a poem for today, 3 June 2012

a poem for today, 3 June 2012

[a letter sorted sonnet of sixteen sentences and its image]

We will add your distinctiveness to our own.

When I'm back I'll cry and have a sleep then.

Where is the tongue when the fingers write.

Can those poor teeth take so much kicking.

Maybe I found it way down here in the mud.

I will demonize it and it will multiply.

Art does not need us, and it never did.

My screen name has more fun than I do.

Our voices are warm and reassuring.

They hover and wait to get you.

Murder is always a mistake.

I'm glad I had an abortion.

It is the difference.

Only one is silent.

I strung you along.

You might find out.

a poem for today, 2 June 2012

a poem for today, 2 June 2012

[a letter sorted sonnet of nine sentences and its image]

You piece of trash.

The more I see, the less I know for sure.

In this dream, I found myself making love to a strange man.

Thousands of girls sit watching him in dark movie houses, go home and they dream about him in dark little bedrooms.

Mental habits have a tendency toward inertia, and these habits resist change that, in retrospect, seems conceptually required.

Being queer is like being on a lifetime assignment as a secret agent in some foreign country.

As for you, my fine friend, you're a victim of disorganized thinking.

Collecting pictures of beautiful boys is all I do in this cell.

Save yourself mammal, we will fend off the asteroids.

study 78 : stretch in a daze

when time folds           the return   stone mouths

chomping bits a you                           how to generate

that breathing thing

inside time is no time inside no time is time

& like that

                   the print

shrinks    till

therapy whomp  data  untold

suffering                       so   listen

    as glisten to

study 77

idiot-proof’d?

idiot prof’d

dim-witted

ok so

they loach too

   the chorus a mind stain

that column

         got cllkjsd

got cloud band width

   with....?

thye all

wanna get past      words

with strained minds,  i guess

a clogged

parahuman

minds

the

store

(E)

for the fall in

life-threatening  such    dim-witted    guffaw at   stymied personhooded   wink’d   slack’d

clatterdin

wrack spangular ; not shown ; multi zero tasking

lash to worsted civ

shill   for a gun     bad path hanged there