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<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
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A curiouser and curiouser work of science-fiction narrative poetry<\/em><\/p>\n Condemning shadows quite. — A. & C.<\/strong><\/p>\n “Stop moping!” she would cry: “Look at the harlequins!”<\/p>\n “What harlequins? Where?”<\/p>\n “Oh, everywhere. All around you. Trees are harlequins, words are harlequins. So are situations and sums. Put two things together– jokes, images– and you get a triple harlequin. Come on! Play! Invent reality!”<\/p>\n I did. By Jove, I did.<\/p>\n — V. N.<\/p>\n <\/a><\/a><\/p>\n <\/a> * * * <\/p>\n <\/a><\/a><\/p>\n <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> A curiouser and curiouser work of science-fiction narrative poetry Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown] COPYRIGHT \u00a9 1998 PUBLISHED BY: BLAST PRESS His kind heart was obedient to truth’s troublous pulse. [*troubling] I have not loved the world, nor the world me; Never flattered its rank breath, nor bowed Patient knee to its pale […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1001002,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1768],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6776","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-venus-and-vesuvius","category-1768-id","post-seq-1","post-parity-odd","meta-position-corners","fix"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6776","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1001002"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6776"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6776\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7345,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6776\/revisions\/7345"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6776"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6776"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6776"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}} <\/span>\r\n\r\nGregg Glory\r\n[Gregg G. Brown]\r\n\r\n\r\nCOPYRIGHT \u00a9 1998 \r\nPUBLISHED BY: BLAST PRESS \r\n\r\n<\/pre>\n\r\nHis kind heart was obedient to truth's troublous pulse. \r\n [*troubling] \r\n\r\n\r\nI have not loved the world, nor the world me; \r\nNever flattered its rank breath, nor bowed \r\nPatient knee to its pale idolatries, \r\nNor coined my cheek with smiles, nor cried \r\nAloud in worship of an echo; none of the crowd \r\nDeems me one of such a throng; among them \r\nI stood, but not of them--- in my furled thoughts \r\nShrouded, which were not their thoughts, and had I not \r\nDefiled my mind, I still might myself thus subdue. \r\n \r\n \r\nBeyond a mortal man impassioned far \r\nAt these voluptuous accents, he arose, \r\nEthereal, flushed, and like a throbbing star \r\nSeen mid sapphire heaven's deep repose; \r\nInto her dream he melted, as the rose \r\nBlendeth its odor with the violet,--- \r\nSolution sweet: meantime the frost wind blows \r\nLike Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet \r\nAgainst the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set. \r\n --- J. K., St. Agnes' Eve\r\n\r\n\r\n<\/pre>\n
The Poem<\/h2>\n
\r\n\r\n\r\n<\/pre>\n
On this page<\/h2>\n
\n
[on Earth]<\/h2>\n
\n1
\nA tale strange, soft-focused, distant, then clear,
\nAs when a movie cures myopia, or a drear
\nNightmare that startles us, shelters;– or sordid dream’s
\nThematic shadows get ripped by a flashlight pen
\nOblivious to mood and setting. Such a tale, my friends,
\nAs Satan commences in blasphemy, with commentary,
\nBut listening saints can hear in holy choir,
\nI begin, here, with you, though it changes in an hour.
\n <\/a>
\n2
\nMy dark muse eyes me, sullen-silent as the night
\nWhereon with insect wings she glides, flapping late.
\nExotic quixotic, I depict her on my verses’ vase
\nInverting the immortality her throne supposes.
\nThe castled moon below her, she’ll glare on,
\nPast marbled Mars to veiny Venus, if she must
\nIn that post-lunar landscape sift gold words from dust.
\nMy dragged heart blackens and thuds its tars. What roses,
\nWhat Sols I scribble, she dictates. I am her pawn.
\nI am too mild-modest to unveil the thundered stars.
\n <\/a>
\n3
\nA ruined foil flashing back fabulous suns
\nWhispers lightnings in my wilted breath. Strip-
\nTeased away from the Ultra-nutribar I eat
\nTo aura languid limbs in rugged health, the slashings
\nShatter my dry attentions into balmy tears.
\nI teeter too near dissolution to feel the fear.
