disconcertion machine

from the wings a deep breath all this talk about absolution just another day the seismograph spikes the face falls off the side

crunchy apple sweet apple bitter apple shunt black holes and magnetars a teacup of water from the ocean warm molt churn and a ticking disconcertion machine

I hope the ghosts are there just polarized and peeled. The carves tell stories unintended or in jest of an appetite for the subtractive organ of the freewheeled.

To be acting less or in a better context outside of the everyday nostalgia

clamor for causticity low oil for the gears lost in the additive just another pixel

the subtractive organ carves the excess leaving only the marrow a heavy wisdom that tastes of copper and fundamental to humanity

there is a vestibule a bow shock honed in on honey-sweet ghosts seen in vacuum birefringence so sees the sea

remembering pieces of string colors with no names spaces with sunlight soaking the skin unripe lemons rough knife to the neck the stream and the smile mica in the lungs

smudged finger oils on eyes pointed at a mirror pointed at a crowd pointed at the earth

Sisyphus with a cause Persisting exhaustion Scattered tiles Tabs to the right pages Comfortable standards

A green light so bright it shines white some lantern that feeds Pando knows now you will not be all the awful people and awful me

to what end will one capitulate on an askew plain a new lipstick can bring a new shade or perhaps a new flavor a there of nulls to amber and autumns to wander and winter

let me know parallax, kaleidoscope colors to get lost in blurs aminos

temporal wall always on some shelf where you are perceiving nothing something human on the other side, someday

walking its withered angelfish patterns yes, and intention in jazz usurped its ubiety standing on fallow land vain its virtue but there is a truth

an apt material for the board to bounce the echo of salutations a full field spread with warmth to pass vibrations of salutations

misheard the curl you and the offsets and more than to find a numerical mechanism for the folds of slices stacked to somewhere higher and the refraction of and onto pupils

I've seen the dance take many forms Shake away the nerves or find a place away We forget the folds as galbrous monkeys with patches of hair dancing away It may be my one trick For saving face or the courage in a corner To find a way away from a shoebill clatter heard in the folds On a island dancing at the top of a hill Had the time alone to see the dance take many forms With the beat of a drum playing punched through the calfskin to a single point Another formed dance surrounds Crypts for a species Some figureheads standing still tapping feet causing sway A hushed dance of the multifaced it finds a way away from the folds