coughing into a pale sheet while nymphs swarmed streelamps
desperate to drop from the moonlight
greedily she sought the sleep of fruit waiting to fall
pearls glistened under the skin of his fingers, spiraling into potato peelings
funds were not fungible anymore, and fronds were not food
breathing listlessly the air of the brazilian jungle under a vacant canopy
bound by a dream-fruit craving
the falling of a drop on the merest mind
the failure of a string on a misplaced parcel
the growth of a pearl in a dying oyster
flies buzzed through the moonlight of another useless day
crinkled paper-texture enveloped mold in the study
grist in the mill spreading between the stones falling to the floor in whispering piles
breathing her air, and touching the merest surface of the table
blowing in a cautious wind, casting a careless shadow
a plastic sheet startled, distracting from the regal dust-fest
crabs gave a new gift to the moon - the sound of a perpetual castanet
riddled by a reasonable question
crumpled by the weight of an empty shoebox
useless as a fork to a fiddlehead
minding the P's and Q's of a blinding ghost
seen traveling the same way, they felt a momentary fear
crippling fears of discovered cup-stains
cringing at the thought of a solitary blemish on the moon
wiggling between the worn paths brought an endless bounty
crowded round the failing fire, collapse took them one by one by one by one
futile purpose found in the edge of evening
a tumbledown old mind hid behind sharp hair and a predilection for slightly overripe fruit
a thousand thousands of tiny shards fell from her mouth: a final testament, a final trial
racked by chloroform, the prince called for yet another plate of oysters
tear-blinking, an eye blinked in the presence of tiny hands
moonwash brought a fresh sense of purpose to the hapless while causing the cowering of the bold
crag-rocked, a hill rose before her sodden eyes, spurring the growth of a single tiny fear
light streaming through panes lands on a pearl, causing footfalls, shouting, a broken hand
elsewhere, the tide changes and a solitary mussel is revealed
following on from a forgotten thought: pain and sadness without a hint of meaning
the urn cast a horror-light on the throng, mourners all, but for what?
screaming furiously into a conch while seven pins fall slowly into a soundless slumber
found lying in a field: 16 ripe pears and a single grape
cringing beneath a brilliant leaf, his glistening bulk shuddered into silence
the tide brought boughs to sing songs of majesty to the assembled monks
warm sunlight filtered through a garden of tempered glass and cold tea
covered in fur, it was indeed an odd crab, but odder still was the flavour of the nearby pears
'turble-cat' murmured the vizier, as he contemplated braziers and ornate rugs
words poured forth from the ground-crevice, baffling the trees and causing epidemics
all manner of fruits and steel boxes were worn festively
this is a new day, a new way to pray, the dawning of a certainty
forever awakening the slumber of chairs, the instantaneous blindness of consciousness exerted itself
mucous-dripping, the matrices munched mustard
forged in the glance of a bed-wetter, his naked hand felt like an icicle encased in doubt
crushed down into the depths of his pants were two perfect VHS tapes
if i had a mango, i'd eat it right now
a strange day and a strange knight ate figs together while playing at kings
crinkled with sleep, the pages of the book refused to turn
grieving over the loss of the tide table, Pierre guessed 179 jelly beans
shredded potato eyes covered every inch of his skin while he wrote his magnum opus
scorned once, and forgotten - until the sand covered over everything and swam away
futzing about with lily-pads while dream-fronds rock gently in the visible garden
dead leaves clogged his mind, as his fingers fumbled to open the drains
hoar-frost covered the flaming sword
roosting in the depths of iron bars was getting old, so the fish decided to eat moonbeams
lying there, mote-eaten, her eyes rove fitfully over the death-stones at the waterfall
eat a fish for breakfasteat a fish for teaeat a fish for window-paneseat a fish for me
deftly, he flayed the orange while following the abbot into another smiling tirade
a mission granted him permission to study only the motes which grew in sand-flea's eyes
you all have such great smiles
grown in the exact centre of a dying pomegranate, William IV was nothing if not nothing
fused with another ocean's fauna
fettered by another man's beard-trimmings
feigning ignorance, the grapefruit said nothing
forged in a steaming rice pudding, it lay cold now, and dreamt of salt water showers
grated skin fell from the sky like flakes of wonder
he stumbled as he fell, combining two graceless actions into a pickled cabbage
counting the drops of sand in her mind, he swallowed forcefully and began to drink
crinkled eye-flesh spoke volumes about the indigenous fruit-trees
murdered in her home, and still living there, too
a million ships had crashed into his farm, leaving behind a trail of horror and shit-eating smiles