\nThe velvet chitter of my needleteethed pets,—
\nMy pens, my peers, my pellucid, inventive cheres<\/em>
\nPallidly rattle in the inky stand. They hold my soul
\nIn the slangy, charmed embrasures of their Latinate script,
\nTheir nibbed hubbub of syllables and shivery tongues.
\n <\/a>
\n4
\nShould I take up the Author’s patrolling pose?
\nHover ponderously, an editor’s eyebrow
\nAbove witchy Reality? Or ride, randily astride,
\nMy meditative pen? Amused, my muses?
\nPerhaps, a precocious Iago moulting mirrors,
\nI’ll lose my ahhing audience in appalling smokes—
\nA magician of the moment consoled by disappearance.
\nTranquil, lamplit in night’s lousy shroud,
\nMy selves assemble at the clarion bic-click
\nThat drum-taps my unruly soul’s tribal pow-wow
\nTo warrior order; even my fibulating, lying heart
\nCapitulates, fisting the spurious spirit-spear
\nOf its found rhyme, off-rhyme, rhyme again.
\n <\/a>
\n5
\n I sigh, my ruffian hearers, whose ocean silence beats
\nMy aching soul’s sharp shoals to eloquence;
\nI sigh, and, if you’d spare an ear to hear me,
\nTake my caddish, candied language from me; mug me!
\nOr, if you’d be voosh<\/em>ed to Venus, succumb to me,
\nTurn the cheap keys of your failing spirits over
\nTo me, a hoarse, corrupt rocket-car,
\nTar-catarrhed in ineluctable sin, and begin.
\nHarrum. I sigh. —Oh skip it, skip it!
\nSkip this daft narrator’s gnarly part;
\nSuch naughty nihilism ill-becomes me. Instead,
\nI return the guilty pearl of our veiled tale noir
\nTo you, viewers. Vide, lecte,<\/em> dears. Now start.<\/p>\n [on Venus]<\/h2>\n
\n6
\nEnigmatic clouds crimped a divine skyline.
\nLacy ices drifted on acid, carbolic pools.
\nLurid skies, vague purple or angst incarnadined,
\nShone on no birds twanging tangled lutes.
\nSpilled dusts of galaxies in staid starlight burned.
\nIntricate dusts hurly-burlied burning snows
\nBlown to walking nightmare by outre<\/em> genomes.
\nA fetid, festal energy spooned from sherberty clouds,
\nLime bright, or mocha coffee brune, or confusedly infused
\nWith venusian magenta, a trying shade
\nFor human retina unused to alien marvels.
\n <\/a>
\n7
\nAll this, and more: honey-blood serenades
\nOf ochre-aquamarine, a sheer fantasy’s phantasm
\nPoured the gorgeous poisons of a world of hues
\nOn our young, shiveringly young, hero: Absurdio.
\nHis tintinnabulating spine rived, racked with spasms;
\nHis single organism sizzled in Venus’ puzzle.
\nDown in an unpleasant dome he homed. Absurio dozed,
\nRuminating ruin on his quiet couch; half-deranged
\nHis tender head rested, like an exhausted comet.
\nSuch a new, human arrival among the strange!
\n <\/a>
\n8
\nSad years sequestered Absurdio to his mournful room
\nAlone, as only a circus clown minus patsy may be found,
\nLeap-frogging loneliness in life’s third, unattended
\nRing. His parents (in previous incarnations now
\nPhotographically enhanced) had evaporated by mistake,—
\nMeasuring tinselly elements at an underground lake
\nOf caramel kerosene, and smoking during break.
\nWretched, abused Absurdio rewound the fatal video
\nUntil their surprised incinerated faces aged to silvery frays.
\nAnd now, eons later, alone, adolescence pounced.
\n <\/a>
\n9
\nHis pubis, freshly ringletted with dirty thoughts,
\nLike a haloed moon arose. In the winsome autumn
\nOf recent nights, It came upright, red-shafted, huge,
\nA crooning bone pronged among wronged sheets—
\nA blushful lighthouse’s thirsty straw agog a spermy sea—
\nThe perfectly predictable consequence of testosterone
\nSpritzed by time’s Tom Thumb into both boy and man.
\nHis hands grew awkward, strong, with hardened palms.
