Wednesday, August 5, 2015

2 poems || William Hughes

The Continent in My Attic

Lampshade dreamcatcher
Pink sunlight, green clouds
To the right of the aircraft
   you can see light falling backwards,
   trampolines for angels

4 a.m. in the apartment thinking of diagnosis
There are more than just two kinds of people
The drugs are your diving bell
I stuck around the college so long I met the hospital

The plane lands on the runway and I have
   successfully traveled back in time
My old ceiling’s frozen
Above, the transparent afternoon moon
The sky is in the bricks, diamonds collect and
   harden sacred rainwater
Butterfly atoms make up the inner dome of the courthouse
My suit and tie are a swimming pool of dreamwater
Scorpions cling to the outer cover of my novel

But today has been remarkably slow
Trying to relax in an old church pew
Listening to the recital
   of a three-light wedding
The water is wide but it’s a hymn
I hear another scene
   I see him closing the cupboards alone

Tree roots grow from our brains
The sun is an octopus that stilts across the broad plains
Alone in the empty apartment, face to the opium stars,
Kiss the nameless deep

Capital Cities Around a Well

John Philip Sousa interrupted with “Carry my cash n loans!” and the environment depends on how many jobs there are, a telephoto lens increased spiraling leftward as it zooms to the bacteria sized ground  Since calamity is the only cuckoldry, so beauty’s a rifle Or a blooming magnet five percent of the way out of its polar waves radiating when she, fluctuating gun-shy hostess where it rains all day, I can’t help but contain pollution, “come on it swinging from the wall!” the cash cow grabs   Horrendously The way it sips its tea we may never meet again your muffled chloroform lights in the midnight public market which house the ventgates leading to the famous milk and gasoline railroad crossings and down the tunnels of wheatstalks where A senator of being, and Mozart perch intrinsically upon the grey ghost organ of the underground swiss castle where they are searching ever deeper for heaven his fingers sing out unspeakable golden shafts  Uptight where the elevators drop to the civil engineer red hats glowing, opal stones flashing No one knows the power of a crenellated horoscope Undersized C-Jumper cable font sent through beta messages in the mail to reproduce the hygiene aspect of the unwarranted fishmongers out there among the high tidal towers lifted radiowise from the levitating searange - ridgeline blue tops in day, onyx seersucker 8-bits at night on the rolling F sharp waves where the stories indigenously hail from 

                                    New York has gone up in ritualistic, laminate flames and
                                    the workforce mines Cheetos from the government 
                                    and Sierra Club’s thinking, “How could anyone hate me”
                                    sinkholes - too bad under the vine is a –
                                    the general fanfare is like the haystraws of a wickerwire
                                    basket concentric unlike the metallic phosphorescent that
                                    crowns the dalmation tigers of unbreached justice systems

Yes I said to a yellow yesterday and the hornet came after me his dog on a hound outside all leashes but yellow has arrived back to me today and I have changed its meaning  Undersized C-Jumper cable font sent through beta messages in the mail to readhere the injection of the purposes of the bull and the seal How can Orsino the photographer make no judgements He makes no judgements he has no judgement, the lesser for us to be for we are impossible to not be accosted on some other side of the field we can’t see before  I could not, clearly could not, grab the clear ropes yelling over the quiet sound of the civil engineer with his slick pomade swipe the ropes were clear in the clear open springwell artesian hollow pillar housing only the choreographed rubber conveyor belt and its satanic pulleywheels buried deeper in the earth than heaven and mozart 

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