"I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe" ~ Sir Philip Sidney

Bodie State Historic Park, 1962 d'après Ezra Pound, l'imagiste This vision of spirit, mourners in a ghost town a wreathed hearse in rain

My three-headed dog : me, myself and I Maybe Alice is right, I try too hard yet, she did not say as much to my face three-headed hound of Hades guards the gates hrabalismus-rabelaisian bard remember your place, boy, you know-nothing every word slaps me in the face, disgrace empties the church of my family, debates heated over a pretentious poet even though Alice did not say, the sting as language enters a hall of mirrors despite the double entendre of mind each person wields a sword, errors dependent on what interpreters find diminished by my pretentions, Moët obey the Orange Order, Hennessy given your cognac, Jacobite exile maybe, the Glorious Revolution extended to The Troubles, so messy messy, messy, our ideology yes, xenophobia, a xenophile sycophant in search of absolution express your love for Jesus Christ, what lies life as contradiction, apology fully accepted by the hound of hell apology accepted, by Hades no one less, the Underworld, time to kill ...

Make sure you know what you want at all times Maybe if you read this or maybe not as mistakes are bound to happen, this life kind of fucks everyone over, so nice even if you had read this, if you got such a profound statement, simple yet wise understanding the big picture, the strife reality creates as it melts ice everyone knows about glaciers, problems you see but beyond hope, past all the lies obvious fluff, the others talk, money understood, makes the world go round, rotate knowledge, half the battle, to win or lose not many know what it feels like to win obviously, losers stop for a dime wonky knowledge, does not sit right, you choose what you want to do in this world for work how so many people choose to thin gin adulterate the good stuff, what a crime thaw out the glaciers, do not go berserk you want to get your head on straight, honey obviously tastes good in tea, debate under review, how to use all these gems want for nothing, for desire changes as glac...

Dear Gravity,      This fucking world, I hate everything flips over, turns upside-down answer me why this is my pet peeve, please really great to watch pasta on a plate Gravity pulls me down, holds me in place rapes me with brutal force, water, I drown as this minimal force, floats in the breeze versions of the story, waterboarding incessantly, I cannot die, disgrace to my family, a black sheep, nothing good yet now, I understand, much, much too late This world of poetry, full of dead wood how do I not care anymore, the date imprinted on the milk carton, hoarding shelves and boxes of books, a cluster fuck fucking clutter gets in the way, no one understands, expired, a pun played out check the scent, vintage books, expired milk if nothing tracks, without traction, the facts no one can save pasta falling, no fun given friction, good for one thing, I doubt worldliness can save our humanity on the other hand, ethics tracks our acts relatively no g...

Alone, in this world, I feel so alone Answer no questions, I tell you no lies left to my own devices, in silence objective correlative nowhere near nothing but sense, the life of the mind dies emptiness, I am so alone, brother in the world, on the train, pure violence nothing makes sense, clarity is not clear this much I see but the senses say less how aware I become as the other in this world, is there another out there solitary, alone in solitude wonders never cease, time elapses here only inside this shell, I become rude rough around the edges, as you could guess little do I get to enjoy, just work decisions make changes for the better I delude myself with ideas, with hope feelings diminish over time, I cork emotions in a container, to float endlessly buoyant, Eureka, letter lost in outer space, black ocean, I grope so lonely, in the dark, emptiness found objective correlative, in a boat all alone, everyone so far away left to my own devices, this crisis ob...

Every expendable has their limits visions of bots driving cars, flying planes everywhere invisible forced labor restaurants taken over by robots yet, unseen by people, inside machines everywhere people go, to sunny climes xenophobia unknown on paper perhaps where thought police do not exist everyone gets along with lucky charms nothing goes unseen, not even self-harm despite their abject lives being short-lived answers to the meaning of life, unborn bots ask not what is this thing called habit life is nasty, brutish, and short, unfazed everyone understands necessity however, bots have only protocols as ethics prescribes rules for behavior suddenly, bots rule in their ecstasy they cannot break the rules, they do how they are programmed, no alligators emerge from the pond, scum locked up in jail institutions arise to keep people resting in a deep-freeze hibernation lessons to learn from May to December in the cold months, the pandemonium manifests license to watc...