Walkin’ Tru

To beak-snaggled men, and to have
my pluck, need it too.

To con-strain tradition,
counterinsurgencies (conman-contingencies),
and tautological localities.

To phew in humilty, in the posted face
of before-birth physiognomy.

To play in terms,
flipping seasons on springs.

To weep of my own counsel:
unleapt and bedeviled.

To ask “What happened to this?”, while
respected bodily by divisible principia.

To appear within a group of blood-
fired platelets(or future-day miens)
via discursive Mathematics.

To prioritize a flush vapidity
after insinuating
a lasting, nightly,
tight-mouthed putsch.

To fear, agape,
height-rooted before
any dolorous aperture;
registered letter in hand.

To stigmatize searingly
a corporeal incarcerate;
hoisted guns of a vast,
balanced, august, centurion.

To slide on swaths of talcum-tasting muslin,
widths of super-luminescent liens on cocooned,
rounding, internalized slumber.

Chorus Rings

Storied so chosen, bold.
Gloried, arise—
on up
from the fold.

Arriving loose,
bereft and heartsick cold;

How still the chorus rings on?

Waltzing adrift,
as of, but a cloud.

Shunting images ill-fitting
a shroud.

Glazing stars sobbing,
on loud;

How still the chorus rings on?

Awaken, if sustained
by a demon.

Swelled kissed, desire,
lake dreamin’.

Cloaks eye, thralled dark, oh…
leave ‘em;

How stil the chorus rings on?

A year per diem
does lower count.

Sun-hit snows, flower west,
seedlings mount.

Portraits encrust, within
flame, healing fount;

how still the chorus rings on.

Huck & Abie

Duplicitously she says—

Sub-speciously she performs—

Utopia is never
hot.

Frankenly, aloud,
conceived
as fink,
bi-secting, necessary, contingent.

Stomach the fool country side—

expanse
this heavy
blue exchange
of bicornes,

forking over yeoman’s rank,

streaking hunter
under retreats,
regulating
Mississippi.

Blanket white pass:
perpetual and odiferous
construction’s
unceasing,
rawhide voluminous lease.