LOVE AFFAIR OF THE CENTIPEDE & THE CHAMBERMAID
for Richard Cline (on seeing an old Union Carbide ad)
grandpa was an alchemist
a hermetic disciple
of the fly genitalia
a pacific theatre napalm chef
he drowned his decades
at the center for disease control
that hidden fortress &
temple of occulted scientism
he was
an arthurian knight
in servitude
to the great King Logic
but i like to pretend
that deep deep down
at 400x magnification
before illuminated eye
fly genitalia was transformed
into inky black vessel
writing line after line
of daemonic cuniform
tiny little dreampoems
& itsy bity calligraphy
letters tightly stretching
crisscrossing
along cold cold flyskin
O sweet musca domestica
recording your ancient cellscriptures
beneath his evasive eye
& then shyly evaporating
like it never even happened
occasionally
perhaps
when microscope was feeling particularly trickster-ish
a few “remote viewing” glitches
a few misplaced schizo-incisions
here & there
did open out to him the colorful panorama of hell
birthing vast multitudes
of tiny trance Creatura
who then did open themselves
to the gift of his knife
but do not weep for them
because under the eyelid of primate voyeur
all existence is slaughterhouse
my my
it seems the silent watcher was quite busy, in fact
for the watcher was birthing new worlds
& we never even knew it
those shifty conversations of his
those hints at a second,
subterranean existence
inside of a white, immaculate labs
perhaps
after hours
he would lay down on that alabaster floor
his ear to the sullied earth
& listen to the infinitesimal speaking in tongues
unfortunately
these hauntings
were left unreported
to the higher-ups
or even to his grandchildren
but perhaps
a hastily written
kabalistic travelogue
to his interior
still exists somewhere
or elsewhere
& perhaps
his phantasmagorical
mathematical absurdities
are still in circulation
somewhere
yes
& perhaps
a brooding
loner-mind
÷
a disembodied flysex
can somehow equal
the marvelous new
EROS INSECTA
but to me
he is still
unknown
& unmapped
BEETLE BAGS
body
is
surrounded
is surrounded
by
black
beetle
bags
by seven in fact
ominous fellows
a rare insect gold
found
on balinese shores
or dissected
under deep jungle
shadow light
strange shifty creatures
leathery & cold
one night
drunk high or mad
we harvested them all
& we stapled them together
you and I
we made little sacks out of them
& we filled them with our mud
& we filled them with our saintly childhood artifacts
forced them down the dark unwilling orifice
& pulled hard on the exoskeleton drawstring
we sealed them
forgot them
but now
i touch them
& they feel like hairless dog
i touch them
& they feel like catfish
all slimy & sweet
what a joy
to explore
this impish 13 gallon garbage gnome
I see
as though through abduction cyst
though extraterrestrial transmission
I see a blackbag sailing down the red sea
in an upside-down vessel
made of telephone wire
but the red sea
the red sea has become
a purplish grey sea
& the grey is smiling out at me like a fox
& the mouth is covered in millipedes
& the color is orange
THESE CONCEPTS,
THEY ARE RIVER-RUN
tiny equinox
time
way back when
time
i & she
we learn we whisper
we hear all about it
about a certain pastlife life
of mine
delirious & delicious
the creamy white filling
something someone
somebody
played at
inhabiting my “i”
danced himself deep
inside my spacial sweeteners
& he lived
as a shiny autumnal wind
& he died
as the denied equestrian
back then we go
to a time that didn’t exist
when my formulations my antithetical musings
my coalescing (s)
my eye (s)
were looking
peaking
& with transmutation or transference
i went through the pleasurable bluebody (s)
& into the feminine, liquidic
an entry point manifold
a denial gutted with orange blade
as sky hostage turned rain droplet i fell
towards that sweet running clearness
my voyage to the river
this was
& my very first deepening
because for me
the eye is the magic organ
the only organ
by which i may become un-ghost
