Your graphic proxy

Baby jesus in a ditch

the tiny arms hurt
seeing that, infant
civilization that
seeded, cashed out
between the rest
stops eighty sixed
full-of-piss peanut
butter jars adjacent
his tiny dick, white
glow in the culvert
your face is slapped
too clean to grift
just a comic waste

Temporary nature of art

years later they see the light
but only the largest quasars

one wrist so soft it lasts a life
quiet as the cattails where a

baby can float, be found, not,
become king or food for lions

lose touch with human bodies
that belong to who you know

abut and cooperate in pods of
nobodies, also talking into air

race of the elders, some ugly
these are my new spirits now?


by Ken
Wigwam #3
Webelos Wolves Weekend
Chukkachank

Methane

it burns to speak or to be silent so speech is not the fulcrum but rather itself the burning. the burning is the enemy and the enemy must be burned. burn their speech their silence while watching silently.

watch them secretly, whispering their frailties; they will fail. Fail them openly as a sign that a limit has been breached, a singularity. H/she whose issue burns need not be burned if flammable but not fire.


Illyn
"I'm short for Illinois."

War is taught

my communication is fraught

and bare naked of tv or drugs

this night wanking breathless

unto some cruel Jerusalem...

but back to you and pen me:

swarms of wasps couldn't be

more attentive to utterances

if they reeked of fresh muds;

through battle, war is taught


by Missy
"I'm big now."

cathexas

what if you don't want everything to connect
you just want each contraption to work right

what happens as they age is consciousness is
an awareness that vision happens inside your

body, not out there; or that there's little to no
layer between out and in, and what you can

see includes throbs of blood bending sight
copied and pasted optical memories fading

it's a world of ghost images and representa-
tions of solid matter taking on the machin-

ery and personality of perception, turning
the self into a strange otherness of objects
 


by Ken
"I'm on medical marijuana."

furnace vents

furnace vents clicking
is it degradation or ex-
ercise, popping in and
out? galvanized steel
or aluminum, and can
it not quietly put heat?

Ken

Had it tough/ made it tough

relative to your culture
you may have had it
but you also made it
tough. that's why they
are after your hide, not
so much now for labor.

if everybody's tough it
means you'll have it
make it tough together,
on a ladder, as brothers
in survival, all striving
to get above the other.

when they make it
tough, they teach you
how to make it rough.
you make it tough but
then you know how to
be rough on others.


Reptily

left, right

corron

Clown

i get all sentimental for hard days
when the battle was out there but
in me too, those fierce hot interludes

can boxer and ring recede/ withdraw
simultaneously; have i just explicated
the next law of the universe and time

no it is only i who hesitates to resume
my sinking resolve is counterweight
to gloom when in company of the tired


by Ken

deer patches

Mansion

they're not offering protection
just striving to recuperate sun
from where we laid the mansion

they want their slain neighbors'
share although it's really yours:
the proverbial wild v. colonizers


by Donna

Slave of the Chama

It's only 10:00, but I'm so tired, but if I go to bed she'll probably attack me and if I sleep in the other bed I may toss and turn, and she'll take it personally and feel lonely during the night.

In theory we are a sexually active couple but the boundaries are difficult for me to negotiate sharing a queen bed. What if I really want to take a non-euphemistic nap?

And it's not as if I'm a rock; it is in fact distressing to have only 4-6 hours to sleep before the alarm and trying not to get started into a drawn-out love act.

My doc, admittedly swish, says it's a weekly necessity at least-- or you could be risking any number of invasive/ interventionist consequences. 

Yet I resist: that it be my discretion, my first strike option above the will of a frequent fertilizer, that the pleasure first is mine.


Tom
"Don't ask."

Repressed hallucination

Shag bark with poison ivy

Epilogia

So far dying has been a dark quiet encounter;
heartfelt words you'd think might end it all:

beacons for liveliness oaths battle the blood.
Coming down the other side blends epilogia,

bittersweet memory, stun of what's this now
crane back from down the tram and tree lines

Once a fear and then another's made you say
goodbye, you see it all as practice for 1 event

All the times you've trained gymnast like at
each meet and fight, sickness, fail, emptiness

Makes moot the eyes any sense but common
jaded less betrayed by lies than to move along

to actually pick up and gone the humiliation
worse than the bothering worried cohabitation

close-knit breed, take me into your free land
where wind blows the goatees of noble faces


Mike
"Please, Hoolie."

i'm trying something new

i'm trying something new
i'm telling them I believe
in their abilities but only

some maybe I should tell
them all I believe, that
you can tell the story right

you can use conventions
as a template for audiences
to understand effortlessly

is there no one in your life
with whom you speak in
this way, laying out your

argument and hammering
it home relentlessly hoping
to strike or gain or move?


Dr. Donna Thong
(relicensure imminent)

Gender as skillset

 

this alibidinous moment
to me seems androgynant

what astrological wisdom states
follows his or follows her fate


Tom
"Come back to me, Sylvia."