s vine

The clock strangling the passage of time with its own two hands;

The frame of a second bent out of proportion;

Squeezing out the drop of every minute;

Trickling away for the flowering of every hour;

For the battalion of every single week;

Sweeping away the decades of decay;

Sweeping away the echoes of the blade among the rugged umbrage

Crashing with lapis of taffeta

Astral Damascus chapel glass

Cast in brass Rorschach rapids laughing saxophones

Soma in daffodils’ aroma coiling around the clouds

Like black lackadaisical machinations

Wrapped in jasper chapters,

Blasphemous everafter(ward)s

Like gelatinous tapestries in the gap of a Rorschach

Lacquered in the black pastel of a carnival parhelion in the shell of yellow melodies

Disheveled bevels revelling in the curvature of furniture

[This at least gives me the purpose]

[To spell it out]

[For you]





Psalms Of Hopeful Despair Like Stars Stolen From Surrender



Words like a torniquet

Bethels of crescents among the crescendo of zephyrs

Reverberating murmuring from the worm of a hurricane like the tail of a tornado

Jade jasmines of amber champagne

And I am no different

Transmogrified horizons of warped quarts

And orchids in the ceramic camouflage of mantras

Among volumes of mahogany

Never bound to be set free

Sick on my medicine;

Armageddon’s remedy; like the venomous nebula of a setting sun

An empty home

Ribbons of obsidian wrinkling ink between the lines on a page

A man who lives in the past,

Has no future to present himself

To anyone in their passage through time;

In their voyage through life

Reaching out from (this cell, this limbo, enkindled)

This (stage of) (rib)cage

To close the last door between hearts,

And sit there; my cylindrical (pinnacle) noise rolled between the fingers of silence;

Broken into shape like melted glass;

Your dandelion horizons lining the walls

Like pages of stained lamination;

Aether laced lavender Abaddon of avenues blue;

Of green views blooming in the iris swirling sterling in your spiralling eyes’ kaleidoscope

In the floating ambrosial crocheted ocean of trees

Crowned in their outstretched heaven;

Meeting my gaze; looking for the truth;

Separating into black and white;

Ignorant of all the possibilities;

Blind to our similar images;

Fading into the braziers of colour and shade

Amalgamating greys that glaze into sable;

Bleeding phoenixes of weeded arboretums;

Holding the frayed edge of a helix like a balloon;

In ifs full moon spiral dahlias;

Beyond the spun tundra’s of a river running sun crashing alabaster;

Reeding through the skies in a bible of lilac

Spiderwebbing eleven Everest from between every brink within my opening fist;

An iridescent messenger for the word that spilled from my lips like a flood of clay

In the mudslide divide of horizons

Between the eyes of bridles and briars of Nihilism

Braided in the frame of reclamation

In the gates of surrendered endless heaven;

Pent up in the lustre of rustling leaves

Paraplegic and stained with the weight of rain;

Frills of daffodils cerulean in a familiar guillotine

Whittling away at the shape of god;

Columns that facade the collage of bulbous penultimance tangled in gangrene


Topaz and Evergreens



Like a topaz calamity in opalescent Neptune;

Photon andromeda inter-looping nucleus

In the roots of Jupiter jutting from summit;

The junipers like moons estrewed in the sinew of a church pew

Unearthing resurfacing serpentine

The shell of a cellos

Heart ripped open from the empty inside out of a rose;

A hollowed-out tree

Warped into the most beautiful instruments of war

In the shrapnel of symphonies

Under the speckled crescent of pockmarks artifices

In the snarled arteries of knotted obelisks

Cobblestone soma of veneers in the clearing of an earlobe

Crows phantasmagorical; combing the telephone poles

Like a spider’s kaleidoscope of encroaching notes

I play on a iron barred guitar;

Or maybe the jail of a ukulele,

Holding nightingales in the coattails of my haloed maelstrom

In the attic of a labyrinth splintered by conifers

By the nickel sun shining its blinding binary code

Over the rosemary below

In the yoke of a broken supernovas

Sizzling villas sigil’d in the porcelain of the clouds

Like wild fireworks where the hummingbirds and butterflies of bulbous mandalas

Crawling through the blue ruse of afternoon plumage

Illuminate cumulus in the red nebulas

Like threading embryos embroidered in the distorted chords

And orifices of porcelain incorporeal metamorphosis

A flash of golden patchwork Rorschach

In the gashes of taffeta mapping the lapis

That wrap their way around the gaps of a chapels’ alabaster

Incomprehension within the wrenching entrance of another aforementioned dimension

Venturing through stencilled penitentiary

The churning of a burgundy hurricane

In the flames of eons’ of psalms gales of Hades

In the gauze of a strawberry ensemble

Embalming choreography of magnolias

Like corduroy exfoliating the matrix of polymerization

Pasted in the pastels of mortality rallying the rapids of glasswork asters

That bask in the rays of umbra

Splintering intimate symphonies

Into wintergreen crocheted in bays of marmalade hazel;

Wrinkles wrapped in the fabric of lavender;

Laced in the lacquered reeds of arboretum

Sleeves of guillotines gleaming in the ceiling of teal saplings

Of sapphire shrapnel lapping up against the shore of a polaroid

In the hollows of dahlias

Crawling from the starlings that bind the wires of cauterizing Niles;

The serpent birches like lurching currents

Pulled back from the skin with their trim of photosynthesis

Botanical attics labyrinth like ladder’s of matter to the stratospheres

Reaching like a phoenix

Like a veneer of murals and frescos of echoes

Bethels stretching electrolytes convulsing through the pulse of constellations

Malting into autumn lithography

In the collage of lager’s bottomless mahogany’s

Of closeted choreography tobogganing like lingerie decay

From the alcoves of our mouths

Bonnets embalmed in the waterway of comets glazed;

Leviathans and interweaving legions of arboretum

In the glass factories refractory in the grabbing fabric of black Rorschach

Asters Lovecraftian astronauts who thought they found god

Before they lost their minds in the pastures of rapturous hazmat’s

Asterisks shell shattering gravity like Amaterasu

In the lucid drooping of fuchsia and teal speleothem

In the nebulous embers of penumbra

In heaven’s thunder; hallucinogenic clementines like sentinels of embryos

Embroidered in a Morningstar;

Flaws augmented stars pencilled in peninsula

Magenta penitentiaries breaking and entering

The endless crescendo of disheveled meadows umbrellas’ entrails mandala

Curtailing in the gale of a fabled maelstrom of railroads

Imploding like a supernova stencilled in the pretzel of fentanyl

Dissolving like discombobulated Molotov of andromeda

Behind the bars of a mantra flaunting itself in a yellow blouse

Wisterias on the concerto of stereo merry-gos

Like a herald of marigolds in the flora of Ouroboros

Flickering with antiquity lithium electricity ticking with the wickers of ambiguous eclipse

As pictures ricochet through a fading oasis

Bathed in the glades of an evergreens’ maze

Scythes of ichor writing a maestro’s lightning bolt soldering

Orbs of chlorophyll

Torn pages contagious aegis; flayed fables of sable as the rainbow of gales frail azaleas curtail

(Strange angels) that pale (to halos) and (that) peel at (the acre’s) maple leaves

Reeling in speleothems of ethereal murals

Upon the comet’s choreography

Autumn leaves weaving dodecahedrons from the fires of unbridled ivory

Kaleidoscope in the cloak of an opal moon; looming ambiguity

Ruminating in the illusion of polymerization

From the rippling whispers of photosynthesis

Flickering matches of alabaster

Blooming pews; lapis pastors

Bastions of taffeta like blasphemous asteroids of foliage magnolias in the coil of a polaroid

