wall

The wall is always there.
Brick upon brick.
Upon brick. It blocks out the sun. A wall of bricks. I can’t see over it. Its not real. It’s a metaphor. The wall.
I bang my head against it daily. Sometimes hourly.
I am in the office.
I always seem to be here. Surrounded by computers,
coats hanging from stands,
filling cabinets,
people.
I know some of them.
Others are just faces on bodies. We all happen to be here at the same time. Bodies on legs. Heads.
I see them everyday but don’t know them. Occasionally we may pass in a corridor or I may hold a door open for them.
A nod.
A thanks.
We move on.
There are rules.
There are hundreds of faces here.
I know some of them. Faces. Desks. Computers. Doors.
All part of this daily geography.

I sit at my desk and electronically talk to people I’ll never meet. Entire relationships built on words. Words sent through systems I don’t understand how they / this / it works. But it does.
It does work.

I press a button and something changes somewhere in this world. A number on a spreadsheet. A keystroke and a I’m telling a another computer to do something. I will never see the outcome.
I will never see the end.

Advertisements

41 comments

  1. multiplemichael

    WHEN YOU PRESS A BUTTON:
    ——————————————-

    A POETRY MACHINE ROLLS OUT ON AN EMPTY STAGE AND EXPRESSES A CRISIS
    A BREAKDOWN IN THE UFO SILICON CHIPS

    THE POET IS A WELL-CATALOGUED FELLOW
    THE CORRECT NUMBER OF BONES

    HE IS MOST AWARE OF THE MEMORY TRACES EARLY IN THE MORNING
    AS A FETUS HE EXPERIENCED ANXIETY OVER THOUGHTS OF HIS REMOVAL

    HE NEVER RECEIVED GOOD GRADES FOR MANIPULATING LANGUAGE
    HE TOUCHED THE ROOTS OF HIS IDENITY IN A PLAYFUL MANNER

    PEOPLE IN HIS CLOSE PROXIMITY DISPLAYED OSSIFIED LAYERS OF CONVENTION
    A WELCOME SIGN WAS NAILED TO EVERY POINT OF DEPARTURE

    HUNDREDS OF FACES, INSOMNIACS AT THE WORKPLACE, PALE PILGRIMS
    THE POET WAS ALONE WITH HIS OVERPOWERING FEELING OF IMMEDIACY

    HE HAD PHOTOGRAPHS OF BLUE BULLS STRIPPED AND SHAVED TO THE NUB
    THE TRUE MEANING OF HIS POETRY WAS CAPTURED IN THE ABSENCE OF MEANING

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      THE TRUE MEANING OF POETRY IS OFTEN CAPTURED IN THE ABSENCE OF MEANING
      PEOPLE WANT TO TOUCH YOU…TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE REAL
      THEY HAVE EXAMINED YOUR POETRY
      YOUR COMMENT ABOUT IMITATION
      ARE YOU THAT ROMANTIC ECCENTRIC ?
      A MAN WITH A PRIVATE LANGUAGE
      HE GOT LANGUAGE FOR TWO
      UNCONSTRAINED BY RULES OF GRAMMER, SYNTAX, OR MEANING
      ENDEARING NONSENSE TALK OVER A CUP OF TEA
      MOLECULAR FLAKES OF METH CALLED SOUP WITH TEA
      CUP AFTER CUP AND EVERYTHING BECOMES READILY APPARENT
      A CHILDISH ENTHUSIASM, CHEMICAL NURSERY RHYMES
      GRATUITOUS BUT PLEASURABLE, WORDS BEGET WORDS

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      the moon suspended by invisible strings
      the pioneers used boats to move here
      forward towards…something towards
      dreaming..she pictured a world where you have a quota of words your’re allowed to use in a lifetime and once you hit that limit you’re muted –
      silenced –

      choose your words careful mothers would say to sons
      and fathers to daughters –

      the government would allocate new word quotas depending on jobs –

      imagine with a singer with no words
      a poet reaching the limit

      black market trades

      they say everyone has a book in them and there songs

      she told me the story as we hid under jackets
      hidden at party

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        BLOOD IS THE ONLY PASSPORT
        YOU THOUGHT I WAS A WOMAN
        BUT I WAS A MAN
        YOU SAID THAT A MAN BRINGS LESS JOY
        I SAID THAT A MAN BRINGS LESS SORROW
        BRILLIANT AND TELLING PHRASES
        UNDER THE JACKETS
        WE WERE YOUNG
        YOU THE RACE-HORSE
        HAVING READ EVERY BOOK IN THE LIBRARY
        GROWN FAMILIAR THROUGH WORDS
        EKING OUT WHAT BE POSSIBLE
        ME A SINNER, YOU A SAINT

