this camouflage
Posted by Rich Magahiz Mon, 21 Mar 2011 11:27:00 GMT
troubled dreams…
Gregor awakes to find himself
white
perfect loungewear! sun and self-loathing
always a la mode
this camouflage
of dark matter
towers fall – the ghosts all land feet first
a blood-tide
our squad respawns at
the snowball bush
one small cell far from the madding cow
the panic gangs
spit horror juice
joys grow formless
fatso slim weaned from antimatter
run, you hoser, hide!
right angles
to everywhere
pop idol her viscera on view
reedmen
purse an ebony kiss
the crip crowd froths
jug jug glug – kettleworks pissed the bed
engage reverse gear
last bride
for Precambria
up the downspout the platycheshire
shockingly male
under the greasepaint
the foundling
the lion, saddled. sweet dear eats rice