\nHis bearding chin squared beyond childish qualms.<\/p>\n
\n1 0
\nHis curdling thighs unbundled boings<\/em> and sprang,
\nPirouetting poignant manipulated triplets
\nUpon the pulsing pointer of his moaning groin
\nAs he swam Pan’s ancient, ardent australian crawl awash
\nIn the Caribbean crucible of his sweat-swaled dreams;
\nHis sleepy teeth ground against giant, tiaraed teats.
\nWounded by his own desire, Absurdio spawned
\nUnseemly lesion-dots on his knotted pajama bottoms,
\nPaler than the snaily paisleys already winding there.<\/p>\n
\n1 1
\nHe cramply encamped in a humid, drenching tent
\nAnd coughed awake still aching, torqued in shrunken pants.
\nHis furring, burgeoning body’s once lucent form
\nClouded toward stormy adulthood’s horny, knuckled norm.
\nOnly the marginal innocence of his virgin lips,
\n—Pouted to receive an apparition’s dissolving kiss,—
\nRetained their fulsome, petulant, purplish childishness.
\n <\/a>
\n1 2
\nIn the hell-lit incline of his velvelour lax-o-boy,
\nOne saw a cowling shadow parachute slo-mo from his skull
\nIn the delineated darkness of a filmed dream.
\nHis silent eyes, closed to heaven, endured
\nA durable pair of bug-ugly goggles, snapped
\nPrimly in place by a pinkish plastic tether at his ears.
\nHis nimble, impaitient thumb drubbed adagios
\nAgainst his impaitient, tempted temples. Ohs
\nYawned from below his sweet, nasal declivity;
\nThe VR headset warped, a double bow upon his brow,
\nPoised to twinge and whang its dodgy target,
\nThose red circles centered on just one misty wish.
\n <\/a>
\n1 3
\nThe see-through water of his ice-light heart,
\nFuel-injected by the rude roar and vodka-boil of sex,
\nWas doubled in the VR goggles’ shotglass apparatus.
\nIn tonight’s tittering iteration of his single,
\nSearing dream, where was the girl, the She? Let us
\nScan the fake, pick the pixels, lozenge the rengas
\nOf programmers’ pop-eyed loops, swallow suns
\nOr do whatever, whoever, however need be done
\nTo spotlight in life’s divided cell the primogenic One.
\n <\/a>
\n1 4
\nCold skies collated from his wish-index nipped him.
\nAn earthly Arcadia appeared; a galvanized valley
\nTinny under aluminum heaven, was sourced
\nFrom whacked smacks of aberrant bits of static,
\nEnhancing his whims with imagination’s majesty;
\nInverted mountains, tipsy on their starch peaks,
\nRanged still lakes loaded with shotgunned verbaneum;
\nMossed redbreasts creeped across the angled lawn
\nMooing at woodpeckers who chewed trees of lead;
\nStar-flowered vines screwed absent-present oaks of air
\nAnd purled like invisible trellises, going nowhere.
\n <\/a>
\n1 5
\nShe, the sphinx, the minx, discovered was,
\nA downcast abandoned statuary whose ass ascends;
\nA shadowy mute among the academic ivy’s gloss,
\nHer stiff stone skin was one exquisite blank
\nCompounded of rare lights bleeding as they fell
\nThrough other, farther, fainter taintless lights,
\nDefining whiteness. So, above. As for below
\nHer nether half a blue fluid ink remained,
\nA disfigured shadow semblance that attached,
\nA skittish circus tent, to her body’s upper whiteness.<\/p>\n
\n1 6
\nHer maiden, sundial, shattered hand ticked up,
\nAn apostle pointing at a sky-blue book,
\nShafting through Nature’s monstrous greenness
\nWith a simple whiteness summed of simpleness,
\nAs if to spill a bell. Attendant hours tolled
\nCumulus-slow through soft forenoon’s sways
\nMomenting toward the slave existence Absurdio had always
\nIntended to be hers. His cola-fouled breath he held,
\nDithering her splendid image with his swan-soft,
\nSlightly perspiring palm atop the swervy curve and cup
\nOf the alarmingly mobile, docile, swift control ball.<\/p>\n
\n1 7
\nA lonely cloud, flumed crimson, bounded by
\nThe imitation-shape of her complex suavities,
\nHalf-geared to swell a summer rainstorm’s tears
\nIn puddly, ploppy pluvial benediction upon
\nThe evil coeval heat of his hot delirium.