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        THAT BOOZE FEST AT YOUR HOME WAS AN EYE-OPENER
        I MET 27 PEOPLE NAMED OLGA/ELENA/MIKHAIL/VLADIMIR
        MUST BE A SHORTAGE OF NAMES IN THE HOMELAND
        POETS/PAINTERS/MUSICIANS THEY ALL HAD THE SAME EYES
        I WAS AFRAID I WAS IN SOME SORT OF EXPERIMENT
        I DIDN’T MENTION THE CURIE HOUSE OR THE HOT DUST
        YOU WERE SO EXCITED ABOUT THE YOUNG POETS
        YOU WANTED UNDER THE CULTURAL UMBRELLA
        A TRUCKLOAD OF ASPIRATION TOWARD SYNTHESISM
        ENDLESS TALK ABOUT CROSS-FERTILIZATION
        “CAN I PAINT YOU A POEM ?”

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        Syringes at the burial ground
        – fake artist a daub paint on their trousers before entering public space – he looked l like Tom Waits
        – she spoke like Tom Waits / a dog becomes like it’s owner not vice versa – tied to a leash – free booze at the arts party – offers to grow me a poem – write me a picture –
        – so cultured with a K
        – machine plagiarists –
        all words means to ends all ends word to mean
        so many dead eyes in the village that tried to invent a new colour –

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        DO YOU STILL RESIDE BETWEEN THE UNIVERSITY AND THE MEAT MARKET ?
        I RECALL THAT ART HISTORIAN ON THE STREET CORNER
        WHO PREACHED ABOUT CAPTURING AS MANY IMAGES
        AS POSSIBLE FOR THE OTHER SIDE
        YOU HAVE YOUR SPECIALTY
        AND I HAVE MINE
        I’VE TAKEN TO SLEEPING IN THE CEMETERY
        MY NEW FRIENDS ARE MULTIDIMENSIONAL

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        dirt bag jazz man speaks code, daddio –
        university waster – green bag handler – Charlie big potato
        – big man on campus
        – pushing Russian jazz on the uninitiated -profiteering from those wet behind the ears – grown man with hairy balls – not everyone’s cup of tea – pubic floss dormitory fingering a – lights out at sunset

        a meat free butcher of
        silent words of
        sign language with broken hands

        modern history rife with contradiction – caught in the cross hair of psychology

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        thanks for the heads up,
        the battle will take place yes,
        on pay per view –
        Evil in the blue corner weighing heavier then a tumour and good in the red corner
        smoking Italian cigarettes –
        silk trunks shining –
        months training at the chateau a diet of raw meat and anger –
        Florida will rise again after this
        it will rise into the sky – heavenly and bright

        buried under bath salts
        peoples eating faces

        let’s take a minute to think about the numbers while we burn the titles

        sun
        Kill
        moon

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        YOU HAVING READ EVERY BOOK IN THE LIBRARY
        EARTHBOUND, MISSING A TOE AND HEALTHY IN PROPORTION
        BEAUTY INCIDENTAL TO LENGTH AND KNOB
        THE SELF-CONTAINED PERFECTION OF JOHNNY BOY
        SENSITIVE TO ISSUES OF GENDER AND SEXUALITY
        POETRY MACHINE WITH FLIPPERLIKE HANDS
        ASPIRATIONS REFLECTED IN DROOL
        WANNA MAKE PATTYCAKE ?

