Desert Stormy

New formula pursuing with a purpose. First pursue “bones” underneath, however dense or hit up against rhyme, whatever angels, auditors or chars pop out — Let them come knocking, let them in as find. All will bare aspects cliche but pay no mind. Just accept it and see what you find. Do Char hunting with the Shakes. Then see what shimmers / reverbs / resonates.

Dell fell under plumb line. Nights mostly, looking for strays. What is the night. What is the night. Why shimmers and reverbs, many ways hates the day?

Something defiant that got so bored with childhoods emptiness of time living as — 

The Limbo, curse — what so bewillingly rooted around after itself for every extension, every incursion. 

Like a peach after its own pit. Hardness was a thirst. 

Is that the night. Blue and red, schemes arise in mean frenetic dreams then bust out beyond.

For what — lies beyond?

Without any other identifiable purpose otherwise. That is the night?

Sweetly foams divine truancy that with it carries a stick, heart felt with a warriors deep noble descent into battle, devout reprehension, crosses the chest — and a mysterious willingness to merge anywhere anytime and deterg —

On the mighty whats it. God of Night.

Sin with a spin of proverbial evil, as if beauty had to touch it – to know its plight blight pp (for pilgrims progress).

A loopy rope to a violently seductive treacherous scope — what song strain was that — eyes without a face —

Dell leaped and fell. Stove goes beep beep beep beep beep etc. 

Screaming at her.

Turn it off turn it all off. 

Oh what what was it all for — fucking transcendence?

Where tizzies and bawling sizzles, suddenly breaks out sweet and wild, everything becomes hunted, skin to neck, gestures so naughty so beautiful, diligent, haughty —

Shaking alive with its own death. Haught le Couer — 

This piece is not about being widely accessible. Bbb** gets to accessible through repetitions and reversals. Repeating words usually three times — just by itself perforces immediate reverb. 

Oh Cave of the Winds. The reverb.

Call call call. What to do about Dark and Stormy. Leave him off of list? Brings out the absolute best is worst — I know. 

Bunny. Call the caw to order — 

Where is what is —

The fond ferocious negatory rut, questions burned with sizes obscene, humor turned them perverted? 

Laughed at the screams.

Transgressive fiction, probablement. And yet — not completely —

What literature lingers — of tenacious notes, of crystal impotence. 

Something flickers into an unspecific smile. 

Naught Parker’s defiance is a murderous client, think of it as impossibilities meeting up with the possibility and let that become part of the process.

Who said that? Foster Wall Ace.

Shimmers reverbs. Where lingers tenacious notes of crystal impotence. Flickers into an unspecific smile.

Foster Wall Ace, a finger, a question — footnotes too? Naw caw caw caw…

**Checking in with Beckett.  

Add comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.