Notes

Bestrewing mild oaths with utmost honesty
not utter for milk light cheese poor cup
ornate ochre oat
iniquity forced at large
upon honorable vice
values within the aboriginal talls
members toward reach cracked prayer man
who imbrue blue the hammers of sound
determining westward while east broad
footed among the white blue clayed browns ranked and cranked
unreliable and banked sleep
the hymnist’s third choice
bearded with traps net abject blacks
in solemn resonance deep o satyr chorus forests

this is for the boys with disgusting teeth.
i the inflammation, sharded like you. where’s our strength?
those dreams will not stop
But those deep black songs, those cracked round shards
pinkfully foretaste porous picking and documentation of each little fucking hole.
They have pictures for after and rays for before
Once riches strike down o how great to afford
some sawed off white nubs built poised up
shiny and strong bite hard with no dither
no fear of crumbled shards sandy curves, no titter

Notes

my max out surpasses a sax out blaring strident candid man did
I just stand there swing toss offcuts fluff toast crust off into a huddle of dark butts
Felt full of the feed that they scramble peck dabble at the foreign sweet oat
Draped coat peak and grope just like my feathered dinner host

ten autographed onto dinner note signed without questions
light wander must bellow the chants of this purple red objection
need not feed on the trader who passes through each not counting his failures
at all ever stationed at the one he wishes to swing from
balance flawlessly long spear carriers!
balance in the center of the circular synth sounds and beast gowns
and feel both sides as if my north and south pierced your structural resonator
Spilling rings among things when your body shakes barbaric
how it is found so foreign chokes and convulse so pathetic
for your speech is a scribbled spirit ball of sorts
which fades and dims just like every light source.

(New) POUND

'New Pound'

Wow these pound O throstle songs
heard while set surround tower greens, make one
thrive for three pence
and a billowing robin
for ones own keepsake

speaking only in grunts
when condescension is brought
among lucent King and Queen
draped in gold purple crimson throne
spotted with horrid thrombus sores
poking holes in equality aloud

You will rank up among monarch, your power
now allowing rant without that vile dither, your power
exceeding the amount of crushed
little bird bones and wasted air sacks
unswelled, no longer flowing upward
or along in a curling mass, no longer
a ballooning cherry bulge.

Save me O Aristocratic grey-sayers
My song giver has died and now
the nature of my democrat is dead beside
the blooded bones and frail crimson clouds of feather
no longer flow upward or along in a curling mass
no longer a ballooning cherry bulge.