Blog-nog zine, where my poet Tessa ram bows up the fiction, with shed the dead (and keep ’em fed) poetry, violin violent love grub, dragon wag on and the death mystery. Language is my fucking philosophy.

And the usual links.

Got any book recommendations?

Fragments from Short Stories: Body of Hate Surface of Love

Sides That Ride Asunder

The wonder I wonder
blowing me down 
go under go under 
surrender asunder 

Circle starving 
draft needle 
pilgrimage for beauty
as loot and pray
the precious and punter
idle hunter.

Heart and shames 
and aims aflame
small is all roll mole 
wonder blunder asunder thunder
raft and pole 
visions of holding water.

Standing up. No there she blows
I fail in, with Kafka
as travel agent
leaps and creeps 
of lemming and the dire mire
taken over by a hostile bug

For a key to freedom
absolute freedom
flame and clam 
sentimentally sacred ?
gothic and troll
sub essence of the damned
running tandem
with the program.

To write, to rhyme, to play up against language, be driven to plush the envy lope with unctions of secret sorrows,rushing loose like a flaming noose. Plaguey and divine.

Findings in Freewriting


550 responses to “Metafizzics as a fiction in the flesh sublime, to a stickiness of rhyme.”

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