\n“O half-groped, untouched, doped isotope
\nOf this radon-free semi-demi-reality! All if, if, if!
\nWill you never swivel or pivot ever
\nFrom your smooth stagger-pattern on the TV
\nIn vivid splinters? A decadent Miss’ shaggy quiff?”
\n <\/a>
\n1 8
\nAbsurdio was shanghaied by his consciousness
\nTo a heroin-incertain fairyland of ifs. Poor Ab!
\nNo angelic integers or numeric mumbles ever spazzed
\nOriginal anger or new-budded love
\nFrom the mutant look of her elect electrons’
\nSeamless electric face. Thrill and chance,
\nThose boiling bodings that hurt the nerves,
\nBraked their roulettes and rollercoasters, moped —
\nExiled by inconsequent conquest’s certain grace.
\n <\/a>
\n1 9
\nNever would one lunar hair of her crisp coiffure
\nSplit off, twirl, or dangerously dawn orange
\nLike the burnt inhaled singe of a spliff. Never, p’fft!
\nAll love was dead, desire defunct, hissed flat
\nIn the monumental deflation of the sure.
\nWhere was to be the wrenching fix, the heady remedy?
\nWhat cure could toy his totem-world to stark reality?
\nAbsurdio plunked his whole mind in his heart
\nAnd thought. And thought. And thought. Could it hurt to pray?
\n <\/a>
\n2 0
\nGenuine Absurdio in patient prayer genuflected,
\nIn patient prayer did patiently inspect his knees;
\nAny glance listing against those lucent eyes
\nSaw God reflected, a profounder Blank in blankness.
\nDeep in the gothic fundament of their tombs
\nResponsive saints spun shriveled, shrived cadavers
\nTo hear the holy moistness of so undevout a mouth
\nSpout “God.” And yet, no rent heaven yawned
\nAnointing him with day, nor remade what he was,
\nNor she, the ecstatic static and the playful clay.
\n <\/a>
\n2 1
\nAbsurdio resumed his restless tour
\nOf the prismatic computer’s chilly rainbow rooms:
\nPhony noon presided in tangerine, heart-rending hues
\nOver the local, erotic focus of his loves.
\nA spouting, sympathetic cloud maneuvered near
\nAnd passed on again into frisky sunshimmer;
\nA clammy aftertouch of lemony shadow lingered
\nOn the moat-dark undersides of fractal leaves.
\nSnoring backwards in his spraddled chair
\nSilly birches flickered streaked with oval droops of cool,
\nWhile galloping Cupid’s reigning love-thoughts trot
\nDown his sleepy cheeks and trace
\nA crystal bridle drawn by drool.
\n <\/a>
\n2 2
\nA strain, a stain was upon everything like black snow,
\nAnd felt more wicked ice within his stalactite heart
\nThan raw outward aberrance dared to show.
\nAn iridescent darkness, a deepness of absence
\nSoiled the unpointoutable apparent to his witness soul.
\nHer dimpled elbows, simple bends, digged
\nInto the soft argyle turf with wounding runes.
\nIn her empty, happy lap, sidelong sifted sapphires
\nOf quiet light dashed and spilt their milky stars,
\nSpattering trace evidence of some slight, damp want.
\n <\/a>
\n2 3
\nAstronaut Absurdio tumbled,— uncapsuled, lost
\nAmong Beauty’s forlorn flotsam, a jetted jerk
\nWhose sour foreknowledge coffin-mittened dripping hands
\nClenching and unclenching in a madman’s clasp
\nAfter stark Snow White who twirlled eternally repelled
\nFrom the lurching, avid lunges of his untutored touch.
\nThe magnet-magic that created her kept her from his crush.
\nThen his naked, nasty, gnarled, marooned left foot
\n(Or was it thonged and handsome, a Greek god’s ped<\/em>?)
\nIntruded, thus, into the afternoon’s spooled storyline.
\n <\/a>
\n2 4
\nDesire freeze-framed him in his vouyer’s foyer,
\nA randy stallion-statue displayed above his mare,
\nPlumply morose in his recreated shyness, same as ever.
