Once in a garden when flora and faun would promenade up and down there lived a beautiful velvet chigger. This creature had stripes of luminescence down its back and paws the size of two toes. Chigger lived near the wall where also grew the poemato tree of slender written boughs. Great green leaves hung down with the points of stars. Great poemato soared. The flora and faun under the trees of that garden astound. Sentences ran like streams through herbs.. Its stalks stood up ahead. I got a tractor and plough and arm and arm furnished manure and mulch for the word trees, plus a special future language variety. Adjectival grass, noun succulents flourished that not even the linguistica knew. Anyone with a good spade could dig a story there, though it’s better to wait till rains. That whole garden was covered with words.
Everything was mowed, pruned and planted by word, but berms hid the body of poemato past. All farmers and gardeners recognize this flesh of whitewashed trunks and sun on legs. The double edged razor needed no liquid creams. Recycled decay mucked up universals. Prospectors with spades and boots roto-tilled the ear. The inquiring pruner, the yes and no quaint, old-fashioned as it seems, didn’t garden or write.
2
Little things left in the thistle ditch like cedar bane of the grey green boundary ran to the lost, the twain down which rivers run to a mooing crowd, a crowd like a herd of cows, or like repatriated bison put there to multiply. It is a preserve. Few hope they will escape to propagate themselves, nearly extinct they browsed the pasture so long We don’t think they will escape and bury us in their trails. hymned being.
We call this civilization because hoods and vice grips protect the doors. No flies allowed. No flying period. This is the party of spooks. Sure they seem wild and goofy and have wooly, dirty and dusty bindings, but the innard flesh the hunter seeks turns readers upside down who can’t think after how to put the pieces back. The guts lay on the ground. None escape into the tame those words. Simple reversal won’t do. They stay in their dresses, store bought dolls go home. Fantasies of escape are everywhere, but invisible sheriffs and hunters cure that. Just try living one and see what happens. It all comes down to the requirement of ages. Lay down bunkers of story, reinforce with peat and dry wit. The bog guru left to starve in the midst of plenty where the garden proliferates did not hate the flesh of fruit.
So if it’s that obvious then you know the god iridescent coats and feathers would molt your heads. Why do bizarre pomegranates flutter down at night with little wingy batgranates and pombats? Isn’t the garden extinct? The pigeons grown too fat to slice the bread, the spirit world delivere that okra-like splitting pod, the divine pomato, Did the out pods think thought was free when the buzz saw sliced the heart?
This arbitrary peace stem, long aimed beautiful cloud fingers pointed into some old barn where the corn trees and pine were kept. Are there replacements for such things when the mind and the form of gods ask to be replaced? As though none of it mattered and we could just substitute another cog, outer space, inner space, spirits flicked like fluorescent curs. Nothing was so important as landing in the pentagon. The door prize was six yards of dirt, a berm on your grave and day lilies and renegades. There must be something to cause such betrayals besides getting lost in the wave pattern. Line on line, precept on precept, here a drink, there a drink. hey baby, is there a spiritual world? In the delicatessen: what will it be to today mam? “Slices of heart dear.”
They pecked beaks peck down in earth to pull up another poetatum, a one paradise thorn where we had suspended a license. To get a license you must love the pomato, the three syllabled fruit. We would all get vaccinated for it and live ever after except they don’t want us to find the body of flesh in winter
Consider this eternal selves when you reach the eternity you believe broadcast on radio, living naturally, close to the Igod made with the hearts and hands by the Newtonicly defined powers. Mind men you may not know, but it is true that everywhere they seek to fill the God hole with themselves. They think you are doing what they are doing, but cannot know, pre microchip, what is being thought, when buses exhale diesel fumes of the inversion cosmos, looking for parking spots in sensitive child brains to feed the spirit of rebellion. When the veil falls they do not think it will, it will not fall on them. Ever since people have asked if there is a spiritual world.
So wind up the serendip, round suited crash on the run. Chase out with no pursuer, ex machina made to happen. Call out, “its fated,” the pairing of immovables. The aspects of the agents know nothing, completion of a millennium.
It’s like there’s nothing, no nothing named that we call dilemma, the best human proof. The physical cannot question the physical. it’s only by contrast the question occurs. I am hot I once was cool. This proves itself a custom. Phone lines bust. Knowledge ordains belief. Feed sack, rationalize yourself.
