Broken clicks

like a bandit’s outrage on the morning of sentencing,
farm seething, roses bleeding,
the sun’s calm fusion bang frankens the stein;

the hero stain in the treasure rain
he eats the way and spends the fray
fight for the sky, rhythm head pie,
all across the license fry;

we rock the tune forever and let the grace go sideways;
saints forever, we wait for the trees;
lambs in the furnace, soldiers at the door, we throw our money out,
“crease those trousers, zodiac lime!”

they jumped into the mystery cauldron of saints of specific purpose,
recipe for glory streamin from the hard drive,
it involved water, and fire;
believe the flower of nothing that powers the rose petal forest;
he eats the onset and washes it down with glory.

the store is closed, the cats can’t see,
the plumber goes, the cats are free,
listen for the bell,
you’re drinking from my well,

and when they sign in at the circus,
that will be victory on the territory.

Goverment’s back, up the stack, gobbling up the track.

Broken clicks, that’s how you’ll find it,
close the curtain, get behind it.


I love your stuff. I always feel inspired after reading it.

guess it’s “consciousness-sheen-attraction”

Write the best moon you can find; turn on the lights, invite the spirits up like mushrooms; then take this book and toss it to the crystalline depths- tower in the graveyard, smother in the purpose, coming down the aisle doing listerine engineering, and back in front of the stack (something happened in the graveyard when the sun was going down);

in an auto-kingdom of miles and fries, the monkey takes a punch; soft breeze in a sawdust can, the monkey comes to life (fly in the mooncult, careful on the fries!); in the sam-rich idleness of it all, an idle branch gathers the birds; solid in the tide, growth beneath the waves, the liver-saint in the lightning box, papers on the thin, muscles on the fin, in the 7-mile-bed, the bits defy the head, the swing dance, murky on the shore, running for the door, doing the circle of the hourglass before it’s cycled on the road.

Forest in the food, network in the glue, fire breathing klippoth, green truck voodoo; stardust has a peace of mind, molten from the terror ride; air slept through the war and so missed the nomenclature of the candy with the nature of the beyond; we got the calm at the door and the nursery on the floor, and fish are jumping in the waters of the tiger forum - jumping for consciousness-sheen-attraction.

on the glory-fortune-stand captain-grand, the liquid display took the people away, runtime shorline in the rays; they’re surgin from the synthesis and sizzlin from the idleness, sad ghost stream in the fancy tonsil wilderness, host session candle, gravity glow bar, positive quest delightfulness;

in the rain of time we throw mercy on a dime, call it a fine and let it land on a mine; we move on signal and hurry like toads…

a cured patient wanders in the darkness, sparking vapor, cherry-blind, drivin the skein, totem force supreme, in the diamond sand of soft equilibrium; we’re part of a frozen star, encased in ice called oort, bitter molecule in the hollow sphere, and the seed time within the cloak multiplied the billy goat;

have-a-nice-day wizard, super clown in mercy town, schemer on the crepusculum, keepin the corn fed and walkin in time, with a blazin mexican heart, dyin on the freeway, commin round the turn, time to tune another rifle, frightful belly burn.

Around the cliffs of kindness the clouds pass gently;

a cured patient wanders in the darkness…in the diamond sand of soft equilibrium

I am not able to express how I interpret those phrases but it suffices to say that I am touched deeply.

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