THIS IS NOISE TROUBLE!
(olympian tribal happiness)
There is no wealth.
Viscacha-Bolerium*
a tied string
ravel-ling
alzheimer's bolero
the window closes
but siam
is still waiting
"tin canoo"
we made pictures
called houses
and for explosions
used distraught angles
which couldn't be used
to soothe a music
which doesn't include
daily road-kill
{See the Calculation go wrong..}
Mozart was "better" than "you"
or are you simply unaware
of the poetry of the aerosol nozzle
there is no more worth to it
or is it infinintely valuable?
even this means "I" am "HOLYGODTRASHNOTHINGNESS"
the earth is flat
(and neurons expect those things)
/from paper wings/
and the edge is a continuous factory
jetti-sioux-ning the chip-n-dales
along with the glue sniffing orphans
of mexico city
those sticky brown roses
whose feeble friction is a footnote
to vulcanization
Keith Tyson is not a poet
but i like his poetry
now check the real-estate prices
for Hawaii...
here are some objects:
Coons, Burton C
Cottonwood, Joe
Dutton, Robert L, [Rev.]
Morales Sierra, Luis Gustavo
Stein, Judith Beck
Totten, C. A. L
Turner, Capstan
[Aes-Nihil]
[British Israelism]
which don't say
Any-THING?
What basis this craziness?
What do you really MEAN?
I can't say it matters much to the Bolerium,
who was sunning herself along the Appian way
like some furry Diogenes
when some Chariot squashed him flat?
Your gift of Dignity
will not stop the juggernaut
but then
NATURE=NATURE
I don;t believe any of it..
DON'T EVER
{please provide some objective physiological criteria'
a solition w/ frame {social victim meat}
yours,
draft-dodgie, reluctant info-pollutant
*August Pound experiences Murphy's Law
(ok, do that..)