Tapestries wrapping asters in the Damascus of a fractured night

Almost pitch white





Suede vertebrae of a hurricane

Birches serpentine harbouring starlings

Arboretum bulbous leaves of fallen trees

Like baubles of terracotta candelabra strawberries

Plucked like stars from the strings of barbed wire

Like a gnarled carnival swirling in the sterling of the sun

Crashing against the waves of sand in a single strand;

Tracing the oasis of polymerization;

Sketching the effigies a fresco’s bethel

In the vessels of precipice

Whispering flipping nickels of asphyxiation



Discoloured Nature



Veins of champagne and arteries of an uncharted harbour

Of barley in starlings’ carnival

Twisted hieroglyphics written in cisterns

Terpsichorean arboretums of cedar

Mirage a collage of mausoleums

Like a disembodied obelisk of August’s mahogany

Ceramic canopies of amethyst hammock

Dangling bouquets of burgundy vertebrae

Staining the Himalayans in sun-rays

Chasing abbreviation into the chapels of daffodils;

Into the steeples of ethereal;

Into the cathedrals of sulphuric empyrean veneers

Of clear immaterial murals peering into the beginning in rigid images,

Time meridian rivers of symmetry

Brimming with the stygian photosynthesis void

To the foliage that fizzles out in its silent shout;

The boughs of wildflowers

Stallions of shrouded gallows laid in polymerization

Glazed into cradling azaleas

Bound in chains of fables beneath the homogeneous Elysium;

Over the walking clockwork of Cocytus

In its swathing shape of monotonous flocking of mockingbirds

In the lithium eclipse of monoliths’ abyss;

Destiny’s ecstasy in the bethels of an echo’s effigy;

Nephilim of the deafening nectarines

Beckoning crepuscular electric in the stretching depths of bondage;

Pronged in white picket fences;

In another colour-smothered dimension

Beyond the stencil of comprehension;

Compromising the tobogganing longing of andromeda;

Angels feigning light; wrapped in taffeta;

Born from the black lacquer;

Tapestries of asper’s blasphemy like rapturous rapids that baptize the horizon in lilac

Coagulating sap from the jasper of the brass

And gelatinous alabaster forests born of rigour mortis;

Orphaned to the torn paper of my poem;

Drifting out of sentence;

Unable to find the words;

Unpronounced letters that end in Armageddon;

But once; started from harmony; carved from a barbed wire empire;

Empty mementos closing in oceans of serpentine currents

Like curtains uncertain as the day I was born

From a page torn ripped from the pyre of Gaia

In this fibrous diary like the isles of a wildflower

Crowning into this hourglass

Hell stripping the petals of its metallurgy

Like the swerve of a sterling hurricane curling itself over like a supernova






I will/do not miss these muddy feet;

The sound of water as it flows through my ears;

The honeyed soma of every moment;

Every rigid detail

Meticulous fingertips bristling,

Brushstrokes on prickly skin;

I cannot miss what has shaped me in these alabaster rapids;

This rasping lapis and jasper

It is all I am;

As I blossom apocryphal;

By the edge of the water

A yawning yarn of phosphorus dipped in cities ink;

Dressed in leprous eons of pomegranate antlers;

When you witness waiting for the end’s crescendo;

I’ll be there ageless, arms outstretched saying;

I was (already) here;

Where the walls come tumbling down like tangled hair in a bed of roses,

The messy head canon of angels combed of identity;

Where the willows imitation the imagery of their symmetry,

In the swivelling sigil of a bridge of calligraphy;

Where crisscrossing gospels in their esophagus

Lost in the mix of every blissful eclipse;

Where every unetched tempestuous precipice,

Wrestling with the vessel’d crescent incandescent

Has lessening into symbols of the abysmal;

Unopened windows that light trickles through

Flooding the room of broken pillars in bougainvillea,

Lilies and pricilla in some momentous tempest

Where in the eardrums of hummingbirds

The epithet of death’s precipice

Through calm and storm

To wait forlorn, our pages torn,

Unwritten form; forbidden lore,

An apple’s core; a river’s door, the hidden chord

Abysmal war

I will be; more

I never left

I’m still here

Waiting; in Armageddon of the setting sun;

Spun in the cluttered colours of a hundred butterflies;

El dorados’ Nirvana in acres of maple(s)

Red in a jar of boulevards (farming harlequin);

The harboured karma of carving (barley) arboretums

(Weaving immaterial murals)

Laced in the chase of faceless constellations

Basins of shapeless creations in the matrix of aether tracing its way in wastelands’ clay

Polymerization trilling in vermilion basilicas

With willows of silicon

Like corpses of porcelain metamorphosis

Coursing through the orchards of endorphins;

Warped in the contorted fortress of one’s mind;

Fingers down a book’s spine winding into the spiral iris of a kaleidoscope

Morsels of opals encroaching in the orchids contortionist

Whispering in the bridge of lithium

Through the heart of darkness in a staircase waking aether’s echolocation

Perplexing ecstasy in the hecatomb

Blooming ballooning cumulus in unison

With the translucent spruces like nucleus

Picturesque precipice outstretching of breathless Nephilim

In the derelict nectars in the depths of a thousand hectares

Wept up from the floor of a tornado’s halo

Jaded in the braziers of liberation like scattered jasmine labyrinths

In the splintered symphony of infinity;

Brass and alabaster seas in the rafters and rapids of blasphemy

Anchoring the amethyst eclipse

In liquid epiphany

In the cisterns of twisted contradictions whistling in the bristling ichor of wildfire violins

Briars in the out-branching chasms of each Pythagorean lavender

Stanza in the rivers of equilibrium photosynthesis

Rippling through schizophrenia memories of eleven cemeteries

Of paradise riffling through the static stratosphere

Avalanching matter in cataclysm

The golden wolverines of graffitied elysian magazines

Seamlessly bleeding into the cedars of phoenixes

Dripping with juxtaposition christened with the history of crippled gypsies

Prickling the sickles of mithril crescent of echoes

Ambers in the amaranths of a cramming canvas

In the islands of formaldehyde dandelions

Along the lines of barbed wire bibles;

Marigold magnolias chords of euphoria exploratory

With the thorny corridors of chlorophyll

Building into sigils and glyphs

That daffodils squiggle and spill in frantic incantations

Incendiary with the remedy of incandescent setting suns

In satin unwrapping in the brass, alabaster, jasper, and Damascus

Clashing against the rock-face

Stapling waves in the graves of hazel

Braising braiding Himalayans in the flayed pages of a hurricane

Making wraiths in the facelessness

Mentioned in a new dimension pencilled in the stencil of emptiness

Pretzeling into the mouth of alcoves of clovers in groves of soma

And the slow ambrosia of the setting sun;

Spun under slumbering moon;

Smothering its colour with the doves of summer

Penumbra like an antlered sanctuary of paraplegic phoenixes

That whisk through (viscus) hieroglyphics

(Bliss incandescent) in a zest of tempestuous maleficent effigies,

In crests of trees a bethel’s debris like moonshine concubine

Spiralling in the nylon setting of one eye in the skyline;

Swallowing hallowly;

Orbs of coral boreal chlorophyll;

Armageddon (reddening edifice in revelling metallurgy)

In a (flower petal ebony wedding in the ebbing heavenless nebulas)

(Of tenebrous coasts in the opal kaleidoscope)

