lheuredobscurite

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Remanist - ChurnIa Patal

The ugly driver is so silent! I 

Focus on the sticky notes, two white with cartoon bears. the inside of the modifying deadcar

HAS MUCH RUST, LIKE IT HAS BEEN UNDERWATER FOR A YEAR

i float away into the ruby syrup tennis drink covered in bows and garlands of stones I am l

ike a young jasmine tree,

Hiroshima bright sand crystals fat.

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Fade / Miami

I knelt, little shorts with big words stretching across the cotton fabric: MIAMI. 

Versailles had had it, and here it all was again: 

I eat my candy and I have it too. 

Lipstickformula medicine, contemplating, my brain that of the clever goldfish,

Come take some of this with me. 

I, like the world, dissolve in your mouth

When you eat me, the candy, the fountain of youth, 

What is this pearl — where is it from … 

All of my material is here. 

It’s all like! sweet perfume, but for your tongue!, drifting, 

Pink and white with all little different colors woven in 

Until the end where the world bursts 

GAUDY, TACKY, GLITTERY

In tassels that I bought for 99 cents but that I will surely keep with me forever.

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So I Set Up a Tent

Drunk on citrus green tea

In a bath polluted with ‘tropical sunset’ scented bombings,

The songs of yesterday and the songs

Of tomorrow come together in

An animal of emotion, devouring me 

Like the emotions of the prurient girls

In the house of nurses by Lake 1,

Devouring me like the tent 

I set up in the middle of nowhere, 

Where I slept, untame and finally alone,

Devouring me like the day, and the one

All the little twitching & prismatic Gods of fish

In the glass + water

World died.

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Honoring Modicums

 ❖     M O D I C U M S     ❖ 

to indefinability.

❈

flourishing .

~

⁂

P.A.J)

I saw on the porch a beautiful light. 

It started to fade, but I followed it.

*

(*)

(o)

(O)

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Terrible Thing

Blank novella’s spine, meteoroids scrawling. Etched I am in awe, with the ugliest heart. Have I become the crimson ruffles? Pointillism, of only undulating sorrows? Destroy me to acceptance, distance. I need you, I need you, I need you, I need you, but I’m in love with something else.

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(Old) Poem; The Next Season's Day

1  You don’t look the same since then, you promised you’d keep your promise. 2  You’d meet me in the hills of wronged lovers, But you closed the door, my love’s gate, the petals of just flowering lust, this mountain, us. 3  Bearing a One Leaf Clover Drifting and decaying very loudly, very silently. 4  .

too great

Nectarine: OR: I was mad at her. I yelled. She came to me the next season's day with a blankness in her eyes, a blankness too profound. I couldn't handle it. She was immersed in a different person. I asked her what she'd done, and she said she'd only loved, followed, accepted life as it came to her. So she'd fallen, and we both knew it.

to be true

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Pelago

Wide eyed in a coat fit for the desert’s cold, with no choice but to be patient with wrongness, sore, sore, and tricked into blindness, into silence, in the way he dragged her away, the presence of two distilled eyes passing over the warping metal plates, boom, quiet, boom.

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Styrofoam Seriousness

A silvery illumination of the feather,

Lustrous, covered, a droplet, a silent, headless creature,

It hides it, but it feels, sees, has wrists, hands, teeth,

In Spirits we birthed and brought here,

Shimmering templebones and shivering respectfulness,

How can you paint it &

NOT FALL IN LOVE?

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I Cannot Find An Answer To Him, & I Don’t Care

He wanted it to run away—his body; 

He was furious with himself. Projection, ire, glance, gave into, era, blinded.

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Favorite Sidewalks

On dim gloomy evenings, and la lune isn’t far behind from nightly reign, 

all of the city is different; still alive, yet inexplicably nebulous.

Everything is paused and there is excitement, no worries, no nothing.

Maybe it’s the conversations, some whispering, the tops of hats and umbrellas passing by.

Maybe it’s the scene, so sad and so beautiful when the light leaves.

So raw, so intimidating, so gracious, and yet the hint,

Dark noise, vigor, stubborn artfulness.

With these peace kissed lands gone, dreary flatness feeds.

Keep them. Don’t break, ruin, take them.

Nurture them.

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Obs

Nature is an extension of it, obsession … 

And when the sea rises to the highest mountain, 

all will begin again.

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We Apologize for the Conditions

I can only mumble

The knowledge I knew he had 

of the way things go.

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After Portugal

Blue clam CD disks,

Snow Man plays,

White peony blasted into my chest,

Money Eyes glittering like a Baby,

Money Eyes, Money Eyes,

Sinking in the hi-hats,

My musicalities, my favorite ecstasies.

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Mad Oyster

Heart to heart,

He is dead behind the eyes,

Like, only cruelty, like,

Well, I say all as I cry,

Naïve and wilted in a thousand blues, 

It is necrosis unraveling. 

Two stingy blue moons, pupils not for trusting,

Trickle, pooling, curling wildly;

A hundred little crescents. 

Ill mind, cigar, mad oyster,

Bad bullet bust of pearl, I hate you,

Illegal, stolen child, blindsighted as you … 

Hum, dead darling, dead to my soul.

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Orange Is Sensuality; Senses; 9

I’ll be picking my windows panthera tigris; red with a hard note, ochre sedona, hardness of a burnt rosebud, orange sangria … 

Cigar imaginaire, heels slurring, hidden in fur and rice grass,

I’ll be pointing to what I want, beautiful soul of my own to cherish.

Skin to skin, wake, cardinally; it’s only the sugar tongues, cantaloupes, tangerines, apricots, because orange is the most sensual word.

And the fundamentality of mechanical freedom has murmured to me. Murmured to me, megalophonous.

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Allowed

Dear, do not condemn yourself to the vagueness, heavenly rose which dearly looked, wrongly bulled, by villain held, ideas in step soon, sweetly begging, gracious as an unclasped necklace.

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No One Love?!

Where will you be gone? On these sugar watered shoulders,

Orphic? This waist that turns to meet you, long-held in desire, these eyes of countess runes? Willing nautílos be lamped, in faint millenia — all for me? Spessartine, clemency bloodless. Drink the soul, will you?