Sunday, November 29, 2015

A Growing chorus of Critics Have Their Way

Birth defects in babies linked to camouflaGE.
ELK are fuckin huge.
Geese enter the Olympics for first time, eat bears.
Clocks contain petulance.
Disaster relief smells like barley.
Waist deep in theBig Muddy doesn't mean we don't love you.

Beethoven's Ninth in Plaid Pants

(Jazz requests an explanation)

Exhale impala like loose structure faster. Margaret Fuller drowned in the seize of life sound. Henry Thoreau looked for after all. Not a wave stopped, and resist resistance.

People pursued their sinking with life sounds in the swallowed ship. Islamist State in offing corporal fleeing planting, same as ever. People become pure as they radiate. Many ideas concerning nowhere plant seasons after reasons.

Our history lesson explains tearing sounds in paper, cloth, and simple flesh. The bass sings something something Tochter aus Elysium. Joy is a freeborn smelt. Ringo Starr sang along whilst even so.

The poem of the afterburner buzzes fixative in a test, trace the long tomorrow. Language can't escape the human condition. We have a hold on all our credit cards, Father of All.

Saddened by Downing

Extra words go to extra places. They fill that amazing day under the password. They exist in parcels delivered to winded trees that find rhythm. They aren't for friends exactly.

A miracle encloses all that smite found. We can name names but not people. People are a tribe aloof from, strainingly. That's the plain diagnostic added to gun control or open your fat mouth. Your fancy word for poetry becomes undone.

Spurious pleasure, the kind that takes minutes and takes them, this is the prevalent noun. We exclude because we are tempted. The rocks on the edge of the ocean know better. With elegant prose we spell clever. This is the last word before dinner. May we all crash in peace.