(Cloaking the opening of) a setting sun

Still here

Never leaving

I wish

I could

Strings to Hang Your Angel From



The string of viridian calligraphy

As stygian as the linen in rhythm with the prisms of light

Biting into cytoplasm lavenders

Into the jasmine stratospheres and the cavernous amber of dandelion canopies

In the depths of resurrection’s carnivalesque ecstasy

In the breath of a precipice

Derelict frescoed zephyrs of bethel’s effigies

Within pastels of pastures painting the hillsides with sapphire kaleidoscopes;

Where the swimming cerulean ephemeral murals of the empyrean gin of mausoleums

The mountain’s rim like a cylindrical pinnacle of pomegranate amethysts

In a wasteland of grapes engraved in daisies

Like water running through my mind bind themselves in the swell of parhelion;

The scars on my back mirrored like constellations of drifting astral castaways

Like unmalleable florets on the edge of flower petal metallurgy;

Threads of Serengeti among the reddening fledglings of the remedy

Ebbing into serenity with the nebulous edifice of eclipse

In the depths of precipice and the lithium abyss

Polycrystalline with the wickers of ricocheting aegis

Pages ablaze with the pavement and cement

In concrete mantras crossing the washing of phosphorus

Claustrophobia with the ambrosia of an ancient ocean

Of chromosomes in the soma of posies

In a cottontail railroad of sable azaleas

Weaving the seeds of aphrodisiac saxophones

In the rolling waves of suede creasing the page with everglades

In the layers of a maelstrom of gusting percussion

Rustling through the leaves of blue like mitochondrial dominoes;

Psalms of a thousand palms in the alms of a tornado of angels;

A flower that casts its shadow on the shallows of the valley

Red with the hallucinogenic clementines of the dead;

Like baubles cobweb and orbs of the coral tomorrow curled like curdling whip

Against the bricks of a riptide

Gliding like ivory cherries through a cemetery of marionettes

Like the bangled candles of a chandelier;

Structures fluctuating oasis in the fletching of florescent incandescence

Thistles of ventricles rippling in the chapels of daffodils like a rapid of taffeta;

Tapestries of Elysium weaving the saplings

Among the trees that trapeze in the waxing of saxophones

And the waning of aeons

In the bondage of mitochondrial constellations crossing the kilometres of river

In a canoe ballooning with the fumes of junipers

Blooming runes ludicrously in the looming cumulus of uncertain currents

In the early morning’s coiling foliage

Like leather feathers hedging in the threading of a memory;

Saturn’s tattered labyrinth tethered together in the dying embers of a setting sun;

Like the fleeting graffiti of terpsichorean phoenix

Coming down with its fiery crown of flowers

In the shallows of the shadowed valleys

Unravelling in the morning’s hymn

I am no hero

I can’t deny that

Strangling hope

Camouflaging obelisks; acrylic ventriloquists;

Collages of mandalas in the assemblage of August

Biblical willows that pillage the day in its glazed parade;

Razing civilizations down to a burial mound

In the powder of velvet balaclava efflorescent zephyrs

At the pestilential precipice effigies flexing through wrestling bliss

In a kiss of lithium abyss of a crystalline crescent

Together in a nebula of tenebrous coasts with the mitosis of the oceans;

Graffitied legions of eons dawning like drawn mitochondrial

Walking down the line between a thousand signs blindingly hiding from the ivory

In the neon Toronto blond laundering

The stamens of pomegranate amber

Cavernous mannequins with the hands that labyrinth

Through the ink of a symphony composing tomorrow

In the floral Ouroboros created in the glaciers’ erasure

Like a patient matrix of oasis fastening brass saxophones

From the bones of comatose comets

That vomit sonnets with the columns of andromeda;

Rivers of equilibrium like stygian shivs in the obsidian

Slithering sifting through griffins blue with the guitars and grimoires of unstrung harmonies

Arteries arching in the Tartarus rapids of tapestries

Breathing elysian reeds of breezes weaving themselves in velvet bellflowers;

Barbed wire lilacs between the cracks gone ecclesiastical

Echoes that mesh with the wreckage and texture of bethels;

Tattooed frescos etched in the decibels of hecatomb clovers;

Rowboats in the opium psychosis of psychedelic umbrellas

Of yellow stella’s bevelling resurrection’s echo;

Imploding supernovas crows of exodus chrome ambrosia

Flowing through the bullet hole moon in a shattered window sky;

The cracks align,

The cracks are why I sketch their faces in the light of midnight nightingales

Derailing the nails of azaleas hammered into the pupils of my eyes as if they were iris;

Subdividing nylon dawn

Spawned in the choreography discombobulated

With nature wrapped around the waist in gapping aether;

Gaps of alabaster satin with the last of kin swimming in scintillation;

Dimly lit syncopation;

Rinsing the splinters from my skin;

I begin my hike again, my trek,

Along the corridors of death;

Resting festivals with the Nephilim blooming in canoes of Neptune’s junipers;

Clashing with jasper grasslands

And Damascus parting with the cartilage of the fattest trees;

Damp disease and lanterns’ debris of lances between the leaves of herculean ukuleles

In the stale halo of ghosts gone comatose

With the motion of their arms stretched out to the setting sun

That spun them from bewonderment;

Stitched them with obituaries;

Wickers unlit with the gift of Icarus

Chiseled with the children of bougainvillea

With their bouquet maelstroms frozen over hearts

Like archways in the glades of hurricanes

Painted into every corner;

Cardboard contorting and vorpal with incorporeal orchards and forests of torches

Morgues of euphoria expurgatorius morningstars

Like carved cinnabar marred from the edge of the knife;

Cutting ribboning as they fly;

Geysers of hope grope kaleidoscopes unknowing of purgatory’s flora

Burrowing through a placid moon’s canoe;

Paddling satin along the anaconda of silken scarves

Like barley harvesting samsara along the boardwalk of apocalypse;

The blossoming apocryphal octaves

Knotted in the fists of lucid crucifix;

Whispering epiphany ephemeral as the murals of chapel glass

Crafted by the spine of one’s mind;

A book of inukshuks piling themselves in bells of velvet

Leaden with ebony embroidered in the skies

Unwinding in your diaphragm;

In the sands of chrysanthemums anchoring sanctuary in the vulgarity of life;

Vice in the jaws of life;

Columns of light that follow in the Saturn’s cytoplasm

Lavenders navigating through naked wraiths of nature

Reawakening within the ache of sapients;

Saplings unwrapping into glass tapestries

Unmapped by the passageways that barricade and pastel our carnival

In the pastures of jasper lashing our tongue with the words we’ve spun

Like jasmine avenues of javelin topaz

Graffitied with the strings of a guitar

Or the unhinged nail of azaleas

Like flailing ukuleles against the flock’s of mockingbirds

In the copper mountaintops

Interlocking in octaves rotting phosphorous

From bowels of valleys

Like malleable alleyways

Beneath in shade under the faceless lace of constellations waking against shores forevermore

In the chords of floral phantasmagoria like ornery tornadoes unrailed

I am

I am

I am

Creative destruction

Writing bad poems in good graces




Graffitied Star



The mud nectar of the parasol sun

(Carousel parhelion)

Melding melting skeletons caked on scraped knees

With entrails of tendrils

Lamenting the centipede of emerald

Green on our faded pages;

Halos of fluid fuchsia on the blooming canoe of cumulus

Hallucinogens setting sail across the emblazoned horizon’s rails

Veiled in layers of hazel in the metaphor of a corneas’ corridors

Floral with the coral oranges of tomorrow

In the fog of diabolical halogens

In every polymer between the rings of my ten fingers

Lingering in palm of lingerie of mitochondrial ballrooms

Fumes of ludicrous June;

Fusing into unison in the strawberry moon;

Like the stranded amethyst of a blathering labyrinth

Laced in the sap of dilapidated creation;