a thousand thousand deaths swallowed his face as he tried to swim ever faster
muffins were used to plug the whole dam
great smiles opened wide the eyes of mystery
a moon-eater forced him to grow teeth
he brushed aside the complaints, and poured additional salt into the begonias
he ate ten thousand thousand thousands
dead things infested the car like maggots in a perfume-store
rubies shot from her teeth, or perhaps not
a bloody tome glossed the words of a moonless night
an ancient grimoire detailed the crimes of every single grain of sand left in his shoe
peach cobblers make fruit-shoes
playing with his intestines, a boar-feaster entered into protracted marriage-deliberation
forgotten lands wept blood, but only on Tuesdays, and only if the heraldry was precise enough
she missed her hand dearly, and turned upside-down cups into radishes
a wriggler cannot ever find the space to keep a ship
a skeleton protruded from his soul, withered, and smiling
creating a new shoe took away too much time from eating watermelons, so she began to hop violently
hating the fizz in his blood only made the sand hotter
pursed lips meant the bells tolled sideways while slipping into something more comfortable
deadfaced mangoes stared lustily at her fingernails, as a fish wondered why it couldn't swim
worse than the fact of his imprisonment was the pain of never having tasted grapefruit
craggy-faced and mind-bent, she reclined fitfully as the treacle flowed over her hands
fragrance ringed his fingers while the myriad hosts of mirrors swallowed his soul
death came quickly to the tree, as it rolled vowels in its bark
milking the situation for all it was worth, the cacophonous reached deeper for another breath
photos of the deeds filtered slowly through the usual channels - channels clogged by bloated minds
it was larger and cleaner in the dream, she decided, and needed a thorough beating
gnawing on the bone left her feeling fulfilled, yet wide-eyed in the face of cosmic truth
why wait for the brain to mature - simply dump the flowers here
he cycled between rage and the upper west side, drawing constantly on a lined yellow legal pad
his bean-face disgusted the peasants so much they slept in a pile
for each and every horror, a brandisher laced with wizened goats
he twisted the cabbage into a demented polo mallet
the grapefruit-craven never left him a moment's peace
grazed by insight, morning took the day off the shelf and dusted slowly
the sounding of her trumpet eclipsed the fire of her hair
the meaning of his name eclipsed his beauty
voyaging on a cabbage leaf, the fool supped in brockle-twine and farthing-bits
feeble words he heard, coming from the tainted mouth, feeble and cruel
he lilted slowly into the water, swaying gently with a long-forgotten wave
his crystal-face haunts, while a torrent of putrid love flows forth
found lying in my soul: a song of oceans
found lying on my mouth: a single tear
found tattooed on my face: a single eyelash
covered in mud, he sang a song of lying still, a song of rapier-wits, a song of hunger-pangs
i ate a giant pear in Barbados, and then waded into her arms dripping cabbage juice
delicious crammed fish baked in the pan, but all i could think of was my missing lute
i voyaged deeper into the jungles of Brazil, wondering why i had ever left
i have no will, i am not human, i am but a watcher of worlds
whether I will or not, I wander wastefully world-wards
given a peach, I'll take a plumgiven a plum, I'll take your thumbgiven a thumb, I'll kill your Mum
a thickness measured wrong-wise will serve to sever
six months later, she got a mild headache, and regretted ever trying to find an egg
a fish slid through his arms as he tried to grasp the fundamental concepts of numerology
egg-drop soup splashed all around their tiny vessel, but their minds turned to bitter draughts
she peeled him out of his skin, and poured another glass of cranberry juice
"munch on this, you fuck" she cried, foisting a tiny pewter car onto the trash can
one way is much like a day at school, the other, like a pomegranate
a moon shining pelt lay athwart the thwart while he paddled the McElroys
gorged on polyvinyls, the Grognards sniffled and snorted as the moon plummeted
the victor brushed aside a dusty tome on his way to firm-grasp a continental divide
tear at it, and slather it with your spit, for it is but the seed of an apple, left behind unwanted
embalming fluid coursed through his veins as he thought, "this - this is what it means to feel free"
the nets were cast, and still, he thought, i wish for rain
gaining ground, the destroyer decided to vent all of the shells that had taken so long to find
forced it past the teeth, and right into the bloody stomach as I faltered
a vendor sat, wishing he had meant more to more
the grapefruit-craving never left him a moment's peace
then, falling faster still, the toast did the impossible: it fell
the socks marked the wanderer as she forced her way through another field of agony
the bishop entered slowly, as all around him were raised the forests of a timeless ovation
