“Mirrabooks Crosshairs” (for Ashb*ry)

Of good conduct. Visit snap
snarl, and pry
primly at its principal focus,
as if curlylocks.

Snarl and pry
painstaking indignification flicflac
as if curlylocks,
waving croons.

Painstaking indignification, flicflac
of good conduct. Visit snap
waving croons--
primly at its principal focus.

Yay!

A cool flick for our gnarly days. And this. And (o boy!) this.

"Moral Thoughts"

I.

Ashblack promising Moloch
in Arcadia
wit mimics.
up to can't toOf/- tubular muon bulb
twilight trail, Xibalba calx
this bright sand
twilight trial mockingbird carn Karnak
ival sand bright this
my infamous visitors to talk

II.

Virgin light
blackbody was this institution of faith,
Fallujah from Abraxas
gunman sunfall up;
origin Taproban. Abolish
this spasmodic dust in a spin of blood goo
in my mind
counting by four fours air color is Maya,
sky is pallid cannibal.

III.

Thalassa pours within Agharta
gray wizard karma
gray radix
blackbody was this institution of faith.
Through morning's corona myth
i ply aloha
my kiln and lorn gift for all mankind:
Aradia diary bot
Pallid Mountain pain

IV.

Mask, maskful thunk, contrapuntal lair
is my will
and clarion of arbitrary sigil
swallows it up with a rank
fathom of abort.
Blackbody was this institution of faith
folly, wry
at its buzzardly agon
shard of protocol rough mask only.

V.

Mystic buck
organisms sows which can grow within us
laggard soul as food
clan of a tap, scarf Mount Qoph
cannot look outward. No wolf
lost sorrows, which want to always turn opal
and hobbit,
blackbody, was this institution. Of faith
allot to it dark mask a lunar.

VI.

Fanciful awl's nub,
a portrait of a woman
riding in a shiny black hot rod
through this kiln.
Follow ruby toad,
follow iron
into Iran shit
and Arbathiao slips a scarab
burning with wry Algorab.

VII.

Blackbody. Was this institution of faith
in Latin
lit? Swirling Isis
and our dying tarry as cargo
pyramid's torpid daimon
blackbody was this, institution of faith.

“Ahriman”

Prior-to-dawn fog (java
occultation) so

“Maintain Carnival” gandom runfight
crismon idnigo puslation (it’s basic)

Parlacy
of faltisanship--group a wants to stand (dark)

Crofit for ponstraint without, but that
; ad (Aradia)

Onslaught; fol-
(unkind light in dold cays) lows cold

Rocklop*dia Fak*bandica.

“Akpuon”

Turbom*ssianist gulls irk
abort solid imgrat, d*ath
as is; will
rat snood fib us stomp.
Agaric mull Iliad flop, Oscar rip
gray ikon. Bad obol go.


“Ialdabaoth”

High comma plains drift Dallas
Christmas in Fallujah black coral

Thishful winking or-
chid ambit bad control rush angst and no way

Loot lost back
it is tribal sign

"There is no next big thing." (Yo, bards!)

I long for old days past.

Still making dough as worms gnaw on you.

Trail*r trash Christmas.

"The downside of using humiliation against a man whose life revolves around his honor is that he is thereafter bound to hate you, and to someday take his revenge."

"Night Thoughts"

A civil crystal war orgasm
ink stomp of cold sound

Stomp from stop
i cast my shadow on hill and swift calcspar--

Flying lurch sharawadji
partisanship to stomp turn


"Shoon"

Affirm tulsing popaz click thick dirt
nothing from it wash

Start climb shah
gymnasium contrapuntal phobia

Also hymn His mutiny
and at lurch of first stars pun

Find did nothing wrong
down cold drug

Authority upon crystal invasion
raucous orphans and fun mountain gray

Dawn cold hit
who told truth didst thou ink acid Mars

Bush is Lord. (thanx Mich*ll* H.!)

It's
the end of the age... (via Vicki Rosenzweig)

“Gain”

storm utmost for troth
small runs starkly among moons astray
its afflatus rosily
frost strung crows
moon at this isthmus smurry, far flung slogan

"I am a king of that most mighty empire,
That's built o'er all the earth, upon kings' crowns;
And poverty's its name; whose every hut
Stands on a coronet, or star, or mitre,
The glorious corner-stones."

--B*ddo*s

Cars against songs.

Didn't catch it. (But look at all his forms!)

You can look up stuff in this Moby Dick. (via R*adyst*adybook dot com)

"The US is so hard up for troops that the Pentagon is deploying soldiers who have lost arms and legs in combat."

Flarf crit. Not from Pluto, but it could do.

"A robot, unable to walk, moves slowly around in a wheel chair. It seeks out humans to ask for money in exchange for a ‘machine’ poem. Its arm holds a moneybox, which it thrusts to the ‘client’ demanding a response. When a coin is deposited a poem is read out. A hardcopy is then made from a printer on its chest to complete and reinforce the economic transaction." --from Beyond the Beyond

Mushaira. (via Dumbfoundry)

"There have been societies whose bureaucrats were fine poets. There have been societies whose poets were fine bureaucrats." --Flow*rs That Glid*

Conclusion on Flarf.

"b()rth

this is a crivenning gutslep
how he scrivinns the dadchild myld
from

her. Thence to untrapolarising: cut
scalpooze from her heart, uncorrecauled. How

her was ever husband, his dread mean,
his orchestraighting
allings however

did done her
fallow now only subsumed (some)days to
count scabs – donates sacri-

ficials my daughter mantra fuckyou! dad go
control else some(body) else
how

from her any God cherved, scruntised
to a babbled
I don't say grace

Come, girl
let's counter-parry gypsy curls
chant fuckyou!s and from

him
take days, seed, reputation, growth,
it's okay to condemn, tomorrow'll
birth comparison. I

shall receive my looks
in you Fine Child Of My Hips his

was only a piddled tadpole smaller
thanna pinhead, loathe

now,
hush; blenkering a dusk prets
and gentics sivasilk, my eggs loti

no beg go I kneedown
positioning palms which
bathed you
you skin angel
you so unso-so pritty

pray
drusher hope's undeceptivity"

--AnnMarie Eldon

Ringol*vio.

A hit in Japan.

All of you still doubt?

A cool cartoon. (via Cahi*rs d* Cor*y) --Alas, avant is a flavor, not a faction or a program. (And not an algorithm, too.) Avant was what you did as an old sky was falling around you. What you do now, with skyfall and all flavors as sour, must grow of its own roots and lights; tomorrow, what is said about it might sound surprisingly wrong: as if you only had in mind to fail.

Davinci against a gang of baboons with crimson butts. Davinci says, “I will build a contraption that can carry us all to a ballot-counting land, I will paint a portrait of what this insanity has cost, I will think up a way to stand our unkind days, but I will not call it victory.”

On my victrola: Th* Cowsills In Conc*rt.

"Giddy Ingot"

Star cold languor, fictional music
and with contagious fang unfurl aurora

Fathoms turn to blood
thy ingot