The veil that covers the antitruth comes to light. And that’s the pitch. Poemato lets fly.
Do not blame the pig for profanations of our joy, turning the lewd sacred, not that that is simultaneous. For Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo who would weep for poemato amid the blaze of noon? But there is a poemato moon. Shouldn’t it be done antiphonally. Chiggers and mice. Snapdragons and poultry. Fertility and the gliding rhythm when periodicity came and looked like a McDonalds. There it is just the one pizza and all others a copy. And bank robbers. And toe holds. And whitewash the trunks. Yey put some cream on the orange trees. cut from air
The double edged razor left no liquid cream but electric.
Quaint and old-fashioned those wall sockets didn’t write,
the thought of it was free when the buzz saw cut the heart.
the death and nonseasonality of the man of sin.
Please do not throw in the canal. Reconstituted it can feed the birds. So bye now. S
Join the Brigades
“Say now Shibboleth: and he said Siboleth, for he could not frame it right.” Judges. 12.6
They raise their heads on caucus stalks,
those fgov aliens made of pot,
Seven ballots take the crown
that time warp bands Reptile around.
The best kept dragon sulphurity
Of insects fracked July.
Rub with garlic to purify.
Oh Wal-Mart! Ohio,
Pittsburgh lament
the brazen sea that culled our House!
That people sprayed to Oz.
Akron was drawn to afterlife
And Cleveland beat its breast.
Cleveland!
There goes Shaker Heights into the sea!
Top priests wrote convention blurbs
that let the future out.
Driven by Chicago's Stress
pyramids and mounds
a 9self formulated id broke skin.
New York, Darjeeling, east LA,
buried sin to place the blame,
Japan went to the sun with the D.C. mayor.
Marduke at the Capitol
and Merkel shot a round.
Fish, fowl and beast creep to the stars,
and Nineveh’s remnants of Egypt
bowled the aisle.
Graft Maple, Oak and iron then
to ten million men with brains,
Kedar, Edom, Bobal bloom.
Reptilians just stayed home.
A deeper frack of Cleveland
when aliens hit it long.
Want transcendence?
Scabbers scrape your knees.
Transcendent corps,
transcendent gofernments,
no wonder Thought Goats praise.
No wonder Ezekiel had passengers hold their nose.
Caligula practiced global scale.
Everybody smoked the Schumann Rez,
Soaked in brandy, sliced to rounds,
dried in sugar, nominations lunge
down the hermetic Tree.
Do you want knowledge, do you want power?
IED to fairy tale.
Akron and Gaza would not dry out.
Manhattan not drive out doubt,
L.A. worshipped the stars.
The convention was a Security Event
necessary to save the president.
Transcendent terrorists
rolled their lungs.
Or roll your own.
Mountain myths
made reservations argue this,
that shock and awe on homeland north
would wake the merchant stars.
Global captives shook
transcendence burst.
No enemy wants to eat a fig,
that grey dawn chains
with concrete trains,
the honorable men of No-Cleveland bought and sold.
Dissenting reptiles sang this song:
Concrete pop
space-garde Weiner
schnitzel mas!
infra mutants
Ghibbolath.
If this seems conspired with higher intelliars, techniques of consciousness, nucleotides, galactic organs, and mystery plates where Secret Service founded blood rites to amaze, then
Join the Brigades!
Dr. Rubino del Sur is a palantirologist of soccer. His alternate is Rubion del Sure. He has contributed to the Roden Crater. Caught for weeks at a time on the ice fields entails long frozen discoveries out of McMurdo Station. These outings are no justification for satire, but they provoke more. I sought you out because I saw JD Nelson mention his work there and I liked the name too. I have reams of material but this one got sent because I never did justice to the Republican convention of 2016. --I have another series where Cleveland falls into the ocean with the whole of Ohio--could it be from all the fracking?--but I spare you that, ho, ho. Anyway I thought just one piece would be the way to try to contact you. I suppose you know how rare it is that a face is put on any editor, so let your concerns bring you ever better material. If I can I would contribute, Yours truly, Rubion del Sur
Rubion del Sur-Norte. Warning, undergoing mass dissemination in those neighborhoods warranted.