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        self contained perfection
        held in by a rib cage –
        a bone Bastille
        Jonahs holiday home, a
        smokey lung – I AM GROUNDED –
        belly of the whale –
        a library well thumbed pages – smell of other peoples fingers – strange bookmarks – a bent page like a tattered ear – a sleep in the reference section a book under P – drool on the cuff
        head bowed sleepy in crook of arm
        an elbow of bone
        multiple micheal argues with god

        **librarians at not silent in their own life

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        SEXY NURSES TODAY—-SADLY, DECAY IS ON THE WAY
        CLEAR WARNING, GERM BAGS THE LOT
        EXHAUSTIBLE AGENTS OF REALITY
        THE MOON SMILES ON YOUNG POETS
        HAUNTED BY FLYING SAUCERS
        BY UNKNOWN MODES OF BEING
        IN YOUTH JOHNNY BOY
        DRANK FROM THE CREEK
        OF TROUBLED PLEASURE
        ONE BOYISH ESCAPADE AFTER ANOTHER
        NORMAN KEPT A SCRAPBOOK OF JOHNNY
        THERE WAS A FLOW TO THE SENSUOUS MATERIAL
        NORMAN’S MOTHER LOVED TO THUMB THROUGH IT
        THERE WAS GREAT PRIMORDIAL STRENGTH IN HER THUMBS
        I DARE NOT HINT AT THE TURF THEY SOMETIMES PARTED

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        YOUR LUXURY IS PURCHASED WITH THE YOUTH OF LOWER CLASSES
        ADVANCED DECAY IN TRUTHFULNESS, MORAL BANKRUPTCY
        SUBMERGED POETRY, OUTLINES IN THE SOIL
        ANATOMY RUNNING AROUND, CLEAN AND UNCLEAN
        THE NONSENSE OF THE PROSE, MISPLACED COMMAS
        WANTON DISREGARD OF ANYTHING CONVENTIONAL
        LAWLESS COMPANIONS ON WORDPRESS
        PETTY CRIMES IN POETRY
        OPPOSITE GENDER CRIMES
        DAILY YEARNINGS

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        ADAM AND EVE CRIED DRY TEARS
        AS THEY MARCHED FROM EDEN
        ————————————————–
        THE PROMISED SEED
        VERY LITTLE COULD BE ACHIEVED
        WITH INNOCENCE
        ————————————————–
        I SAW PHOTOS OF YOU
        NAKED IN A TREE
        BEHIND THE CURIE HOUSE

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        ENDLESS SOBS IN THE PILLOW
        FEELING EMASCULATED—HUMILIATED
        HORDES OF WORDS ON PAGES
        UNDESERVING (SO IT SEEMS)
        EROSION OF POETRY
        NEANDERTHAL
        OR WORSE
        *penniless poets thousands of miles from Mexico

        Like

  2. multiplemichael

    YOU OWE IT TO YOURSELF TO INDULGE
    INTERIOR AMUSEMENTS OUTDOORS
    ALONE WITH SELF-TAUGHT ART
    OCCULT ENERGIES MAKE YOU STRONG
    SEVEN STROKES AND LUMPS OF HARD CHEESE
    *sometimes squalling tubes like you passed broken glass
    *orgasmic expression then the sting of bleach

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      THE STRUGGLE WITH THE ISOLATION OF THE SELF
      ASKING FORGIVENESS WILL NOT REMOVE THE CORPSE
      NOTHING CAN BREAK THE BOND OF THE SPIRIT GLUE
      THE CHAMELEON SELF DAYDREAMING OF REPLACEMENT
      A POSSIBLE ROAD OF RETURN ?

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        ——————————————-CHAMELEON SELF—————————————-
        THEY PULLED YOUR GRANDMOTHER FROM THE GROUND WITH A TRACTOR
        “IS THIS THE BOY WITH THE SANITARY PROBLEMS ?”
        WE DO NOT RID OURSELVES OF THESE THINGS
        TORN LIMB AND TORN LIMB—ARMLESS LIVING SPINE
        WHAT CAN YOU DO AT THE FACTORY WITH BLOODY STUMPS ?
        YOU HAVE YOUR PRIVATE SELF AND POETIC LANGUAGE
        MOVE TO FRANCE AND PERFORM MATH
        TALK DIRTY ON THE TELEPHONE
        TO LONELY GAY AMERICANS
        “FAT WORM MATE ?”

