stagnanTVowels

fig.4.35) like this world, a road Start a list, enter hello next item and then a sentence. These are my words that I scream into the void. This is like the dust on my face and the sex that escapes the depth of both of my lungs. Call us not content but instead, burdened, ill slept and lacking in any pleasant words to hear.- This first from a, Feast of Thumbs

fig.8.32) mine is Columbia, she is become eclipsed It is beautiful and blindly so, This is what we all do, Even the them's and the they's, They too are tortured by their days in not so many or very different ways, As if from one long bride of eyes, It's this world's pain with no one else to know, Ancient lung's are filled to full from graceless air of old,  Making matters worse, This word's bird, it bursts with the fortune of muscle from the weight of her own stare, Bury myself, arms wide in the surf, Below her and heavy with foam, Radiant courtesy first, Growing from the grave ten times over, No one knows why, First is first, The world's a stage, it's old but still it's only third, It's altogether worse between Venus and Mars singing stonely songs of verse to sing, here it is, Or, curse curse curse, Da perfidy of quislings spin spin spiraling round and then it's ladder down into sub light gyre - BopSheBop Swimming in the Green Sublime, ...

fig.12.23) concept, conceit, corner roll the fifth.  Here's your wall text mutha fucka; the only good of you that comes is from me seeing that I'm better for not being you. You're a sanctimonious floss herder, a petulant rubber of old stumps, breather of noxious words, a stirrer of bile, born barn watcher, renowned ass holder, morbidly soft and slippery stacker of pimple piles, shoveler of deedless accomplishments, angel to none, reader of some, smeller of all things licked, ghastly and pampered callus grinder, a single malt in a two straw town, aged like beef and left to hang, doer of meaningless problems, a math dropper under a morbidly skinless peach, you're a mailer backer backwards biting boot bumper, you're the shiner of lickspittles lost spittoon, a mauler of pickles, too scared too crawling you're friendless and flawed, droop droop splash inside the autumnal box of gritty dawn, you're pantsless, a restless blank faced duck smack. You are the ch...

fig.32.081) Satellite's gone way up to Mars...  There's never enough liquor at the AA meetings and they let the coffee get cold and the diabetics are always nicking the cupcakes before she gets in. These are the things that are linked to our hearts, she knows that she isn't an ancient one. She's cold and tired almost always but her red hair still cares a lot. The trash is high outside in the wet spaces between the brick buildings on our street. It waits patiently, it's abiding time like a thick whittled marker that shows the deftness of our inhumanity to one another, one grain of sand at a time as we hope and wonder at it all. Someone was shot near there, a flower that's now passed in a puddle between the walls of two garages painted with thick milled butterflies and maybe balloons or hopeless rainbows. They bled out there like people who have been shot down too young to be anything will bleed soon enough in many more ubiquitous corners of our rug. "...