\nWhat further use was doubt— unless by addition’s error
\nHe wished to subtract himself? He became devout, dissevered
\nAll annoy of anguish from his mirror-minon
\nDunce, each ounce. His on-screen he was there, here,
\nThe really reel, real deal. And yet…. (and yet!) And yet,
\nThe wet, generated earth still presumed to bountifully bouy
\nHis calculated weight. This dream ‘he’ within a dream
\nDispersed his doubts of truth with hopes of joy.
\n <\/a>
\n2 5
\nPeeping through a hiked skirt of curling Alpine pine,
\nAbsurdio sunk binoculate eyes against her buck
\nNaked, pale, and blue-washed bod, drunkly tipped
\nAgainst Venus’ fin-de-fawn and sine curve vale.
\nA sun-crouched lioness, but blue-lipped, she lay
\nKeeping her cold secret, at once lit hottentot hot
\nAnd known freon-cold to the potential touch.
\nOur boy, the trembling man, only then began, at first,
\nBy frittery extentions of his film-self to engulf
\nHer palpable sides with his ghost’s caresses.
\n <\/a>
\n2 6
\nShould he bridegroom first with attendant touch
\nHer shoulder made lemony by sunlight, sponging his lust
\nOn what was some Venus Eve’s first, bitterest, citrine brine?
\nHis space-gloved hand went floating toward her
\nSide,— the sly, slippery side nearest, dearest him.
\nIntermittettent abscences were eradicated, bit by byte,
\nSolving sober Zeno’s ouzo-drunken paradox
\nIn the gross, closed glance of Absurdio’s dreaming eye,
\n(Though God’s ultra-fine squint might more acutely stutter<\/em>)
\nCloser to her faux female beavery smoothness
\nBy pixel-quantum amplitudes of dotted light brightening
\nToward the ultimate touch of her molten shoulder.
\n <\/a>
\n2 7
\nHe touched, or his seeming hand seemed to touch,
\nA pebble-cool graininess of skin for one firm instant,
\nAs if heaven had been reached by pounce and poise;
\nThis hesitant touch faze-shifted to a hasty dissolve
\n—Sugary sands sifting sinuously
\nThough tightening fingers crooked to close at last
\nAn empty angry fist upon her nothingness. He gasped!
\nA hatted rabbit in a worn mauve waistcoat laughed;
\nIts albino eye from a daubed laurel’s closure
\nLaughed, as that funny-bunny Fate has always laughed
\nWhenever overreaching man guessed his guesses sure.
\n <\/a>
\n2 8
\nThe furred head, moribund, profound, turned
\nAnd spake: “What neglected nail spurs these pauses,
\nPulling slurring the nimble wiggle of our narrative thread?
\nDo I skip a blip in my story, hoary hearers?
\nHas consumation’s consumme soured to confusion?
\nFlip back a windy, lefthand page, sages, and see.
\nReturned, dears? Me too. I’m here, waving gravely.
\nTain’t so easy to dismiss a self-eulogizing myth, is it?
\nThis story’s story is insular and thick with tricks.
\n <\/a>
\n2 9
\n“Forgive my flash of hubris, while I loiter to insist,
\nExonerating myself like a murder defence’s memoirist:
\nBut I’m guiltless, guiltless! My omniscient narrator’s
\nRumored Diety is in fine effect. I’m winged
\nJove-King of these greek acres of pasty pages.
\nBored of my bon homme odyssian maundering? Well, then,
\nPage down, my d(r)ear, inscrutible cherubs,
\nPass my unflattering flounce of digression’s procession
\nAnd surpass in a click the dark prow of my tale.
\n <\/a>
\n3 0
\n“I wonder just what happened to this merry pair
\nThe He and She of everyone and everywhere or when
\nDuring her gentle dissolution’s final cue?
\nDid she, nameless, moan cognomens in the approaching
\nPinch of his garrolous, approaching claw?
\nDid she shudder like clawed rainbow trout when she saw
\nThe roaring boy-bear’s troglodytic unencumberd maw
\nLathering after her innocent, undressed tresses?
\nOr did her thin skin whip him, a scorpion pinned?
\nDid formaldehyde smear her wincing sides?
\n <\/a>
\n3 1
\n“What catastrophe’s haphazard track did they pace,
\nHand in hand around the rosy road’s fated bend
\nSkipping to some bland fabulist’s quickly scripted ‘The End’?
