Thomas Lowe Taylor -- FLOUNDERED PLODDING

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FLOUNDERED PLODDING

Afar no meter mates, stuck bewobble
The fluster spinks no doubt within
But hammers out what's against the tide

Here in the manner, no meter to your maid
But clinging hours in rescind the heavier
Hours to claim to dance again and fast

Zero. Inhaled monuments to fallible hours.
The dusker boots aplenty, then fastens
Whoer floated then beyond nor halts.

Air. Dolt. Pincushion. Another attack
Art. Venue light meter. Attitude stacks
Ex-sharks; putative punishment latent.


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AJAX

Booter flan. I'd depressed down far enough. Held maybe; buttressed corn the name of the day you'd held me down from the inside. No helm is steering out, but still I call her name slowly. Cranberry clouds move quickly across my palm without answering dudes the moron tableknocker choir eludes mere spinty creamed outside potatoes the door the climax of which.

Simpler densities are the stuff of light. Here on the plane of inattention, here the musky divides are poled apart and wiled out enough cake of the birth. This is too far right now to go ahead. I'm tired of the bullshit, too, and wait for a real voice to penetrate from above, but in the absence of, the very innocence of, we'd settle for the real facsimile. Enough remonstrance, but let alone again.

Crafted pun a slippery indulgence ratfiled as quickly not fundament'd, nor heard without scores the doubt lessons are given on Wednesdays not the other way around, you'd say, you'd oppress not measure but democracy's unspoken commentary a currency pretense no structure a gradual diminishing of fog and 'niggardly' unreposessed dementia possess what's far too close to ignore. They heal in part time dancing where the television red recommence and hard to knock.

You never go back. Only stepping forward not possible to do otherwise slippering dormant yellow imitation of, or whatever described, not meant a detail would this becalm other spinnakers agronomy likens the dresser's doubt within her attitudes was not mentioned in ceramic dignity, the flowing acrimony not scalded lakes had a finishing hum was not Detroit streets the big beer bottle looming far above sidewalk shines her mocking slights as this would and not

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IL RASPITUNATE

Blows him down. Bare rap of undisturbed elements. That's how they leave 'em gasping for air the gill slits flapping like oldman gums. That'd been just a little too much, not made pertinent but slipped and gabbled a dusky definito was the loot of the day. Spent.

Still, I'd blown a carcass getting here. Afforded flutes and bennies. Yet the purple strain strained at her gussets in floppier dorks made alert to what's not unspoke in the rattle of now and then, still a hooper destiny in the works for all youse guys hanging in the winds.

It'd narratived forward like a moot snoot. This was the spanker dude, still in his forties but a narrow set of jeans leaning agains the bed. Not too much to smooth out long. A new grammar to the light lingo poled aside and let go like a speech that fails to move.

"What'd I say" you said. Or sang. Or shouted back across the denizens of the plank where a cool wind leaves you sagging inward a shout spun on your lips silent and blue where the Romans windows lean the sagging of your skin a lingering home of parts.

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THE BARKING DOG

Inside signs, you might say. Some occlusion in the dusk.
But it's hollow inside, a darkering bicker of night.
"Empty Within" you called it--
an inner state or a statement of fact?

It's a minor irritant, barking at everyone.
Maybe it's dog's way of talking...

A sign of the time, barking dogs everywhere
Just at the edges of hearing, a sturdy bark

In the dream, too, deep into night,
you drive, dogs trot up to the side of the road



dream on, you say, it's only a dream
the left ventricle retorts
two suck
spaaaah

binner-spine

no repute


would'd not occlude

butt knot fixed
likens out'd; thus.

Resistatrol (tm)

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AUTO SHAPES

Grounded out

Like leeks, like luck
Over in the hereinafter
Firred. Again again

Butt'ld fornicular

The pus or fome.

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SMOKIN

Such a death-trip wilderness
Suckin out there on the big nothing
You'd stick it in yr ear, if that'd help
But it's still all poison
You tell yourslf

Even a grandiose abstraction
Doesn't mask the want, the edge
But it's all over now, baby blue

What's supposed to help won't or
Don't or shouldn't or...

A drive for auto parts
Might soothe the day
it's blue all over
Even the moon
And nasty to the one you love.

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HEARTNUT

Asleep in winter's tongs
Held tight in a stasis--
Full moon or fool moon?

Doors wide open, wind swirling through
Not even March
Wait'll night time due, another last
To censor on the spans of rhyme.
This'll whip or mettle, not a mattter
Of time or its "other".

Give way again, held out and silent
Give the door another spin;
Depress me not but chewing gum
Inside the driving stain, er, rain.

Or, song.

Would'd not
But said or did

Would or not,
And this, too, to send
Or call inside,
At seam or sentence.

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ACRES DENSELESS

Your favorite words, one by one

The seamless journey
Inspired calculates
the moped brow
or forded underneath

He'd folded light alight
into stiffer formats
A rescue for the drama
unfolded underneath

Ultra-wided