Archive for February, 2016

sunken ships find the bigger pearls


23 Feb

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content advertised content
 
smoking, king size bed
ocean view, no pets
some plants, but
alone, completely alone
though open to coupling
slightly unhinged
though other times mellow and micromanageable
obtuse when drinking
and if you find me asleep to the world –
place best wishes beside the crown
watch the orange animal semiluminousness at dusk
remember that there’ll be soup in the fridge
french onion, perhaps tomato bisque
transfer kettle contents to a bowl
make sure it’s one that won’t melt inside the microwave
microwave for two minutes
(smoking is optional, cigarettes by the dresser)
enjoy the soup with a piece of bread
preferably rye
after all, this meal has had a lot of practice being holy
just like a demotic daydream
that we were all children once
welcome to the earth
like freckles on a speck of light
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Shorty’s Back


12 Feb

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cigarette burn 04

the sun fainted into sky
the moon painted, faded through the door
she never said goodbye
at least not anymore

never argue with a drunk or a fool
so, as I am one of both
you should not accept my invitation to debate
cede me the win
surely, you can tell that I can use it
especially after I spilled my drink like a dithyramb for you
the birth of another silly goddess
destined to be patronized
by all us, drunks and fools

the sun fainted into sky
the moon painted, faded through the door
she never said goodbye
at least not anymore
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these are… what d’you call ’em…


06 Feb

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Transitions
 
I can’t tell
whether this room is dying or being born again
I’m in here, nearly alone, reading Samuel Beckett
thinking elegant thoughts about stones and hubris
that march like elephants routed roughly across each temple
burning, rubbled
I am driven mad by the wrong smells
you wearing a clean body
specklessly washed
unable to find a fresh towel to wrap around those hips
and yet and yet and yet
I hear a fire inside each nostril
and am left to wonder why
maybe a cool swim inside you will clear this up
a revolution all its own
not a curtain-raiser, nor a bit of literature
simply a clarion whimper, aseptic warfare following
and an ascetic’s revolving anxiety bouncing between us
we scream for love and for renewal
and we’ll kill all those that have hidden the bones of those that came before
screamed like us before
we are the regeneration of the past vying for a future
you are clean, the elephants keep marching
and I must be roused again to fill this room
because, like us, it is going through transitions
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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings


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