Avant-Garde

...he had learned to enjoy being recorded, had become, in fact, creatively involved in the process. The bugs were often his only witness, after all.

... wings that flash and
flicker in sunlight, pursued by
relentless squadrons…

The excesses begin to arise,
The seeds germinate at will.
This vegetative elasticity
Drains beyond the window sill.

Thanks to everyone who showed me support in the last year and the years before, I truely appreciated all the love from my fellow redbubble friends and wanted to say thanks. I also wanted to let…

Vainglorious Epiphanies
enthrall us with mutated ambivalence!

As cone-shaped generations generators
emit explicit explosions in boundless entirety

Oh rise my one-horned child of Deat…

Will someone not listen?
Will someone not hear?
I ask for understanding
Yet am confronted with fear!

That was when he heard himself saying, "Don’t I know you from somewhere?"

Someday words will lose their meaning,
when thoughts flow mind to mind…

The Corpulescent tendrils of automated time
writhe in the chaos with blackened churning rhymes
of clockwork makeshift skeletons

In 12×12 rows of clank-work appendage, tissue stretched to…

saw you
read you
loved you
put you on my altar
breathing
so hard
i think you fell over
.
.
a pea,
they said,
it was
t’other.
.
.
—juddarwin

Empty hands, making each man more of a man

I dreamed I drank those drinks of vodka
....................with Raskalnikov.
..........................Was it his
...............................sis?
............Dawson’s “Andy”? Or,…

its the other thing emails can’t help you with

... the ugly metallic sculptures that are lurking here, you know, on every single side-street…

From somewhere behind me in the empty room I thought I heard her low, throaty laughter. And then her musical voice said, vibrant and echoingly loud, "Wonderful news, James! I’m not human any more!"

Find your face tilted in the right light of a held up mirror,
always.

i do not have to out and float to the ceiling
look down to see the truth

Ode to the many sweet dreams
That saunter on November chills
The children are gifts like smiles
The wash between sun and downy leaf
So falling bliss hits are the eyes

In ho…