\nAmong what sunset’s sullen yellows did he reap
\nHer raped, awakened wheats, if he did? Or did
\nShe winnow her weeping self away, flossed dust,
\nEre his sly scythe could sigh thro’ her flaxen fields?
\n—But, I’m done with this stuttering narration’s
\nNervous tick, and clock you back to our mainline’s<\/p>\n
\n3 2
\n“Timeline.” Absurdio sighed against his hammock’s
\nNarrow netting,– for so much potential so absolutely lost
\nMust give one pause. His ungainly goggles
\nCrested a slicker pate, slid syruped perhaps,
\nOn a ski-slope nose crinkled at some sodium
\nOdor, or perhaps a tinge of things ranker and fainter.
\nAbsurdio cursed. Gangly in her dropped socks, her half-
\nStrangled form performed, in soliel-licked imagination,
\nAstericked tricks beyond conception. —A-hem,
\nThe sinuous mystery of that trapped tadpole, Desire,
\nIncreases in the pale, ectoplasmic tale below:<\/p>\n
\n3 3
\nAbsurdio, desire’s soldier, soldered on
\nHis mountain-rhymer’s gogs again, divinely tighter
\nTo his thrusting skull, blotting out svelt Venus’
\nAmbient, intermittent light. Slowly those eyes
\nSettled into stellated iris-wideness, as inside
\nHis interior landscape darkened by degrees,
\nAnd nightrise, calm and serene, came caressing
\nHis openness with her ever-maiden obscurities.
\nHe scanned half-doubtingly about. And she
\nWas there, scarcely visible, a luminous intrusion,
\nA pressure of touching light that arced and ached,<\/p>\n
\n3 4
\nSpilling balm into the mini-labyrith of his brain.
\nThe setting exactly trite and tragic as before,
\nRessurrected when he thumbed ‘Restore.’
\nIlex trees, or their avuncular, venusian
\nMulberry mirror doubles, dappled lashy elongations
\nOn the foreshortened, deforrested ground of his being
\nIn leopard blotches. His smaller, computer-generated
\nSelf stepped sprightly a miniaturized horizon,
\nLent a tightrope-walker’s lightness nightly
\nBy a sparse, spectacular gravity that doubled
\nThe veiny, vulnerable, fluer-de-lis neck-lengths
\nOf the arising flowers that haunted dawn. <\/p>\n
\n3 5
\nHer (was she warm?) form poured in oblagattoes;
\nHer breasts’ concupiscence floresced and finished
\nIn attentive nipples; he shivvered, diving
\nInner-spacewards again, unstoppable, blushed
\nBy the program’s thoughtful prop of rose backlight.
\nA soapy sigh scrubbed from his bubbling lungs;
\nHow he tautly longed to eye her mufflered infinite!
\nThat which hung encoded, skiffed and scudded, behind
\nScratched cataracts of her teeming, purblind eyes.<\/p>\n
\n3 6
\n Created conscious again in his dream-ripple,
\nDelux-outfitted in apple pants and a velour-
\nLined waistcoat swarming with swan buttons,
\nPotted and puffed, germily germinating Absurdio
\nBloomed, attempting the Tristian romantic manouver
\nBut abandoned by the stern narrative frame
\nOf a contrite Christian’s uber-grace.
\nHis hands, as pawns, nakedly displayed
\nHis emotions’ opening gambit in a dream-slur
\nOf utter lovliness. He touched, she shuddered,<\/p>\n
\n3 7
\nAs if to dissipate, a distraught wisp
\nOr shy butterfly flittered from a lepidopterist’s
\nUrgent lurch, more cuffed than coaxed;
\nA cranky collapse inaugurated by the drastic lack
\nOf available, unavailing, RAM space.
\nShe shivered, but held. Her spongy shoulder
\nUnderwent a faint shimmer, as if conscious-
\nNess were being beamed aboard. Her patient skin
\nWas still all ash and shale, but her awaiting hair
\nLost its stiff crispness, gained a honey-tone
\nAnd the delectable bubble-bounce of “body”.<\/p>\n
\n3 8
\nDeciphered sounds now entered her transparent ears.
