Carrion Carry-on

Clarity piques uncurious minds and the curious do not accept the obvious. Iousness regards the ego favorably, splitting from exponential to infinitive. Graph your life and see dust, but live more than a picture and you'll be what you must. I spray instructions on pages because I looked for authority where it was authoring the text of my time. Read the dictionary? Encyclopedia? Lame fiction? All at the behest of the boredom you deinterdicted. Yes, I was confused as well; I had portmanteau sketches triple recursive negative, and how could anything but cynicism creep in as the locusts of no-control eat the previously flourishing fields of mind. Stasis body, underslept. Not a hobby, nor a crypt. The zombie purgatory, the betweenful sandwich meat, stuck inside otherwise good bread.

Human centered
species ego
special metal
decrepit specie

Crapulence for sale
two bits
or a smile
to nod existence
into its dark matter
black hole timeless mess


Not a wheel rolls by
without regret
for that which was crushed
by the medium's messages:
two birds live in a bush
they build a tool
and fight to the death

Single feather
happy accident
accentuates eccentric architects
who know not what they do

It's a scrape with bare hands on a cheese grater to undo the supposed greatness of civil I zat-ion. Societal subjects are objections to the vastness of other-than-earth. And yet, nearness bias. Rational ignorance. Logical infirmary for the wishbent bonebruised special hominids, whose overdone overnotions have overflowed the reservoir of otherwise safe foci.

Organize, though
shake foundation physics
to glass the cosmos
grass the barren rock
generate generous general intelligence
to rewind the decadent clock

The we tense 
pulls slack from bleakness
temporary continuity
for the downlowed
towngroaned
dream to gather more

Market fallacies
freedom ballasts
liberal polly crack[er]s
leviathan monster
whose teeth drip with
no longer innocent blood
all in the name of newness

(and power, 
did we mention con
troll?) it's [my] bridge
to outwhere
poutware
scaled and rooted out
from slow to every number counted

Poetry spits with the wind
to land from ridgelines
to the sleepy creek beds
whose dives divine 
the curves that prose
can only just describe

Undulated drive my car while I frame myself for spectral analysis. Irradiated, not my call. I just stand answering the phone constantly, adverbs and stalling and all. There's no pause in a day, twenty four hours and bragging rights, neither slowed down, never shown crown. Poets! What stochastic blather is this identity card? Random number generated for a little social security, I'll take one and pay in, and maybe mediacare.