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        third person sits beside the second version – the salt of the sea – lick your lips – dada is pronounced dad, it has a silent a –
        – the dad art movement – reactionary views and an eye on the past –
        – diggers dig up yesterday
        – she has more limbs then I had initially expected – a trick of the light. octopus shadow exposed
        – criminal record russian jazz

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        we must move away from this Russian jazz – we know it’s a fantasy, something yet to be made,
        yet to be discovered
        it doesn’t chime with mentality west of the Urals – time moves different in them parts –
        a town of clocks with no hands –
        time in a vacuum
        the only sound they like is hammer on anvil, the sound of heavy industry – foundry as orchestra
        – a jumper with no arms
        can never be isolated when your surrounded by voices
        – or noise
        noises and voices are the same –

        when the daydream invades the nighttime that’s when you need to look at your self in the toothpaste splattered mirror and slap yourself six times

        buried underneath
        inside hospital wards full of coughs
        and sexy nurses I need a cold shower

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        LONELY GAY AMERICANS LISTEN TO GENITAL MUSIC
        WHISPERING ABOUT KISSING, SCATTTERED ORIGIN
        THE POCKETKNIFE OF BABEL COMES TO MIND
        POETS SOLD SHORT, SURRENDERING TO DESIRE
        NATURE BETRAYED, NO BABY BIRDS IN THE NEST
        THE WAY EXTENDS HERE
        WARM LOVE AND GENTLE HANDS

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        POETS WHOOPING AND HOOTING AT A PASSING VERB
        SO OFTEN BEHIND A WALL NEVER TO CROSS
        I HAVE MY MAPS AND MY CERAL BOX COMPASS
        A GRAND PASSION AND A NEED FOR THE UNFAMILIAR
        A THOUSAND INTERRUPTIONS
        BIOLOGY AND HISTORY
        AND RUSTY NAILS
        IN BOARDS
        *my camera has claustrophobia
        *I second-guess everything around me
        AT WORK I CARESS OTHER WOMEN
        IT IS EXPECTED AND PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE
        THEY ARE MOVIE STARS AND I AM A NOVELIST

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        legs like kayaks on waterlogged memories – oh daddy
        was a drunk
        spinning like a tornado down the hall – dropping things as he spun
        – loose change, sweet wrappers, full stops – a Hansel and Gretel trail leading to the scene
        – chalk outlines a forensic scene

        – we write in the same language so we can shot the interpreters –
        – the grand passion can not be expressed in words only actions –
        a touch
        her elbow
        – the colleagues in the office are unaware of the thought process, of multiple Michael
        – he writes their sentences and paints a scene

        – oh daddy the drunk falls down the stairs like a video replay that’s stuck in a comedic loop

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        LATE NIGHT PHONE CALLS
        ABOUT THE CONTRAST BETWEEN THE WAY
        YOU BEHAVE AND THE WAY YOU ACT
        ——you asked your wife to conceal her purse (seemed sinister)
        CLARITY OF PRESENTATION
        SO MANY THINGS SEEM APART
        FROM THEIR FUNCTION IN THE PLOT
        I SEE YOU CRYING ABOUT THE ORDINARY INGREDIENTS
        THAT BAKE UP TO BE YOUR DAILY LIFE
        LACKING IMPEDIMENTS AND DANGERS
        PERFECTLY MUNDANE OFFICE PEOPLE
        NO TALES OF BACKSEAT SODOMY

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        LOUD LED ZEPPELIN AND BACKSEAT SODOMY
        THE MEDIUM OF THE MESSAGE
        THE PAST SLEEPS ON MEMORY
        THE FUTURE FUELS ITSELF WITH ANTICIPATION
        SNOUTS POKING OUT, MISSING TONGUE
        HOW MANY NIGHTS DID I CRY ?
        THE TIMETABLE OF NO TOBACCO OR COFFEE
        A SORRY STATE WITH NO WORDS
        MOMMA TALKING FOR THE BOTH OF US

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        afraid of back seat sodomy in the Bible Belt –
        the congregation is told “don’t knock it till you’ve tried it” –

        funeral conducted around the clock – some buried facedown – there are teeth in the ground;
        others buried miles from home
        and when they rise with cannabalistic intent,
        a taste for meat,
        separated from their past by the dividing live of death,
        they will be lost

        downwind of her perfume the stench of this city street is temporarily lost

        the dead will roam unfamiliar streets

        scratch my eye
        scratch the lens

        51 sorry states

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        BURIED FACEDOWN WITH TEETH IN THE GROUND
        NO NEED FOR WOOD, METAL, OR CONCRETE
        KENTUCKY IS KENTUCKY
        CHANGING SEASONS AND CHANGING RED RAGS
        THE HARDWARE SELLS POISON
        DRIVING AROUND ON BACKROADS
        I LIKE MY POISON STRAIGHT
        OTHERS LIKE SODOMY IN THE BACKSEAT