The Reptilican
The revival in Cleveland had begun. Propaganda carried its head underarm.
Do you want knowledge, do you want power? Soak in brandy, dry in sugar and slice to rounds. You can roll your own or take this lozenge, better for the lungs. Such nominations began Our Convention that day, one day after afterlife began, in July.
Reptilian Platform
Mountain lions and wolves on reservations voted for the end of natural myth. Divers from submarine bases fought imaginary light. Shock and awe came to the homeland to disinfect, wake up the north, wake up the earth, but Akron and Gaza would not dry out, or Ashdod of dark night. When the gods returned, government pretended to be afraid.
One ballot replaced another.Transcendence among reptilians voted authority under the influence. Terrorists at Homeland kept people shopping.
Manhattan made desolate to drive out day, L.A. saw the global stars, went out to tread the clay. This convention is a National Security Event. It is necessary to save the president.
The convention sounded conspiratorial to all accounts of higher intelligence. Advanced techniques of consciousness, nucleotide templates, galactic organisms, mystery schools founded on drugs, magic, blood rites, visitations of spirits from the maze sat The Platform.
O Wal-Mart! and Pittsburgh, your cities of perfect beauty lament.
O freeways! O daughters! Nothing swims the brazen sea that swallowed worse. To Kedar, Eber, Bobal went ten million men with bloody brain.
WaMerika! cuttings grow!
Psygoats sprayed the Helium down to raise the Schumann Rez. Each night they fracked florescence down to people back to Oz. Spray whichever Pompeii crack disinformation caused.
Before the convention in Cleveland had begun, Reptilian leadership advised us to stay home. Only the Convention skippers could survive the Gog
rolling businessmen turned scarab. Egyptian syllabic mosquitos hummed the alien song. Passengers had to hold their nose.
The Reptilican Convention tasted sweet but was a bit thumperous.
You have to say it real loud.
Amadodana KaNkulunkule! Amadodana KaNkulunkulu!
to wake the future sleep so many hours. It was beginning summer when they raised a caucus. Everybody smoked the amnesifying strains. The best kept secret Dragons have more caucuses.
Disseminated reptiles sang this song:
Bridges pulled up space-garde pop,
Weiner schnitzel, nunca mas.
Infrastructure militants, politics, myth,
Eprison the G-cience G-hibboleth.*
“Say now Shibboleth: and he said Siboleth, for he could not frame it right. They they took him out and slew him.” Judg. 12.6
Graci, graci, tu, tu oo! Reptile People did the reptile too. Fish, beasts, fowl crept bands of roving iphones came in. Barrio electric ghetto magnets smashed boundary stones to statutes.
So many delegates feared none would know how to vote. Before the event, in 1876, it took seven ballots. That was Cincinnati though. In Cleveland the Crown passed the most clearly written law, They said the dead were Delegates on the National Mall.
Words raised light, rubbed them garlic pure.Bathed in heaven sounded the hermetic score. Caligula and Nero practiced this global scale insects opened the Convention Reptile tale.
Contact was made easier because of the nets. Contact’s predators were game. If you don’t want transcendence you’re of no use to the Transcendent Corps. Top poets wrote convention blurbs. The future was a stone.
Drive by Chicago's Sin.
Send Japan to Space.
Get out of Gilead. Get out.
What about New Darjeeling?
State lines broke the new earth skin. What about the LA dream? She buried golf courses that gave no place to hide. Newer sins were sent to forest land
where hung the D.C. London mayor.
We lost the sun.
Marduke downed the Dome.
That dynamo Merkel exploded ancient stones, lost innocence, pyramids, mounds. "Do You want it, Jim!" Do You want to overcome cold? Do You want to overcome you bugger? Do You want to suck bold?
Transcendent Ballots peepotted gates of mind. Chariots and trains, concrete barbs, global captivity shook merchant stars. Maple, Oak and Pine grafted with iron while the other hand gripped the brain The honorable men of No-Cleveland bought and sold.
No enemy wants to suck a fig but if you must Transcendent corps, fgovs and aliens pucker up.
Beat your breast Cleveland! Akron snuck out to sea. There goes Shaker Heights! The Secret Service has authority to restrict titanium. Potential rioting is surprised.
Join the Brigades!
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