\nA distant bird minced its watery treblings
\nWith the gorgon terrors of her first, lurid heartbeat
\nIn her registering brain. A pale breath escaped,
\nAlthough Absurdio would’ve sworn he had not heard
\nAny inaugural breath tipple and enter. Her eyes reared
\nTo know what stun had touched her as they flared
\nInto wet, instamatic life. Their pristine prisms
\nSocketed a world within her newly permeable skull.<\/p>\n
\n3 9
\nYet where was this wizard woman’s twinkly spark
\nAmong all the engrossing chaos of her fabulous mass?
\nHe had not yet eyed within her eye that smarmy,
\nHuman cloud of becoming fogging her skyey iris
\nWhich marks troublous love’s trembling, intrepid step
\nContra-distinct from lisping lust’s insipid limp.
\nNot yet, not yet. His playful paradise was still
\nToo innocent in its ivied, idyllic clarity
\nTo boast of that human ruination dubbed Love.
\nStars crossed gaily, like kites, in night’s meadows above. <\/p>\n
\n4 0
\nThere was always some sort of gangly changing going on
\nWithin the weathery swirl of this inner world
\nBeset by the dramatic setting of Romance’s
\nHurrying hurricanes and tortorous calms.
\nHer addled belt slipped at his toying touch
\nTo couch in the creative vulcan valleys
\nOf her slippery thighs. His dizzy head
\nDanced, lassoed with animate, singing stars,
\nAs in Disney-visions where cool cutlery
\nCarols hausfraus and bold boy hunters subdue, solo,
\nLugubrious bull-moose. He was in love, she lived!<\/p>\n
\n4 1
\nA freckled Mrs. Frankenstein whose veritable veins
\nPulsed bloomed beads of blood up her supple neck.
\nLiving swans lounged in her frowning brow;
\nHoney lozenges waterfalled her scuffy alto
\nInto azure pools of purer contralto. She spoke!
\nHer new words, her first, purred: “Absurd—….”
\nBut he had already stopped her half-
\nArticulate baby talk with the sweeter understanding
\nContained in a kiss he hoped unending.<\/p>\n
\n4 2
\nHer happenstance phantom, her tech-lechery
\nSemblable, spasmed by benign self-deceit,
\nFlowered into frissoned being on his primped lips.
\nHe let the solipcistic kiss linger, linger,
\nAs a royal rosepetal will huddle on kinked, kingly lips.
\nThe gamey wind was game to applaud their parading,
\nClapping aspen leaves whose whirl on them was hubbed.
\nWhat they knew somehow was what was love.
\nOf the universe’s immensest aviary, they knew
\nThat they themselves were the central doves.<\/p>\n
\n4 3
\nFor this sceptred instant, grinningly alive
\nIn their sparkling cave and sprinkled spire,
\nAbsurdio and his girl were joyously joined,
\nTwin instances of some remoter, scumbled One,
\nIdentical startled arcs of a single desire.
\nA stately elm jigsawed the rooted stars
\nWith wagging shadows, while moonlit music tooted.
\nOh, they kissed and kissed until heaven split,
\nAnd split again in moody, Mandelbrotian, fractal fit.<\/p>\n
\n4 4
\nLove herself had jokingly sponsored their sparring war
\nOf embraces, each deep cincture tighter and tighter.
\nHer teasing taffeta said slurring, silken mumbles
\nAgainst his entranced hips burning rope-burn sudden
\nAt her cloistered damsel’s clotted knot veiled within.
\nShe did not hesitate, but with rapid hand
\nAnd palliative tongue urging extra surges
\nMoved with the remover to remove.
\nHad History’s grainy memory vouchsafed their names
\nTheir wantonness had been famous. As is,
\nThey tickled and tilted, strained and parted;
\nAnd strained again, until joy’s jubilant hulahoop
\nRattled to napping quiet at their intermixed feet. <\/p>\n
\n4 5
\nAnd the nasty narrator choked on their lifesaver
\nHalo (rubyfruitier).<\/p>\nfinis<\/h2>\n
\r\n \r\n\r\n<\/pre>\n
Unused Bits<\/h2>\n
<\/span>\r\n[for climax] \r\nOn her home-town Mon Venus, the swarthy pitcher mounts \r\n\r\nAgainst death's delerious impact and mossy Time's \r\nVerdant verdict, that takes back (not yet, not yet!) \r\nOur personal, rag-tag, tattered, hole in the ground \r\nWith wild mounds of lushness. Held winceless\r\n\r\n<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"