Waxing and waning in the sable constellations of laced oasis;

Craning the necks of shipwrecked ecstasy

Among the bay of everglades under rays

Himalayans shaped in the clay clouds like wallflowers’ ballads

Crowding the room with illusions

Illuminated in lamps of pomegranate

Anchored in the lacquer of black crackling against the mirror of murals

Empyrean with the graffitied evening peeling

Like a helix as it spindles like an open window

Among the crimson linden trees as they weave their ribbons of obsidian leaves;

Their branches like lanterns through the breeze

Like a phoenix kneading the clay of a summer’s grey

In the rays of this defibrillating maze;

Jade flickering pixilated asphyxiation as the cloud are unravelling

Into melancholy hallways ballooning in Jupiter;

Leaving blossoming blotches of phosphorus nocturne

In our footprints on the surface of the sun

With our bouquets of mosaics in the chalk of clockwork

Mockingbirds churning the oceans of eternity into mirror; effigy;

Nectar’s glare mechanisms sketched incandescent outstretching prayer;

The frescoed bark of a poplar’s arch;

Cartwheeling through the mountains’ speleothems

Disembarking from the cartilage foraged from my bones like a trail home;

Baptized in the spine of a cauterizing horizon;

Miles like ivory wyverns diving within the kaleidoscopes’ gin

Among the candied dandelion like stranded candles

Dangling in a lavender avalanche

Dancing in the wind of scimitars in the pollen stamens of andromeda

In every revolving follicle like a meteor’s corridors

Of phantasmagorical eidolons rolling through chlorophyll forests

Ouroboros in an apple core’s torrent like a floral tornado of curtailing halos

(Like a mandala wandering through the cosmos; like flowing jade of [opal/gold] bouquets)

(Every flaw’s open jaws; molotovs of autumn bottomless; sprouting velvet yelling parhelion)

(Swelling borealis; malachite ichor; white lightning)

(Crescents of lactescent bethels where gesture turns empty into sunset/tempest)

(Rowing through the oars of magnolias)

(Pulling with [the/poems] pandemonium)

(Crocheted in the mosaics of pale azaleas)

(Crawling through harbours of arboretums; setting waves upon the hazelnuts)

(Candelabra’s polymerization like berries of alstroemerias)

(Licking the mithril eclipse; in its precipice of shapeshifting hieroglyphics)

(In the viscus abyss of lithium)

(All that I am; wrapped between the lapis cactus of your hands)

(Drinking in the blue moon with a new bloom)

(Junipers looming overlooking the coves and the hazy bays)

(Dressed in the zephyrs’ [gaze/vase] of a hundred miles’ [away/maze])



Elevator Shaft


Pythagorean magazines

Like feathery bruschetta

Swept in ebbing florescent crescents

The Armageddon of seventy Serengeti’s

Redder than tenebrous ghosts

On ambrosia the soma of clovers’ eidolon

Knife’s edge of fletching florets

Wedding confetti in ebony

Like the thread of a nebula

Spun into umbrage as the sun swims hidden dimly

Under wings of stygian

In whirling sterling

Forged from the corridors

Of a saplings apple core;

Burrowing into unfurling

The curls of a forests’ contortionist;

Formed from the amorphous chords of a meteor;

Born from the butterflies

That smatter with caterpillars

Vermilion sigils in the billowing buildings

Of cylindrical pillowing

Shedding crevices of the leather September

In its edifice like gelatinous shrapnel

In a map of lapis daffodils

As shrill as the silver guillotines

Like banged chandeliers of empyrean mirrors

In the gears of veneers peeling back

The afterimage castaway in vats of jade

Capsized in the geysers of lilacs

Shackled by astral casting call

Revolving in mahogany

In the stars of armada andromeda

Bobbing in the waves of suede shades

Of ever-grey paved into the lassoed pastures

Wrapped in lashing alabaster

Crafted from the cracking Damascus

Of these walls in the stalls of each

Frolicking follicles in foliage of primordial magnolias

Of fragrant vagabond in the cloves of iota

Like mulberry parasols

Swelling with melancholy pelicans

In the lanterns of amber

Swam in amethyst

Licking the crystalline moon dry of lilac

Rising in the tides of binary ivory;

Iceberg metallurgy

Surging against the wake of civilizations

Breaking the tide all ocean wide

Lichen diving kaleidoscopes

Alive with the thread of spiderweb

Stitching lithium into the wake

Of syncopated polymerization

Wasteland that bangle mangled by a cyclops’ eye;

Orb of light against the riverbanks of darkness;

Shimmering forest

Within the shadows on their hallowed battleground

Howling malleable hours into the void

Embroidering by coils that oil paintings

And frescos of fresh flowers

Clammering over tenebrous roses

In an ocean or a sea of Valkyries like fallen leaves;

Weaved with the leaden ribbons of Armageddon’s stencilled magenta

In the sentences that end

In heaven’s penitentiary;

Raising the flag of an azalea

Over the bright skies and horizons

While lichens fight with the crows in October;

Rowing through the bullet moon;

Shooting through the eye of vagabond midnight

And leaving a hole in the vertical swerving of eternity

Embracing the laced lies

Of a wyvern violet rising like the sun;

Rising from the rungs of a rusty ferris wheel;

Peeling away the flowers of jade;

The towers of suede that sway through evergreens;

Through the reeds of serpentine dreamers;

Weeds of onomatopoeia

Kneading the cedars like a demon

In the evening screaming terpsichorean

Between the seams of a sentence of twine unwinding itself; (from the [ends/edge] of a page)

From the gorge of tomorrow’s torrent of corridors gourds of phantasmagoria oars mooring torn

Bays of raven wings; ink-stained matrixes in the latent polymerization untamed and nameless

To the sound of (laughter) jasper bells like a shell of yellow cellos

Melding parhelion shrouded balaclavas

Of yellow velvets that umbrella

Blooming ludicrous with the omniscient nucleus

Of fuchsia’s whispers lucid Icarus

Loose with the limitless glyphs of bougainvillea’s lips

Making bruschetta of the setting sun

In brushstrokes of opal;

Candles like mandolin split at the tip of rippling wicker;

Terracotta candelabra auburn astronomers swathed in the collage of mandala

My dreams wash up on a beach laden with stars

But I am

Still lost in the mud of my mind

Caked in the sands of amaranth


To clean the flowers from off my skin

As they bloom into a summer night; spiteful; these unravelling dahlias towering over me

Before the morning and (the/its) sea;

(Gravelly talisman like towels creased with the fleecy cashmere of a deteriorating maple leaf)

(In the shapeless cape of its acreage masoned in the tapering dilapidation of plastered aspers)

(Tapestries of blasphemous taffeta unwrapping chapters from the chapels of rapture)

(Silver villages that pilgrim the slivers of obsidian)

In the floral ornery corneas of distort homage to the bottomless candelabra

Gobbling up the sun and spitting out daisies






Etching crescents with the zephyrs of sepulchres crepuscular

Lactescent evanescence sequestered in restless effigies squiggly rigidity

Skies of ivory in the ebony revelation

In the hillsides of rhinestone exodus

White soma

Black lotus

Crawling across a white plain of void

As numerous as the stars fallen out of a derelict sky

The words speak for themselves; ask them, know them;

Before you contemplate what you do not yet know

Know them; before they contemplate what you do not know

For we are all but tuned instruments

In the black skied white noise of one symphony

For we are all conducting tongues

Translating sign language from the hand of God

As numerous and unknowing as anyone

Like many things born to the abyss cast down the mountains

Into the valleys below

The clockwork of broken mechanisms

Flexing in dodecahedrons

Forgotten by eyes that cannot see beauty

As any more than a fractal

A jagged tooth of jade

Or a Rorschach; shackled freedom

Next to the stiff brilliance

Of an unwritten page

The cliff one line inclining;