& the water’s abracadabra
is everywhere at once
& everytime too
for with a belly wriggle comes the leaf child
& i became the green & prickly fruit
soon devoured
by hyena by kidney
forming both in the process
& I saw many things
in those ascending waters
I saw the obsidian walrus
& the rust-covered oak
I saw an epileptic moon
devour a polka-dotted crab
& I saw so many other things
swept away inside it
but it is at this supreme point that my memories end
& yet
this visionbody desires to follow wildstream further
desires a consummation of sorts
interrogates it opens itself up to it
& down inside the whitening waterwave
a clear discharge of joy
can soon be seen
somekindof glowing signalsign
somekindof furry aquatic syphilis
because the river has long fornicated with the wind
& it has left it many sicknesses
perpetually untreatable
by mollusk or by fawn
& yet we are all luck-stuck
for it has purpose it has desire
it consumes the entropy for the sake of the crystal
just like a friendly little water rabbit
the limbless burrowing blue-hare
really quite nice quite delightful
really a lovable blight
& yet
many men still sigh
many men still pout
for when they dredged up the ancient river
when they raped her estuary
when they dissected her saliva essence
they saw only the same river, magnified
its rivers all the way down they say
what a fraud they say
well butanyways
humanity is just a flowering corpse
joined under the sign of the mammalian gill
& it will soon be forgotten
that’s what river thinks
SATURDAY SHOPPING HULLABALOO
my big plush fatbody
my trembling obscene sensitivity body
he was ejected into the capitalist cosmos
just a few short hours ago
& O boy
that old
saturday shopping hullabaloo
all out & about
with the rank & file
mind-body softening
and/or copulatin’
with an ever-present sweetened nothingness
just a merry-go-round just a spec a turd
just revolving jelly
when suddenly
O boy O boy
let me tell ya
the big one suddenly hit
the dawn of
Holy Hallucination
here
there
& everywhere
but it was only a trial run folks
for these big blue eyes were the only two receiving signal
yes just these sad oceangoing eyes here
viewing it as it happened
the birthing of
THE INVERSE
& it’s operation felt so smooth
like sidereal gingerbread
like a yellow napkin
sitting on the lap
of our dear naked sally
mischievous sally
the unfolded caught unfolding
or like the epoch of imp
but to be fully accurate
to avoid a tall-tale bush-beating
or the wetness of the academic flounder
i’ll tell it straight
& i’ll tell it narrow
this dawning of surrealist thingamajig?
this prerecorded discontinuity?
it was FLESH FAIRY PARADISE
& I was standing right on top of it
right down in the middle of it
somekindof juicy Infestation Station
somekindof demented Fae altar
to the god of putresce
& those tiny little creatures
they gnawed so deeply
they turned my little pink baby toe
into a red bloody swollen toe
but they did so with pleasure
& i stood with pleasure too
for here all was pleasure
even a toe pain even a jellyfish algebra
& even a stray thought
could gain itself freedom
could cut itself loose
shoot hoops
here
& these blue lovereyes
of mine
these old rip van winkle eyes
they were embraced by this land
became like the love of flower for the skinned fist
& yet
fuzzy-faced rationalist
that you are
you soon whispered to me
asked me about the upper plane
about how they were getting along
up there
you wondered about the ancestral land
the land of poem’s origin
ah well
still just mall
grocery store
too-sweet candy shoppe
because a rabid sugar intolerance
is the primary feature
of every alien abductee
& way up there
in the blue
the cafeteria of alienation
is still run by dogface dog
the same old played-out circus
inside the marxist hippodrome
sick rats
on a sick ship
& other such banalities
but upon the lower—
there the ventricle is left open
& the carrion is wise
there the whole black hole mythos
is painted a bright red
& inside this deepening
our spiral of flesh
is sucking away
