Keep Tokyo Weird.
I’ve got this
Lemon-Flavored Melodrama Eating Felon-Greeting Teleprompters
while Stark Art Sharks Started to Bark At Clark Kent At Wal-Mart In Karts From Afar.
Tangible Granules the Width of Mandibles Withstand Cannibals with Manuals wearing Flannel.
Salacious Slaying And Loquacious Playing (Ft. Spacious Fillet of Wing)
Splidiferous Indiffernce that Begets Sueperflous Pittance, and yes, I’ve stood alone.
The Effect Is A Hex And Isa Affects The Texas Arrest
Splitting Dripped Tips While Pushing Tipped Ships over and over again, over and over again
And yes, I’ve stood alone
And yes, I am reaching
When Gradual Sebaticals Become Radical, Be Calm And Infalliable!
When Torrents Warrant Florence, Rent Warnings & Florescent Floral Scents;
When Copies of Capris Experience Coffee For Free Grand Prixs;
When Faces In Capsules Ate Their Encapsulated Fate & Financials;
I did it over and over again!
and yes, I’ve stood alone
and yes, I’ve been reaching. can you tell?
Then the Abrasive Racist Meets the Racist Bassist During Phases of Homeostasis
self-aware, i purport
“And The Gimmick of Lymerics Glimmers”, and I could be sick
but I’ve done it over and over and over again.
Honorable Mention: Unruly Collagen Dueling Collleges Therein Dually Collage Theremins for Thin Mints
This tiny (micro)
World (cosm) of language (glota)
Again, I am reaching [for it]
by antonio n.
I knew her name, once
I still recognized her.
After three or four years in
A new city where dancing was
Second nature next to the record player
Revolving strains of Jeff Mangum.
A world drastically disparate from
What we knew.
Same cropped black hair a
Little longer than when you took
Scissors to it to eviscerate the
Smell of the Lucky Strikes we
smoked like manufacturing
Building up her proportions with a
Little pudge resting at the same ratios
I remembered our conversations about
New horizons and moving out of
Texas instead of lingering in cities
Hope betraying sensibilities
In bed drunk and asleep with my hand against
Your neck even after I’d moved on to
A postscript of averted glances, an
Absence on a small college campus
Singing hymns of confessions from former
Friends rallying against the kind of person I am.
I still recognized her.
Out of context and conscious of what
I discarded the guilt remains in
Feints and immorality while my regrets
Make me a monster for no more reason than
I can’t remember your name.
Good Sunday, sharkfriends. Here is a poem about the near simultaneous deaths of a close acquaintance and Kurt Cobain. Both via self-inflicted wounds. Sorry to be a bummer, but tomorrow is Monday so you might as well be prepared.
Yeah, they are…