Or dropping down upon;

Leading to another, another

Falling through the paragraphs

Without an oar to dip into the phosphorescent kaleidoscope

Like the black tempest of a pen

The soup of honeyed words

Like spores from orifices of psalms like origami;

Eyelashes bent out of proportion

Unhinging the pupil like a door from the concrete wall

To the heavens blacker than onyx;

Brighter than day

As if there was anything as bright

As a shadow at dawn

As if there were anything as pitch

As a thunderclap wrapping itself billowing terpsichorean fabric of cloaked figures in storm;

Pressing deeper, pushing onwards

Like fingertips into your ears

Pulling back the tendrils of a tempest

Without the sound of a heartbeat to reel in oblivion

And walk past the shadow of a doubt

Into enlightened (certainty;)

Truth (is our only falsehood;)

But not knowing better than to walk

Between the shaft of a trail without a direction,

Moving forward motionless;

That will always lead you farther

(Down into the depths) of your answer

The road into heaven is not easy

Not as easy as the fall

Twisting and turns like a knife between ribs

Spindling the finest silk

From the alphabet of nothing;

Meaning shrouded in mystery;

Meaninglessness, a legacy, naked as the eyes

Impregnable barriers

Watching the hawks and the mockingbirds

Holding the edge of ones mind like a spear;

Sharped to the point of view like razors

Against the crevasses of edifice

Wrapped in alabaster

Crumbling to hide the crack of dawn

Working its way through the rockface

Like a memory, bulbous baubles of bubbles surfacing

Yawning into auburn andromeda

Behind the bonds of constellations

The columns of books where

One word would stand alone

And declare itself Nothing

To mean nothing

To be nothing

And so

Was unknown

Even to themself

For it was from the shadows

That came the light

Like a blind reverend; arms branched out into bending clemency

Striking the match


And again

And again

Hammer against vorpal sword

Hoping that the dusty scarf of smoke

Among the firmament

The fruit of flame and decay licking at the dusk

Would answer him

From the patchwork of his lungs

Heaving phoenixes

From the metallurgy of two

Intwined and twisted abstract uncertainties;

Colliding into one being

(Timelessness ageing in a moment)

Born from the form of nothing;

The opposite of self;

Empty fulfillment deafeningly endless

As the shells of words that could not contain themselves

(Spat the rays of neon rippling lithium)

(Zephyr’s evanescence churning firmaments; ferns of swerving swivelling stygian rivulets)

(Winding in dandelion hyacinth imprinted in rinsing glyphs of photosynthesis)

(From threading leather poinsettias in the ghetto’s metallurgy; plumerias barricade)

Within their tongues

Mothered by the sun

And fathered by the moon

Sitting dispassionately

Watching the last act unfold

Like a flower petal under the guidance of the stars

Burning into negligence

Wilting in the silt of quilted basilicas

In the resin of togetherness

(Every letter tethered to the edifice)

Momentously tempestuous in the depths of crepuscular

(Broaches of topaz glazed by dying stars)

Crows rowing along the serpent of rapid rivers undeliverable

The scimitars of schizophrenic frenzy

Bending in the assemblage of memories

Severing appendages with the shrapnel of a daffodil

In the taffeta of tapestries

Grafted from the roots of being

From the floor to the ceiling

Drums the core come unreeling

The spindle of cylindrical abyssal windows

Through the looming exuberance

Fusion in unity the untied horizon

Bloom of weaves dressed in the bethels of incandescent leaves

One to wrestle with the trees

Malfeasant as the breeze

In the gesture of a dream

Meant to question all we’ve seen

From the vessel, of a being

(Take the castle for the queen)

Mortar, pestle, every seam

Every decibel unsheathed

From the crescent in the deep

Infinitesimally creep

The celestials’ belief

(The/where) deception is complete

(In the tussle of a leaf)

(Flustered ruptures from beneath)

(And above in sunbird peek)

(When the ravens come to reap)

(Are we slaves then? Are we sheep?)

(Betrayed by walking, cotton, fleece)

(Awakened in the sacred sleep)

(Forsaken, just to be?)

(Shaken, from the peak)

(Breaking piece by piece)

(Taking acres from the weak)



The Sun Shines



Wars rage

Castles fall

Clocks tick

People break

I merely stitch them back together;

(Picking up the pieces of glass)

(The shards of cavernous hearts like caves hollowed out by morning rain; rushing water)

And sketch their beauty; (pull their strings)

The hands of the clock are not those of painters;

The artist Time; does not care for her own work

Colourless brushstrokes fading into echoes;

Will draw the line;

And we will stumble down its narrow road;

Grasping the seconds in a way we never could;

Pulses malting ulcers electroconvulsive as dilapidated rapids; alabaster ecclesiastical glasswork

Curving down the stream of consciousness

And back into the rivers beneath;

Channels and ear canals beating in the veins of arcanum; chapels wrapping jasper Rorschach;

Collapsing into the attics of labyrinths, blimps of photosynthesis; incubating polymerization

Snaking through the acres of Claymation breaking against the tide of divides

Groves of pandemonium frozen in ambrosial swim

Pulling back the curtain from the murky waters of bottomless mandalas candelabra scarlet

Auburn dissolving in the pollen of stamens

Time passes; current immemorial, infinite, infinitesimal, and wasted,

Coming back again, collapsing in on itself

Only to stretch back into shape,

Warped amorphous being, mosaic of Rorschach,

Gelatinous form, molded into figure

(You can lose a lot when you believe in nothing but the passing of the sun; the black page)

(The white void where words stick together in the paste of pastures cast like jasper molasse)

(We both break the silence)

(The two are not so different, eh? Amalgamated together)

(The leatherback fractals like lactescent effigies under December’s ebony)

Wars rage

Castles fall

Clocks tick

People break

And I merely stitch words tightly together to the breaking point; exfoliating

Coming free like ripped patchwork

The ragged flag of fabric and flesh

Like a hundred butterflies scattered to the dry wind of grasslands

Wars rage

Castles fall

Clocks tick

People break

I could care less; I merely wait in line

Unwinding in the ravelled staccato

Wrapped in dilapidation

Tragedy is no different from realism;

It is simply the end to every play, each act before, an appetizer

An encore, in death

Wars rage

Castles fall

Clocks tick

People break

The sun shines

It peels the skin from the walls of my heart

It rusts the flowers into dust, and decadence

And people will neither care, nor remember

The beauty they were born from

Faded and lost

Lest they forget the purpose engraved in our ancestors 

I merely know that I will never know (them)

Wars rage

Castles fall

Clocks tick

People break

I merely watch

This is fact; this is fiction

I have my own stake in this dance

This is everything meshed into one moment;

Crashing into a few words,

Condensed into one noise, crawling up from the hollow of my throat

The soundhole in a guitar

Curtailing into memory,

Emptiness, void, nothing,

Drowning in blackness like a white page

And I will not deny myself reason

Or insanity

Or silence

This is the way I prey

The hands of a clock;

Clasped together

The rhyme of the seconds musical, the tempo of the buddha, the flow of colour through the eye

Holding on to life, learning to let go

Wars die

Castles rot

Clocks stop

People break

Memories fade

Like polaroid’s

Trees stitched into the earth and the sky; jagged masses of teeth biting at the dust

The sun shines

Shivs of obsidian rivers cross paths like broken glass taffeta

I merely walk the path in the shade

As everything else burns

(Do not hate me)