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        MUTUAL LOVE
        AND THEN A LIFE OF MISERY
        I HAD NO SAY IN ANYTHING
        TRUCKLOADS OF QUESTIONS
        UPBRINGING MEANS EVERYTHING
        THE LACK OF EXPECTATIONS
        BUM BOTTOM BOREDOM
        HUSTLER MAGAZINE
        RECOMMENDS
        KENTUCKY
        SODOMY

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        religious kids can not tell the difference between fact and fiction –
        – confusion about dinosaurs
        – mans relationship with the chimps
        – sodomy and love
        truckloads of questions set alight at the barn dance

        burnt words & lost souls

        8 out 10 American kids couldn’t point to Kentucky on a map

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        MEMORIES AND ANXIETIES ABOUT BIOLOGICAL FUNCTIONS
        THE ABILITY TO BEAR CHILDREN IGNITES THE TORTURE
        MOTHERS DRAG THEIR DAUGHTERS OVER THE FLAMES
        SOCIAL CONNECTIONS AND THE SUFFOCATION OF TOUCH
        MOTHER’S APPROVAL, HER PERSONAL HISTORY KNOWN
        FRICTION AND MARRIAGE AND TROUBLESOME CHILDBIRTH
        HAD TO KILL THE BROKEN, PULLED APART IN PIECES
        POETRY—-EXPRESSED IN SIN OR THE RESULT OF SIN
        THE POET AGAINST HIS OWN VITALS

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        once they removed the head

        everything became significantly less jarring

        the initial ugly shock of black bloody neck

        silently screaming, “LOOK AT ME !”

        became a sentimental conversation piece

        like a table lamp from a dead pet

        life cut off for the sake of poetry

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        DOWN ON OUR KNEES
        THANKING GOD FOR THE PURITAN CULTURE
        IN OUR FAMILY TREES
        THE EARLY HOLY-ROLLERS
        NOT THOSE CHUBBY GIRLS ON ROLLERSKATES
        KEEPSAKES ON SKATES ?
        FEELINGS WILL ERUPT IN THE DRAMA
        FRENETIC ACTIVITY A-GO-GO
        WANNA WIN—GOTTA WIN !!!
        NOTHING MUST CLOG THOSE WHEELS
        DEAD TO PLEASURE SERIOUS
        WITH MACHINELIKE RESISTANCE
        GOING TO TAKE AN ELBOW OR TWO
        A KICK IN THE CABOOSE
        SATURDAY NIGHT IS BLACK EYE
        BRUISES THAT BULGE

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        erotic images stuck behind a firewall – TV executive in taxi
        traffic jam
        gridlock, as still as a drawing –
        powder falling from nose –
        powdered bones we shall become

        the defacto president of Pomerania –

        I learnt kung fu from watching films –

        days spent in the tomb with manuals how to make cakes
        Notre Dame from lolly pop sticks
        bombs and wires

        save the children in the silence before the rocket hits

        more than Saturday night black eyes

        the mathematics of explosions, sounds waves bouncing off walls,
        strangely,
        the room was destroyed,
        all windows smashed
        the sofa found two streets away but the teapot next to the explosion

        untouched in the vacuum

        man makes the machine
        no man
        no machine

        I sent her a postcard

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        SHE SHOWED ME THE POSTCARD
        GUILTY OF SINGLE-MINDED PRESUMPTIONS
        THE COLOR OF JOHNNY BOY
        AT THE EDGE OF NIGHT
        A WORD MAGICIAN REVEALING HIS TRICKS
        I THREW ROCKS AT YOU
        SHE SHOWED ME THE POSTCARD
        YOU SIGNED YOUR NAME
        THELONIOUS MONK
        POETS LOVE TO ATTRACT IDENTIFICATION
        STEPPING THROUGH FIRE
        THAT WAS YOUR THING

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        EVERY WORD IS A BRICK AND EACH ONE A DELAY
        A FIVE DOLLAR SOLILOQUY OF ABDICATION
        TAKE A PHOTO OF THE 7000 BOXES
        THE FUTURE HOLDS ONLY NUT CRAMPS
        AND DRY CONVULSIONS
        *the throne wrapped in bubble wrap

