Tuesday, November 27, 2012


c.lustered ,nec.k oi.l ,g.land to
.wel s.woll a ,mi.me p.ile . be
.aded :::f.og:::: my .l.int
,sh.roud can.cell.ation wh.ere I sw
.allowed tri.ed ,a bull.et para.g
raph ,mut.ed in. the he.alth in.s
urance ay yr los.t l.eg be.ckon
.s w.ell y.r fin.ger ,end.om.itos.
is .)stea.ming .d.rain a( c.up s
.hadow ,the .rip.pled for.k my
.egg’s los.t i.n .ch.oked it d.
own ,s.lept th.rashing o.n a
r.aft sw.irling ro.und a b.end
pas.t t.he mou.ntain str.ewn
wit.h t.rash

El lucro, luz del monte mierda.
- Prof. E. X. Cusado

olvido of the maggots

rusher clodt ah Club TV
chanted in the attic where
the basement floods the
ashy lake opens at your
door incomitante un
continente .swerve to
,war combiled ,the crashing
clouds beneath my desk
your streaming knees your
fabled suit of slice ba
loney Lip Smack Me !
in town the frantic mud
the snore inside your cake
it’s shore mind turns
and “waves” )what
tissue gashed with
slime reflection )yr
plunging loot sticky and
legless ,shimmering with
fruit flies ∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙∙((

...buzz cock sonata...
- Sex Pistols

olvido de Lara

lumpy ,his name forgot ,dan
dled ashes on’s pate while
the others prate their hidden
lot gated with a smoky
door his silence blears
against the walking world’s
hot mud his mirror his
fleshly worm clogged
those thrashing hoses on
his path bedecked with
stopsigns ,ladders ,c
loud giggling of that
secret glass that blood
passed outside what
oval time did start a
swarm of gnats bedecked
his skull a separate
head rotting off’s
offending throne

“His madness was...sought...”
-Lord Byron, Lara, 1814


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