(It is the sun that shines)

(Not [me/I])

(Do not hate me)

(And everything under the sun)


(Do not hate me)

(Withering into tomorrow)

(Becoming desert, the flesh peeling back; revealing bone)

(Do not hate me)

(Camouflaging itself with the web of heaven)

(Yes, the sun, shines)

(Do not hate me)

(I know no better)

[After all]

[The sun has told me in a million tongues, a hundred shades of colour]

[There is no love here]

[There is no means to live]

[I have nothing to give]

[Nothing you can take from me]

[But my shadow]

[Spiralling into every line I’ve ever written; like the feathery brush of a ballpoint pen]

[A hundred different sentences; meshed into one portrait]

[Etched in sandpaper; carved into cedarwood; scratching chalkboards]

[That sketches me with the frayed edge of each decadent word; not in God’s image]

[Not in beauty; not in symphony; a noisy soundless beating to the drum of my hollow existence]

[But that unsurmountable sun]

[That inevitable destiny]

[Imprinting everything]

[Painting over everything]

[Drowning everything]

[In its empty rays, its empty, clenched, hands; its cold fire, its endless churning burn]

[Yes; even as my world goes dark]

[Even as the blind learn to see colours]

[Even as the heavens fall from grace; and become shapeless as the stars]

[As the shadows stretch their necks over the bloody horizon]

[As the still frame of a picture]

[Becomes nothing more than memory]

[A dream unrealized; nostalgic, worthless]

[There is certainty]

[There is life; burning in the sands of a carnival; crescent above creased in yellow balcony]

[The sun shines]

[And I merely remember its shades]

<[How (salvation/beauty/it) blinded me so]>

<[How I still see]>

{Over these pathways glazed;}

{Backwards phrase, patchwork maze}

{Sun shines}

{We live, to die}

{Unaware that we are any different}

{Awaiting something to come}

{Like an orb of hot coal}

{Falling with the lustrous beauty of amber, and the wrath of a thousand forest fires}

{Burning the currents of eternity}

<{Suede marmalade shade jade in the aegis’s formation;}>

<{In the veil of a maelstrom a halo like a railroad of tornadoes}>

<{Like bronze and onyx bonding columns in the auburn mitochondrial andromeda}>

{Tributaries barricade the ferns reaching out for mercy; captive to the grounds we walk}

{Clueless, and finite; time tramples on everything}

{Fires burn black}

<[(Wars (rage/die)]>

<[(Castles (fall/rot)]>

<[(Sun shines)]>






Curving flurries connecting dots of juggernaut clockwork;

Hiking bolts of lightning;

Pisces ichor ripening

The majestic precipice the hawks and falcons

Delving in velvety alcoves of green terpsichorean

Under the scythes and sickles of lunar lithium

Broken and crumbling down

The crumbs all thundering;

Fumbling over the rugged jugular of a sigil’s river silver bouganvilleas

Trilling basilicas of umbilical slithering blithering

Ventriloquists stricken with the whisper

Of the many crystalline sycamore rippling discourse

In morse code foreboding

In comatose kaleidoscopes

Vorpal as the incorporeal moon

Looming above like a deadman’s dove;

Flocks along the docks of apocrypha

Washed in the chalky locks of softening offerings

To docile green in wicker (walking/rocking) chairs of carrion alstroemerias;

Wisterias in the oceans of posies

Exfoliating lonely under the viscus eclipse

Whistling nymphs in infinite’s footprints

Inching forwards coral forests’ (oracles);

Phantasmagorical horcrux lustre rusted reluctant supple

Fluctuations glacial face full,

I saw you running, but couldn’t catch up,

Could not reach you, how time flies above,

With wings of ivory, and eyes of ice;

Clinging to life in the microseconds

Beckoning resurrectionists within a two-handed fist everything we miss;

Glistening squiggly lucidity liquid Euclidean;

Thunderstruck, we come amuck;

(Honeysuckle) rustling before the storm;

Rustling, to be reborn;

Like the magenta entropy of every unentered century;

To tumbleweed like centipedes;

While heaven holds its entrails derailed from the veil of their sailboats;

Above, an ancient freight-train, or a dove;

While the varicose crows fly in groves of ambrosia;

Amber sunlight biting deep; apples, Rorschach reaped;

As the alabaster castles creep;

Daffodils Damascus in a dilapidated heap;

Walking the tallest high-rises and the mountains;

As the hours weep; come to finally leap;

Like the twirling sterling of its leaf;

Down into the depths all etched in deep;

Somewhere beyond the cairn;

The creek, the echoes reckless obsolete,

Fawning comets in the sleet;

In the commerce and the wheat;

Obelisks of concrete sheep;

In the bulbous baubles of (wobbling) auburn belief;

The only thing we’ve yet to leave;

As August finally breathes;

In mausoleums of debris; terracotta, mahogany;

The reefs of reeds; lacing constellations’ sleeves,

Water andromeda along the coastal flora fauna and trees;

Veiled halos, clouds of fleece; rusty nails;

Clustered wreaths; wrapped in the gauze of Mississauga;

Like laundered cloth of mitochondrial balaclavas

In the kilometres of polymers yawning discombobulated;

Fraudulently calming nature(‘s acres of maple trees);

The bethel etching frescos echoes on,

And that has brought me to my knees;

Fallen column sprawling auburn among the leaves;

Awaiting autumn in its peace;

Among the garnered stamens’ honeyed fleece,

Among gardens the bottom and the peak;

In the brink of their infinite symphony;

Fate unravelling the gavel of its javelins;

Judging the sun in its shallow sky of malleable tides;

Sntencing the passing of time within its rhinestone rhyme;

Its dying ember, in November;

Dismembering the ebony cemeteries

Barreling onwards into dawn

These fairies carry on

Marionettes etched in the crepuscular celestials

Stitched into the night sky

Golden paulownia; Palladian maelstrom;

In the gowns of alleyways worn by valleys’ Valkyrie balconies that breathe with cyan ivory

Leaving sun where it lies

(Under the shapeshifting eclipse in its chrysalis of omniscient linden driftwood)

(Receding into the evening)

(Under a bed of star-strung roses; comatose rouge in soma’s ghost)

(Riding into a skyline of hyacinth limping to the brink of an infinite symphony)

(Peeling back the skin of equilibrium)

(To taste ephemeral oasis)

(If but for another moment[‘s]; peace)

(As the emerald currents crease)

(As the rumpled covers and sheets)

(In the rugged colour of the leaf; cathedrals of terpsichorean dodecahedrons [beneath])

(Like phoenixes between the reeds of arboretum’s eager cedars bleeding tears of jade)

(For the enclave of reconciliation)

(Patiently awaiting in the nature of oasis)

Faceless wraiths of yesterday, under the immortal orb of sorrowful morn torn pages Himalayan

(Looking out upon the bay like an endless field; grey)



Bright Shadow




(The denim gauze drawn in candelabra anaconda assemblage)

(Shadow unravelling embroidered foliage)

(From the twine of rivers along the pavilions of amaryllis)

(A billion billowing linden trees seethe;)

(Trilling willow’s basilica)

(Rivers swirl like ribbons swivelling [cerulean] in the messy [viridian] hair of Gaia)

(Sunsetting longevity in malevolent ebony)

(A contorting fortress of endorphins)

(Each flustering muscles’ percussion constructing honeysuckle)

(Rustling fluctuations the concussion of musculature)

(Upon each constellation onyx)

(Faded in the heyday of sands and clay)

(Baiting the invitation of civilizations matrix)

(In the séance aeons)