        Like

  3. multiplemichael

    poems become fast-food outlets
    POEMS BECOME FAST-FOOD OUTLETS
    ALONG THE STREET, PESSIMISTIC POETS SHRINK AND HIDE
    along the street, pessimistic poets shrink and hide
    the collective disease, reading about the collective disease
    THE COLLECTIVE DISEASE, READING ABOUT THE COLLECTIVE DISEASE
    HE PUT ALL HIS SELF-EXPLORATION IN CARDBOARD BOXES
    he put all his self-exploration in cardboard boxes
    special moments with anne rice, mental memories
    SPECIAL MOMENTS WITH ANNE RICE, MENTAL MEMORIES
    IMAGINARY DIALOGUES WITH SPACECRAFT PEOPLE
    imaginary dialogues with spacecraft people
    old women positioned in vampire lore
    OLD WOMEN POSITIONED IN VAMPIRE LORE
    I PAY PEOPLE TO WAVE THEM BY
    I pay people to wave them by
    ran out of rocks, now they wave them by
    RAN OUT OF ROCKS, NOW THEY WAVE THEM BY
    STEREOTYPING READERS OFTEN IN SHORT PANTS
    stereotyping readers often in short pants
    domestication and hot tea, not a single pair of short pants in town
    DOMESTICATION AND HOT TEA, NOT A SINGLE PAIR OF SHORT PANTS IN TOWN
    GENDER TROUBLES COATED WITH BLACK MENSTRUATION
    gender troubles coated with black menstruation
    I pay people to wipe them clean
    I PAY PEOPLE TO WIPE THEM CLEAN
    TORTURED LANGUAGE AND MUTILATED FLESH
    tortured language and mutilated flesh
    I pay people to wave them by, to wipe them clean
    I PAY PEOPLE TO WAVE THEM BY, TO WIPE THEM CLEAN

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      POEMS BECOME FAST FOOD OUTLETS
      FOCUSING ON THE AGGRAVATIONS OF FAST FOOD OUTLETS
      CASUAL EXCHANGE OF GERMS—GLANCES
      THEN FRICTION IN THE REST ROOM
      DISTURBED PEOPLE TRYING TO EMPTY URINE
      IT WAS A BATHROOM NOT A MOTEL
      SHERLOCK HOLMES HAD LEFT HIS SIGNATURE
      WELCOME-TO-TOWN STRANGER
      A PRIVATE CURIO SHOP AND POOP HAVEN
      ERECT SENTENCES, LOW HANGERS AND VERBS
      GHOSTS OF PREVIOUS EVENTS AND DEEDS
      PEARL WHITE GLOBS—THAT BOB DYLAN GLOW
      STEP INTO THE HANDICAPPED STALL
      PERSONAL SATISFACTION
      OUTSIDE ONE CAN ORDER FOOD WITH A SMILE
      EACH EMPLOYEE HAS A TUMOR
      A STATION WAGON WITH A LOW TIRE
      VARIOUS SURVIVORS OF CHILDBIRTH
      PLAGUED WITH DIFFERENT AGES
      FAKE SNAKES AND NOVELTY VOMIT
      MOMMA HAS TURNED THE HOME
      INTO A NOAH-LIKE ARK

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        MOVING BEYOND THE LIMITS OF FLARF
        ROLE PLAYING AND GENDER SHIFTING
        THE TEXT BOOK MENTIONED “SELF-EXPLORATION”
        ORAL REPORTS OF GENDERED ISSUES
        IN COLOR ON A COLOR SCREEN
        SHADOWS OF A FORMER SELF
        PESSIMISTIC AND DISTURBING

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      DARK SILENCE, A SMALL KNIFE CUT THAT CONTINUES TO BLEED
      POEMS IN A PINCH, DISORDER AND RANDOMNESS AMONG WORDS
      THE SURGES AND WITHDRAWALS OF A HONEYMOON POET
      I HAVE MENTIONED SEVERAL TIMES
      THAT MY EYES ARE NO LONGER INTELLECTUAL
      A LIFE IN BLACK MELANCHOLY
      THE FINAL STOP
      ALONE

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        SUPPLIED ITALICS FOR THAT AFFLICTION
        A SAC LIKE A KANGAROO
        PRIVATE THEORIES ON SURGERY
        LEAVE THE STEM
        SENTIMENTAL BOYS IN THE TRASH
        LARGER MEANING OF MORTALITY
        EXPANSION OUTWARD
        FROM THE GRAVE
        THE CENTER
        SOIL CARPET
        *people say that success is dust

        Like

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s