ever so gently
or not so gently
upon the haughty body
of the Upper Floors
in secret cosmic fellatio
our fleshspiral is imbibing thought
is reshuffling every this-and-that’s
a subtle influencer our heroine
soon
all that is corporeal
all that shits & all that eats
& every little bird
& every little bee
& every little organchild
from the stomach
to the spleen
shall become enchanted
& the domain of the anus
shall henceforth duplicate
into the warm infinity
& the flower shall devour the eye
DATA ENTRY ON STAR VESSEL NINE
Star Vessel Nine is a pea pod filled with black hole
They may be removed safely & will fit in the palm of your hand
They are globular & will feel like sun-warmed gummy bears
Though they are still inedible
Star Vessel Nine is the spirit of the distance of the line (between two points)
The above mentioned may be illustrated as follows:
the anus of the dog ————————— the iris of the king
Star Vessel Nine is above he-who-is-above
and above-that-above, too
<ha>don’t worry this computer is merely jesting</haha>
It also has a low breeding rate
Star Vessel Nine’s complex pea pod structure was formed under a blinding Egyptian sun
(the last millennium or so if computer had to guess) & cultivated with love & care inside the collective armpits of a well-baked early Gnostic sect called SCHIZMANDI (so placed because an abundance of perspiration was key)
Star Vessel Nine’s first playmate was a course black hair
Star Vessel Nine’s average life expectancy has not yet been established
Known Weaknesses of Star Vessel Nine:
• Like a turtle, the pea pod cannot right itself once flipped
• Exposure to mathematical paradox can lead to cellular degeneration
• Neutered specimens show higher levels of melancholia
A strong dosage of benzedrine may been prescribed in such cases
Studies show a success rate of 75%
—
Bonus Question
Which of these can grow inside a Star Vessel Nine womb?
A) a frog zeitgeist in movement
B) a tadpole on the march
C) a celestial desert baby
(The answer is D)
DESCRIPTION OF WHAT I SAW THROUGH MY TELESCOPE
the surface of sun is not flame
the surface of sun is intestine
I see
squishy-spongy
twisty tubes
I see
pink orb congregations
sew together as one
I see
an intestinal sun
precariously sustained
on darkmatter nutrient
& light is the byproduct
the waste it expels
LITTLE GREEN GRUB
little green grub
has lost his shoe
& little green shoe
has lost its lace
& little green lace
has lost its grub
and so on
little green grub
masticates with joy
& joy masticates with him
joy copies all his mouthmovements
because joy is unrepentant voyeur
& joy is insufferable hanger-on
in conclusion
little green grub
turns his spade
& his spade sheds a rainbow
for this was the season of the chromazoa
the waste it expels
SPRING DAY PROMENADE
i seem to be dropping flesh as i walk
bones turning to jelly
leaving scarlet & ivory slaughterhouse lines
just drippy drip dripping along, yes
and skipping along too
my exsanguination attempt
is giggling
dancing
across the Main Street sidewalk
a sentient viscera blob dreaming one last dream
in Cartersville Georgia
Mr. American Town USA
i’m on my way to Findley’s Butcher Shop
and it’s a meet & greet, y’all
i’m the traveling circus freak
and you all are invited
to come give me a taste
lay down in stickiness and be subsumed
within my human snail trail
behind the meat
and the bones are glowing
like cheap glow sticks made from yogurt
like a platypus raver’s drugdream
inside an Australian riot pond
like a speckled horse cock covered in green fungal rape
or the Pacific Ocean molded into gelatinous cube
and tossed inside the black-hole orifice of space mouse,
that devious cosmic mammalian
kept eternally high
on a steady drizzle of amphetamines & yellow squash
dripping from the mouth of a bellybutton lint-diamond
on one very surprised southern gal, sweet Henrietta,
her umbilicus unveiled to the world under the light of a shining roman candle phallus
on the fifth of July
ah
ooh
ooh la la
how’s it all end, grandpa?