and then, the king swatted with his sword - alarming the courtiers, and igniting ever more braziers
whole-swallow the beans - don't chew, or your teeth will never stop
i won the pound of twitching molluscs in a foot race with a rhododendron
when asked about his methods, he replied simply, "the cheese grater"
a whiff of the past returned to them, and they all agreed to grow
only slipping is allowed here, so run
but then the waffles fell slowly, and the ducks thundered against the vestiges of her soul
flying mother-wards, the bulldozer tore the hearts of unborn gods
like clam-shells opened for inspection, a single oak slammed shut
all was lost - the pieces could not move, as he had forgotten their styles and gestures of advance
as she approached, he recited the litany against love
their swollen faces erupted out of the shifting ground, and loomed towards our stalwart knave
i am a shadowless rider, and before me fly the hosts of mirrors
pain shooting lengthwise reminds that long and limpid are the path of the wastrel
the horror of the tripping track folded him into a tiny packet of morning coffee
if ever the foe should come, swallow all the liquids and rejoice
ants may tarry for but a little while, for never again will the white paint drip so slowly
her face was the breath of bumble-wing upon my toe
mourningly, Wicklethorpe bride-ate
they were terrified, yet not so much they couldn't throw stones at clouds of gulls
i cannot see, for all of the wonder has left
"hate those guavas", she raged silently
meddling, he dropped another bearing
she flew an orange kite, to win the favour of the Moon
and as the lava poured gingerly over his mind, he wished for death and a good stiff drink
and still, the same sound wept for them all
for each and every braid, a brandisher laced with honeyed boars
sulkily, Wicklethorpe humble-spake
turn and face the welt-giver, friends
pounding into the dust and swelling with joy
and the birds sang songs of suffering,and the drunken men sang blues
found in the sand dunes, the tiny ember reminded him of a moist place
and then i fell into the pitalong the shallow-water bit
"philanthropist!" she shouted at the tray of damp cookies, while spinning surprisingly slowly
hastily, Wicklethorpe self-recoiled
slipping quickly between their nostrils, her blade found a wealth of fresh fruit
an everyday occurrence: this time, teeth omitted
a frog took him in its mouth, even as the last silence of the sea came crashing around them
an intimate shadow-pattern scarred her face
black fins of anchor-weed closed around her head
and, when the ruddy light fades, the earth will vomit forth gophers
pain shooting lengthwise reminds that smooth and cranky is the way of the torpid
sinking shepherds at sea have lost fig and friend
a physicist ate pears while she searched the purulent sand-tracts for widows
i further-shrank into the melting swamp, as a thousand malevolent motes floated gently down
for each and every blade, a brandisher laced with sticky sores
I thought the end of morning, and it was
angrily, Wicklethorpe paper-burned
a distillate of pickled mango trickled down his face as he stomped fitfully eastwards
for each, an apple - from each, a stone
"with such a tight and flavourful loaf..." he said, trailing off into a trench of desperate souls
"tri-cubic", she loud-shouted - her last-word, and her first-word
surrender to me the Nothing-Fish, my boy
grazed by their intuition, he shrank until none could withstand the pressure of the air
a wood-word that topaz-smelt fell strangely
cones, spheres, cylinders, and Sundays
as between a fish and an ape, as between a pear and a moon-beam, so between you and I, my love
hog-death and storm-breath choked the air
a sewer-dream came, and brown pipe-bugs devoured her face
but, then again, fore-reach til the breaking of cinders renders condors inert
winding always-clockwise brings a tear to my only eloping bell
the end of a triple-ocean brings forth the leggings of a triple-wind
wish-fulfillment is to wordsmithing as a boiled cabbage is to the perihelion of the planet Mars
sinking slowly into the rifts left by the passing of Matterhorns
forever is a long time to wait for cabbages to ripen on the vines of pear trees
while loping across broken tables, he always read Whitman
gibbering like a fool, rising up always into the oceanic depths of murder
like a fool, always trying to slide into the bole of a tree
and then I fell into her arms of satin wormwood
forever and a day, and a day, and a day, of walking into low-hanging bard-beards
never has delicious sauce looked so
he only goes side-wards to tressles and small bumps form
I telephoned him, and only trees blew in the wind - not pies, nor evangelicals
eating only fish makes suns of sons
pornographers never went there
there is a man who eats only boiled eggs while the boot-straps of the ocean call, 'Suomi!'
I can't believe only staid staid staid staid staid staid staid staid
treacle is even more delicious when the moon is Wednesday
but then again, all tall people are really waves crashing on the shore
bored of toads and otters, I sit surrounded by all the King's of Erudite Sevenses