Monday, June 8, 2015


It's in the shelves
you can keep
the ghosts

Get back in bed, Merv
She immediately
charged that age

It's not-very
scientific Nerf
You wanna talk science?

The last harvest for okra
through the gears

Get a basket

There are already
circles in the cops
Spielbergian cliffs
the drone on the lips
of my vision

O God swirled my trackpad
LA mission control in John Cena's arse
the Sun cooked his brain

the score is controlling this
the teeth
of McConaughey

So that was

We got Tom's scores back
You heard knives that forgot Willie Howell?
Someone nude everyday?
A nutseuse?

Every last one of 'em
You didn't expect
this dirt
You could pay for a live dream
You consist of about 1:30

Everyone still wears hats in the future
You'd hate Farmer Dad
Grandpa Seth
I don't like artforms

You're traveling through space here on land, too
It's a brutal sound
Just bass and creaking boards

His back burly
His back again, His back is turned
His coordinates

He is Orpheus with the harp of the maths
and it's this car-ride that's igniting her fervor
she's sleeping through

The light splits the light and it's spectral