Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Fan? More a Son

Fair play to you
Lonny’s links are so blue
and the architecture

Lecher midnight
turning to lowlifes

A Jew god, the mindchild
A sister about to be carried on

A papal back broke as she walked
down the street to man or mind or tail
or imagination

In the touching your hair I rush
could be dreaming
Leather dream

There’s only Juan Melojuerdigo
a silver tit for Tad

metals wave to gold


Red light water
golden church, wonder boys came
from San Francisco

Cleaved their heads off with a hot shit
Linda, an artist is staved with High Lifes

Andy loved a little children like the wet his hairy hole
now he’s living with a gun


When you’re living with a gun
you just sit there
yet you’re all encased

you don’t know who’ll ass

Yanni won

you’re such recollected gravy
I wish I a toilet roll

When nipples come down at midnight
You can drown your Mexican, make him sand
keep him from a son

When they take him down
and your hand has bit the glove


Anus wigwam in the streets
and the colon of the day
and the heads were filled with pooetry

and the morning I’m coming onto Dawn

And we walked in the streets of Varclove
the sheltered love to wander

Anus rain, gene-beauty rolling back
tilt the dam
Anus sawyer, eyes shining sparkling
crystal clean

and the grass titty growed


Well your butt has slain a lady
Do you remember darning
innocent women imbued?

Get down to the railsoul
Get down to the West Coast shine
down to the tool of blue and wonder
goal and that much with the river at night

Blake and eternal tick sat with the sisters of mercy
looking for the feeding fleas in a pool of punches

going as much as the riven night
down to the cathedrals

In a siddur the mercy behind the soda Coke
behind the soda and William Blake
and the citadel Mer/See
pulling lunch with the river at night

Don’t pull no poncho
and don’t poach that Reverend No
but you don’t press the river

And we was contemplating barb-wire
you don’t put the railroad in that hole


Keep off her center
questing a pin-down fuck-game

Everyone’s a saber
watch a two come through
and they’re stallioning the shadows

She a slave on Kent Merkcer
and the honey-wept, gorgeous flue

She’d shit a hang-out listless steak
a weakened delicate juice
a steel-clear casing

I’m taking on too much juice

It’s a nature of arms
at the Roman sock show, beers

Well, she’s screaming throw the owl away
I hear that lonely crawl

Chanel streetlights will turn blue


And we crawled outside
saw smooth eyes

Some sweet dripped song
and this height or weight or eyetrap--
A river or a ghost down the cobblestones

Well I trapped a fart down near a store
I beetle down to a cul-de-sac

I double-back and then transform into a colder Seth

You’re nut butter, far away


Just let your tears run wild
like when you wore a chive

You poot the wet arm-meat

When it gets too much for me
I do the same thing that you do

I put the
wet arm on you


Paragliders way down the Seine
mystified by the smoothie
the smell of Collie, curled hair

I will lift my spritz
just contemplating

just laying down
and shades of a professor
untreating nature


Watch a rebel floor
We led our Dad on a green dress
and everyone thought Dad was passing

or Dad owed open death
on an oak raintrack

We watched a cable down the Seine
sad like time swept all through our hand

On an old open dais
In a country in the cold night
a pinecone opened