(Going up the anaconda of a gondola up into the nebulous heavens; their referendum)

(Etching crescents in polyester)

(Wrestling with the Nephilim)

(In the pestilential venture of fate)

(Meshing textures of bluebirds)

(Blurred in the serpentine winding of rivers of photosynthesis)

(Mixing inhibitions with the liquors of Nyx and the flicker of Icarus)

(Whispering polycrystalline in the distant eclipse)

(Like a lit wicker)

(Viscus blisters of a nickel flipped)

(In the whistling precipitation)

(Rasping from the jasper of its alabaster brass dilapidation)

(Engrained in nature’s basin wasteland)

(Of animals’ candles branded with the ambient)

(Entangled in the bangles of star-spangled)

(Rambling amethyst in the pianos like a labyrinth)

(Symphonies of infinity)

(Juxtaposition in the drifting picturesque lithium)

(Rippling past the shack of a Rorschach)

(Along the fields of peeling helixes)

(In the brink of pink syncopating)

(Lacing and carved; cinnabar)

(Somewhere between the walls of my heart; bulging hallways glazed in halos)

(Cracks of light forming in the rockface of my shadow)

(Pixies drifting Ifrit cliffs meticulously meshing with the breathlessly etched dress of an edifice)

(Questions like bethels that decibel the ground in a carousel of sound)

(As the cowl of hours shrouding balaclavas in the attic of an avenue; blue as lucid fuchsia)

(I ruminate with the glaciers in their aether lace of polymerization)






A White Dove On A Black Lake



A white dove on a crystal lake;

Deeper than the darkest of greys;

Blackening blankets of tapestries’

Taffeta along the rapids of alabaster

Tsunamis of laundry wandering andromeda

Tibetan monks at the summit;

Drawn by (autumn’s pollen breath)

Candelabra(‘s ominous onyx depth;)

(Its carnivalesque wreckage stretching)

(Peering iridescent meshing with a phosphorescent crescent like vessels’ lactescent sepulchres)

(From the destiny of effigies)

(Treading heaven from the meadows of ebony;)

(Across the [gelatinous] silver screen)

(Of a docile apostle’s dream;)

(Polymers rollicking in the obelisks’ debris,)

(Like a comet through the seams;)

In its cadence ravens’

(Lakes wading in suede laid in fading lanterns’ banners)

(Lacing hallucinations tracing craggy labyrinths in the chasms of Lazarus)

(Raking oasis in polymerization)

(Like shapeshifting hieroglyphics)

(In the omniscient glyphs of superstition lithium rippling precipitation)

(Gaping maples Himalayans’ pagan)

Liberation (transfigured figures of transmogrified briars)

(In the hives of lilacs [butterflies, wyvern])

(Unwinding the spines of their stems)

(Shedding Armageddon)

(Like lightning spiting the setting sun with their thunder,)

(Come undone in the umbrage of a million shadows)

(Stitched into liquid ricocheting)

(Through the juvenile blue moon like luminous exuberance)

(Perfume of the ludicrous cumulus)

(Curtailing into azaleas lazily gazing into lackadaisical dilapidation)

(Shapeless matrixes lakes of aether twist in juxtaposition)

(Glistening with the nickel bristles of a black brush)

(Flustering in the erupting percussion)

(Like satin glassworks pastels of asphodel)

(Ashore and moored in expurgatorius corneas;)

(Floral and territorial like the coral bands of a thousand coloured hands)

(That smother the lands in the Bronx)

(And ankh of bronze sun’s bulbous Hecatoncheires)

[Rearing their ugly heads, standing on the edge of the horizon; blinded by diamonds]

[Like auburn constellations in a sea of evening helix colosseums]

[Fields like murals of the incoherent ethereal veneers curving serpentine]

(In august zephyrs’ monarch in the monasteries of wisterias)

([Buddha’s of sigil’s bougainvillea] glaring into the strumming summer sun)

(To come undone like an iron drum’s clutter of a mother-tongue)

(Denim in the setting-sun)

[I am a candle]

[In the dark side of the moon]

[Burning out]


[Lost to the fires]

[That haven't yet been quenched]


“When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

And they are; my colour, my void; drowning the world in blackness; cold, silent, and distant

For that is all they know

And love knows no different; knows nothing; not anything at all, but blindness; to the heavens

Trying to be all encompassing; stretched thin like a drumskin

Hollow to the noises it produces

Drowning in echoes of echoes; reverberating in chaos; wind licking the dry grass

Whistling to the hollow moon

Like we did once

When we were still innocent; ignorant



I still remember

What we could have been

Everything I left in the dust; to the sun’s shadow

Pulling at my shirt; [asking/begging] me to stop moving forward

Waking up from your nightmare; in a cold sweat; like rosary beads

Love is just an alabaster sheet to cover the ugly mosaic; the fresh flesh; a colourful corpse

Shrouded in uncertainty; sown into figure; into being; the celestial body falling

Failing and flickering like a neon light

We’ve faded into obsolete tracks across the mud washed plains

Ripped in half by the molasses of the sun

Naked except for the fresco of a hospital gown; torn like the frayed edge of a paperback’s ridge

Heaved down into the embrace of the earth; molded buildings housing fireflies

Our last lungs trumpet to the constellations like sparks in the smoke of our dreams

Amalgamating into the tapestries of the trees; and the gelatinous breeze

The kaleidoscope of time winding itself around the carcass of love

The stygian leaves

And the roots that weave us into their varicose crochet

Below; Folding into the dirt; g[r]asping

The intrinsic pull; to and fro; nowhere left to go; dreams eaten by stars; carved, flowering

Do not hate me for it

We knew no better

Better to never know; [this/our] love

Never man enough to ask the grapevine

For forgiveness


And I blame you for it

Almost as I blame myself

Leaving nothing behind; I follow the stretch, into sunlight

The stars, they loved me once

Now they mock me

My words caught in the river of everything that’s already passed; stripped of their biting mouths

Like the mockingbirds; echoing my phrases into placidity, emotion, paling,

Unveiled by the clouds

(Gouging valleys in malachite metallic [gallows/shadows] of shallow aurora borealis)

Overflowing docks, and the dead lakes at an orphaned edge

Mirrors of sterling swirling within the curl of dead forests

Unhinged doors in unkempt fields

I walk through their passage

The voyage

Between the tides

As if walking on water would ever (help/let) me drown

As if watching the skies

I too would soar; like meteors, through the cratered moon

As if the symphony was but one cord

Intertwined into one note; (scrawled/scratched) meticulously

The only sound we ever heard; gouache blasphemy; lapis tapestries in an acrylic bougainvillaea

Repeating into the static of our worthless lives churned into black and white

Rerecording itself

In the studio of our elephant ears

The unending of reason washing against the shores of our islands;

Wrestling soundwaves; in baited breath

The stream of consciousness; beckoning requiem to the dimly lit abyss of bristled hieroglyphics

Across the ear canals; the different channels static; currents electric

Crashing (alabaster waves on every weathered page;) upon each other like the sky on the earth

(Slithering rivers of snaking dilapidation in the polymerization of aether)

(A billion Iliad’s on avenues of Saturn’s moon)

The (lily vermillion) sun watching its offspring; proudly

As it lowers itself, into a bed of flowers

To sleep before the early cascade of morning; anew

Clouded only by the (bevelling ebony of the) ivory sky; rewiring

The mountains’ collage

And the passing of the tide; in and out, in and out

Gasping for breath

Drowning in love

Drawing; (bullet point)blank(s)


Lost On The Streets Leading Home


Threads of evergreens terpsichorean

Whittling swivelling ceiling of black into white bone

And it is beautiful;