The End:
body all gone
lost my yogurt bones, too
just popsicle
it’s a very nice day for a walk,
but since I can no longer walk,
or even roll,
i think I will spend the rest of my day writing invisible poems
you can leave
IRON BODY, METAL ROSE
for Jean Rollin
there is panic in fairyland today
two lovers are caught
in spiderwebbing of grey concrete
two lovers becoming shadow
meet redboy
a solar acolyte
who hides himself
inside himself
who shudders
in disease
who expands
like deluded caterpillar
meet yellowgirl
she is the yellow
that purrs out
from inside the black
the mirror that does not reflect
the last station the last stop
the final essence of a world
behind atom
behind quark
she is deepest jewel
in whispering movements
& vibrating fleshsong
she writes for us
a gothic bodypoem
in adoration
to the clavicle & the cranium
to each & every beautiful bonekid
brought up by shivering vampire
O absent yellowgirl
you bring this seeking little vertebrae
to the borderlands of ecstasy
between two blue thighs
meanwhile
silent death
that invisible watcher that kinky voyeur
is given fresh reason for discharge
his alabaster seed
comprising mainly of ghost
linger your promenade
yellowgirl
cast it out
across this delicate void
& bleed out in velvet
for yours is the face that oscillates
THE ROOM ON THE OTHER SIDE
let me take you on a journey friend
dark room
no ceilings
no walls
you see
2 spherical goblins
flattened
you see
1 elongated worm
puffed
you see
an obsidian goat climb a wooden chair
while the silver wind wraps an electron
if you ask this room
whether your fleshbody is unwelcome
it’s dead air no response
just the shriveled spirits receding
retreating
like a thousand tiny crabs
poor fellow
your pupil deepening
your eyelid convulsed
you have become primary observer
inside this vaporland
inside this shifting unseen
poor fool
you take it all in
above you
the echo of insect
inside cooling temperature
below you
rubber floor
with fractures sevenfold
& muscles articulating
within you
heavy metal gateway
on which is written
INXO
& it is by you that these letters are tasted
all at once
there is a jittering
a swaying
the white clothesline is pulled taut
& it breaks
her overripe boundary penetrated
in a flash of etheric pink
some vast invisible presence
filled with desire
is reaching out for one blue eye
is reaching for the beautiful blue eye of your face
collages by steven cline
CRAB BELLY
my belly is a crab
& so is yours
we taste this ‘verse with our odors
be spin it in the cotton candy fallacy
we drink it like a frog with no gullet
& grow patches
along the treasure of our fur
we’ve got a back catalogue of ecstasies
that we’ll never use
we’re a goofy mammal, yes it’s true
we don’t like to use the lavatory
even though it’s been filled with kindness
& we don’t like to squander a lick
we think a skinned llama
the epitome of style
but we’re afraid of the ensuing redstuff
cuz we don’t like liquids
prefer solids
hate gas
there nothing more trustworthy
than a good granite rock
we say
& nothing like a casual stroll among salamanders
to really turn the stomach
we’ve formed numerous committees
the anti-slime committee
the anti-wetness committee
the anti-CO2 committee
these committees take up most of our time
but eradication must leave no survivor
unsurprisingly
the non-solids haven’t taken this lying down
the mist often strangles us
will pour sugarjuice in our hair
brush off our toenails
& force us to take summer baths
the sight of epsom salt or the smell of lavender
for us these remain a trigger
to all kinds of negative memories
that we don’t think any psychiatry can help
& as for ocean
two or three years ago
just another
pleasantly bourgeois
family vacation
it was
bathing suits & all
when suddenly
we were rudely abducted
tied up by the atlantic ocean
& forced to eat sea foam
forced to listen to the erotic poems of a seal
& the philosophical diatribes of the clam kingdom
yes as strong ropes of algae cut into our wrists
we were forced to suckle at the teat of the deranged starfish queen
while six hermaphroditic sea snails recited their aquatic folklore
laughing
& the queen’s milk was as salty as the sea
luckily
after feeding she grew tired of us
& the rest of the aquatic fiends dispersed
cruel joke having run its course
all this to say
that the beach is a land of darkness & perversion
proof that water cannot be trusted
& that all moistness must be stopped
i burned my bathing suit on that day
& i’m never going back
FELINE
what is a cat?
a cat is spongy goosecake
the first childish inkling
of the existential tick
on the back of the flavorful tortoise
a transgressive hors d’oeuvre
a cat is also a flea
because
as everyone knows
the small is the large
and the large is the small
yes a cat is very simple, a cat is algebraic
but the mathematics do not sit well
in the belly of this beast
a cat knows many things
like how to skin a lamb
in order to play the flute
like how to operate a guillotine
in order to befriend the rose
a cat knows many many things
that we’ll never ever know
but anyhow
a cat is a cat
and that is that
