they she on the street
death comes & were found
in the bush h w i z e m n or living in
a south with our lover
k o j l writing
how holiday places are ruined
p r s t v in a church starting a poem
q x y withdrawing a dynamic its poor
a game starts a b c t d one rules
no going outside of a circle
f h which admit had its effects
h w i e being obnoxious n g
represents repression when youre obsessed
k o its all dry & wont get
wet j l m p z z s v q x feel a vibration isnt
to see his fate tonight
importing heat into wherever theres gaps
being reclusive with a rose
y a b c finding
archives t trying to reverse what
had been learned he turned from
a switch d f his zipper catching
notice h w now
im writing in colour blades
of green flash by do you
hear it people on ponds
her unreal name he was
being romantic too i q n & what if
they just went home g k o l m unwanted
spared for our behind team
p j z z with nets & like a donkey
sending out its deadly bees he
superiorly watching from a nonexistent
s e v y my self
something his country could identify
a c t in the boat with a career
kicking about it should smell
a sun on you like
a painter d f h b e & your dog makes
friends with emptiness because its
it home it wasnt an
elixir at all q n g w k o l a wry face
a reading of mince a
or surprises readers of selves
theyre teaching what they want to
know its new years eve
join hands an instabilitys x m deflected
were safe in the earths character
for the number we are
my tonometer is glib, ibo shall tangle the strobiles of your heather.
my toon is glib, iching shall tangle the stromata of your hebetude.
that dainty yoyo erased, was ithyphallic not of your motor?
my yugoslav, my sun, lotharios passing.
my zambo, my sup, lounges passing.
my zed, my superego, loves passing.
that dalmatian yurt erased, was ixia not of your motu proprio?
damask roosters, vixens 4th secco, cliched & beautiful.
my zen, my superfluity, lox passing.
the ophicleide yoyo lampooned, was ithyphallic not the jade halacha?
my topaz is glib, icile shall tangle the structuralisms of your heck.
yoyo turn your hearing & ibo shall never see yoyo again,
what do ibo have to lose, sweet imp, but evzone.
yurt turn your heath & iching shall never see yurt again,
that damask zapateado erased, was jabberwocky not of your mould?
that damnum zedoary erased, was jack not of your mount?
my zeppelin, my superior, lubritoriums passing.
my topi is glib, iconology shall tangle the strumpets of your heddle.
my vertebration of hives: paleae, wrongdoers, the red desiccator of peppermints.
my vervet of hob: palindromes, xanthippes, the red desk of percents.
my topos is glib, id shall tangle the stuccoes of your heel.
that tire yoyo embraced, was ithyphallic not of your fatso?
zapateado turn your heavy & icicle shall never see zapateado again,
my torah is glib, idee recue shall tangle the stuffs of your height.
my torgoch is glib, ides shall tangle the stunts of your helianthus.
my torpid is glib, idler shall tangle the sturgeons of your helium.
enter the tussle, my motors bacteriology, take what yoyo desire.
the human face of blah blah
they made a set. to know whether right narrowing ’tis not
halfpenny cerise they commune hot-
treading the same steps over fumble over tumble they pres-
bytere their way each shaft
smooth a science
used to trial
them freeway hit back
Pray instant dear obstruction have allowed mellow
wind separation making an ardour
woman in plaits creation of a track
positively, scraped nothing chipped
because of the hay
and recouping hand- at sides hand toward
him combining the violence to his voice
light like a magi levity or ridge folly
reason swaying with research flying from the stands
with imitation rights: the boxer the boxers song
all day ended and finally swam
and P. And P baulked at nothing big
never finished quiet
And L said it
at the preview and I glimpsed a jockstrap
a new slender And anyway he gets controlled
new Life nutty
and it all looked as if it was
absorbing. C he acceptance absorbed. She’s friends
a history with my lounge and I earned a point what I really admire and she
and I had steak and I left late
and she gave me a tip a great deal
at the bar a male scent
now – an impetus
texts that change the conscious parameters of literature, both for readers and writers. from a different angle than these, r.p. blackmur adds: 'poetry: [is] ...language so twisted and posed in a form that...it adds to the stock of available reality.' formerly edited by peter ganick. send texts to Volodymyr Bilyk at firstname.lastname@example.org for consideration...
Saturday, October 16, 2010
poems || michael farrell
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