Even though ringing empty;

Even if emotionless, heartless stone

Strung up like a scarecrow; to scare away the inner demons; while being inwardly void

Inwardly hollow; to the split ends of the earth; weaving stringless seasons

Yes; they are cold; and cynical, and beautiful

Even (though/if) I told you

They never loved us


They cannot see the explosion of colour in finite eyes

They cannot understand the depths in the dead oceans of one’s soul

They can not accept the brevity of the endless chase for salvation; always out of reach

Laughing at greatness; unamused

They do not care;

They know no love; brotherhood

But they are beautiful;

Beautiful enough to make a man weep

But my eyes are empty of any love, any promise for myself; for them or the people; simply poetry

I am an empty well; dry tears stain my walls of brick; mortar

People try to draw water from my basin;

I give them poems to wet their palates with

Tasting my colours like wildflowers withering on whiplashing brushstroke tongues

But there’s nothing within the light they paint me in;

I am merely another shade of grey slate

What if I told you

I have no love for them;

Their words; ring hollow;

Emotionless; heartless stone

Inwardly hollow; dead trees in a forest of dead trees; crawling the split ends of the earth

The shell of their bulbous lives ballooning into colour; gone; leaving behind, me

What if I told you

They never loved us


What if I told you; they are no different no better, than the stars?

That their light is a shadow passing

That I don’t want their love, anyways

What if I told you

I’ve walked the thousand crowded crosswalks of Toronto

I’ve climbed the deadly cliffs for the rush of adrenaline like a waterfall in my frayed veins

And felt trampled [on/over] till colourless

By them

The people, God

Indifferent; like them

I could not stand for the bright lights; so I retreated to the shadows

(But/And) yes; they were beautiful

In an ugly kind of way; in a hollow kind of way; I could watch them like ants on my driveway

But the ants, they are better

The ants are one

(What/Who) are people; but perfect pandemonium?

If they are beautiful; they are words crammed onto pages

Cluttered would be the best way to describe them; in their chaos; their mosaic of painted canvas

Prey to their own plague of emotion; this indiscriminate, immaculate shapelessness

Blinded by the phosphorus of their own eyes

In the cover of rain

Dripping through their iron frames

Each a perfect painting

More ugly than the stars; but I do not hate them for it; their honesty, in a dishonest crust

I do not hate them

How could I?

I was painted by hands just like theirs


By hands just like mine

Faces that mirror my words; sentences I haven’t yet written looking at me with their haunted eye

Let me tell you; they wrote me so I could write them; they painted me, opaque

Solid; in the form of their skeletons

And I am the flesh; the meat; cold insatiable hunger

Twisting the knife on the edge of the horizon; sharpening their tongues with practice

It is only fair that I tear them apart to build something better

They were mistaken; like them; unlike them I hate what I haven’t become

We never loved them anyways

I mere watch

As death and life carry on without me

I merely watch

I know no better

I fill my eyes with them

Otherwise; I’d be empty

We feel no terror in not loving; or being loved

Do not hate me for it

I know no different

So many abominations

That walk the streets at midnight; heartbroken

I would help them find their way home; these ants

But for some of them; home is a forgotten place; stepped on; crushed underfoot

Lost to the world like a piece of music that never made its way from mouth to crumpled paper

Left out in the sun

For a decade or two dozen

I like to think if I keep walking through labyrinthine memory

Eventually I’ll remember what it means to be human

Ramshackle, decaying; rejected by the sun and rusted by the rain

The capsule of a Ferris wheel; digging down into dirt

Watching as the stars and sun; loom over another malleable child

Who hasn’t yet felt the hardness of reality, madness, daydream

Like I; he will have to go out and kill himself

And from the pieces; remember how to (live/feel)

He’s drawing blood while you aren’t even in the picture

His [childhood/portrait] in the split frame of a second; already lost, unhinged from his cross

Upending invention; convulsing constellations ethereal chameleons reeling in the film

Murals of the Furies; clergies of purgatory born in metallurgy’s inferno

Dilapidated acres of daffodil’s chapels frilled with the villages of capillaries cerulean

Stretched out effigies etched in resurrection’s ecstasy ricocheting through the braid of bays

Sable railroads of gold

Something had to die to keep living

He knows this

He would shed his own skin

To become a butterfly

Not to be a cog in the machine that broke me; sickle smiled

Like so many of my fellow monsters

Not to be a flower; that never bloomed (ludicrously/efflorescent)

Not to be an abstract Rorschach among the thunderclap of dilapidation; bristles of precipitation

Shapelessness wrapping around the gallows in toweled ragged banners of colour covering cowls

Like a Valkyrie gazing down from alabaster balconies;

Welcoming Valhalla to mandala’s galleries

The plague of imagination

Running through his varicose veins; luminescent

He was born for this

Born to be a budding iris among skyscrapers; bicycling through the nitrogen of delightful wind

On the edge of Serengeti in the nebulous ebony serenity

Shedding tears like an iris

Bending back the petals of his grassroots out-branching bike

Knowing no better than to collect each droplet of dissonant water

Transmogrified through the fibres of every line’s kaleidoscope roping utopia

Maybe they’ll never loved him anyways;

His feathered confetti; his wings;

Musical instruments in a compelling melody;

Conducting lustrous gouache

Swathed in the cloth of clockwork phosphorus;

Swirling with the curling sterling of the forest’s corsets

Of mangled steps collapsing in the crashing aspens

Camouflaging mandalas in the mirages’ abomination;

Columns wallowing assemblage bottomless andromeda in the thralls of candelabra

Gaudy as the knotted obelisks of monoliths

Crystalline as the mithril rings like tattered flags around his stygian figure;

Obsidian flickering through the grooves of a new moon

Like the quill of filament quilting bougainvillea

Braided in bouquets of churning firmament;

Burning under ferns for an eternity;

Mantras of tarantulas in the fruit of fuchsia;

Ripening ichor like rivers of cerulean bougainvillea,

Daffodils, sap and molasses;

A vast gouache of blackberries in the lithium abyss;

Lactescent crescents that stretch from the arms of dawn

Into the accordion morning creeping through the shadows of lavender;

The dying lighthouse flickering in the distance like a fallen Icarus;

Wicker-men that bend and ebb with the flow of form

Contorted constellations mosaic crocheted in the braids of civilizations;

Scratching at the walls of hospital apostles with the dull end of a knife;

On edge, he forgot how to balance a long time ago;

Falling over his own steps up to the windswept precipice

Bethels in the congested effigies of resurrection’s breath;

Tenebrous kaleidoscopes that ride within the colour of a butterfly

In the bulbous floral corridors;

Oranger than the morning in sunrise;

Transmogrified by the briars of quiet; beaten into symphony

Volumes balms of choreography

Psalms of comets blossoming into gouache

Disemboweled in the gowns of hallelujah;

Wildflowers towering over supernova

Moon’s malting like sulphur and quartz in metamorphosis

Contorted as an orchid

Floral coral boreal on the shore forevermore;

Phantasmagorical oracles in the orange florin

Within the flail of an angel

Under the damp lamp’s amphitheater

Terpsichorean helix rejoicing into turquoise

Void in the buoyant voicelessness 

Pages of aegis mosaic his echo the scrawled tongues with the lips of scripture

Forming forgotten words in the oven; the metallurgy of his mouth

But we don’t weep

We don’t have the husk to shed our tears;

We are the husk; the empty;

The hollow men yearning to fill ourselves with the hearts of others

Still living

(But) I don’t weep

(I) Don’t love

Don’t dye from the mosaic of a broken heart; an art piece on display in all its parts;