titles

breaking the rules is harder than it looks

they're wiry and tough, more orange-peel sticky than banana-skin slick

how is it you found this place?

SaturnV

...rolling arches, a lit-stack datamatch made in heaven,
more slick nano than moorish goul...

I've made adjustments to the sync, it wont jam up so quick
Like ice-fire on Krypton?
Not this time, not this time
Something different then - an upgrade filament-boost
Tinkled with the timing, subtle but efficient
Interesting...
Nothing more than you would have done, in my...
Alright, let's out-face this and be done.

...skeet-pull acid triggers, a false-sealed double hull
of nomenclature and outdated metaphorics,
ringing heat-flares like a doublet in knife edge slack nights...

my, my - endless legs...
corporate biomeld - out of Seattle
pricey?
Not if you know who to -
Fuck?
Persuade...
Sure thing.
Same thing.
Not this gal

...movable feast, horror-box datacasts into hard space
out here, the time serves itself.
I've already pulled outer-time - drives you...

Away.
Something like -
On Stack?
Yeah.
How -
Long enough
See you in...then...
Yeah.
Yeah.

...lift out, gleaming haze and note-perfect slant,
Venetian interiors and mind-melds, nothing's quite
Saturn is it anymore?...

MH002

solar
inebriates -
portal grabbed a friend and swing
lucifer hops
new new new
novelty wine carved on tables where
children's conspiracies to frame each other
are ringed in ink
i was i was i was
here
on any tuesday night
I knew little of that frame
wood and wheel-turned acupuncture
do-it-yourself exorcism with
allen-key dreams
linked silk, tired italian whites
starched cuff-links screaming
i'm i'm i'm
that was just the chapel
night brings moody blues
midnight sea urchins
buried ancient monoliths
timbre drains upwards
slow slow slow
and each doorway is a dirge
to knotting little beaches
and flicker-map hurricanes
little did they know
up up up
i fought wet monsters
the kraken made me late
not got a letter
not this time
it's not that sort of date
low low low
several mentions does not a title make
lithe bodies, rimmed with squish
desperation pouring and pumping
make mine a double
*breathes*
that's not an option
until some dire alpha
numerous flight brings
archway curves to
my dark door

tidal

mute
empty whiteglow alphabet
take a photo make
practice tattoos
seething on
time taught syllables and
nappy-dark stains -
chocolate water and thawed muscle
and blood from somewhere.
how didn't the dust spill,
coruscate spiral fingers
wagging dissonance at figures
to long-gone character,
attempts at grass
white picket heaps
titter titter
mine and mine and mine
weep at buds and drip lush
chemicals - photosynthesise heart's
timetable.
forget a pair, shadow packed
like gossamer tell-alls in reading
trains, flush necks red in
sunday greens
how did this work
before?
after tidal lives found tidal ways to be

After Scanlon

You’re near, precipice falls

it just occurred to me to write

while I dream of you

soft white tattoo

elongated in defence of suns

you’re my more than this

seeping about m, in

every step of out-sole

worn like skates to hard

for parquetry floors and

double-dance doors.

A man, tall black

the mountain stumbled

struck from dark stars

in iron nights

I heard him talk once

enough for seas to moan

and you to slip away

I hear him outside now,

his hand poised at the

door

A knack – deep and ringed

old like firs buried in

ruined cities

An unfinished play on

one hand – dead white

tune the other. Count

me out of goblet crusts

and sandstone fires.

mine is nothing anymore

mine is nothing before

love’s bright bursting