100 Words a Day v.7

October 31st, 2012

Horrors either simmer or come out like horrible flashes of light:

touches against the words on the wall - words and words to identify the information sucked up by purveyors of platitudes - am I losing my hair - the word in the world as absolute by normal people - only defines, becomes, genuine - the cat meowing instead of eyeing the bird in your bed - this is home to you now - days of seeping water and blood rushing through the veins, we know how to react now - lights combined as a continual essence - five days long, nothing stays the same, the torture devided evenly

THREE STUDIES FOR A FIGURE KNOTTED AND UNKNOTTED #1

100 Words a Day v.6

October 30th, 2012

Anger like a subscription - 

we toss the flesh like so much silly putty

and ripen our tomatoes as if they were legacies of our own, canned or quarantined in cans and bad bold dashes on top of overcooked pasta.

The alphabet has enough letters to warrant a warning or waving of empathy to all, no matter what the situation.

We’re fine, if soaked in the nether regions. 

Try Minute Maid - it’s good both in and out. The maids continue their attempt to keep the kids at bay before Halloween which is a fuck you to little tykes across the city. 

100 Words a Day v. 5

October 29th, 2012

slandered by the very vessel that brought us here, coupled with the ongoing purpose of putting word to work - a bacon sausage share is all that takes to be the bitch at the butcher, fanatically desperate to shutter the chute to all things available and yet not available due to inclement weather...

so we weather the weather and hide our purposes to the nether regions glad that we don’t live there - a full time no time to remain in a mouse of gibberish, the small tails wagging somewhere on the lower east side.

we can find ways and we can...

100 Words a Day v.4

October 28th, 2012

trump girl turned garrish

little litters of corruption drug through the ringer like a load of laundry

awakened once as the traditionalist; increased by the larger lear anthropologist 

flares fly; turniped wasted upon the flower

greyed gently amongst the admirers 

The wall weather speech-back:  assumption by crazy method - ten cents worth of a Saturday - but such pictures of a rock has a spit to spoon...

And how she looks at me comes down to a flutter of the leaves now falling and coupled with sour weather

there’s enough ownership to last us the rest of the week, taxes paid.

100 Words a Day v.3

October 27th, 2012

I want someone to ask me if I like my job.

Instruments pulled, no kidding, towards atoms equal to the plush of the wounds I find every morning smithered and smothered like are you happy?

Tossed around the phonebook, the pages taste too bitter to call for any reason other than simply asking if it’s the right person, if they’re there, if they might have a reason for being there in the first place.

I work and work and work and go to Spain and hang out balls like anything everymore.

If my lips ever happened, they’d smack like dice.

100 Words a Day v.2

October 26th, 2012

The movie he touches the dead:  LUNACY feels with tighter limbs, and all the more, he asked me what was wrong. 

Just hanging by the bed thread, he looks like I never will; he tailors his innocence like a fat child on the playground; he takes his hand for all years and makes a choking motion towards air. 

I wipe the disaster away from my eyes, and cry them clean them dry.

I don’t know the thing that is about to happen, nor that the ultrasound be stitched and lovingly tucked back into the flap and fold of my mother. 

Ponderously, Pretentiously

“As if: in a way, the various Ways, in Which your Body just Hung there, unspoken and yet Sustained in its Reception of what Roared, and Tucked-Under: Frictions of this (is) Given so to Pulse, to Scale, over the Tremor, of what Glees before the Lee of Sleep.”

Boris Izsus 2012

100 Words a Day v. 1

October 25th, 2012

like cow clams sitting in juice, desirable - knee capped like the fist gripped by tolerance - the shape of the cones like Japanese dinner pieces - I feel her box contract like molten chocolates - she called home and ran thinly upstairs - tired, and drunk on the where, ran thickly down to the basement - there she stood and he stood in front of her with a crutch like a phallus - sesame seeds sprinkled across her flesh, flash-fried in a thin puss of oil - the information of getting needs to get - I’ll do it to myself - getting to his body, the sky, too.

20 FOOTNOTES TO A BRIEF HISTORY OF PRETENDING TO PRETEND TO EXPEND YOUTH'S LEFTOVERS

       ⁽¹⁾ And it Began with one smudged Word: Soufflé (es) in Souffléur 

       ⁽²⁾ The Blattoidious City:--------------àa Clustering yet Retracting Space; where each Step, each Face and Sensation, is a Vacuum of  

             the Notes for a Bubba-Sized Blighter

       ⁽³⁾ And Lordy, how we’re Cauterized by Efficacy

       ⁽⁴⁾ In Other Words:-----------àThat Time (-ab) away

       ⁽⁵⁾ The Greatest Events of Bitterness, grow throughout the Night

       ⁽⁶⁾ Pertaining to your Plutonious Pie

       ⁽⁷⁾ Cupidity is a part of my Dirdity

       ⁽⁸⁾ And the Question arises: ‘Am I being Sincere?’----------àEh, tell it to Chicago, where Harm’s Upheaval points us to

       ⁽⁹⁾ No matter: The Meat is Mien is scrumptiously Scrupulous and Mine 

      ⁽¹⁰⁾ Why I ought to read more Izsus: because he calls Writing “the (re)imago of the unexchangeable,” what “makes us believe there   

              are things in the world that are not for Others, but rather, solely for one’s own Abuse, alone. On behalf of the unexchangeable,      

             Writing must awaken a critical Aggression toward the World of exchangeable things that have been taken ahold of by Others, for 

             Others, sold to Others.”

      ⁽¹¹⁾ “But Ma, I ain’t going out in that Shit—[!]”

      ⁽¹²⁾ Oh, but the long Grass clinging to your Thighs and I: ‘Oh My’….”

      ⁽¹³⁾ In Other Words:------------à“Ahem, Oh Oi Moi …”

      ⁽¹⁴⁾ I had Longed to Live in a Cluttered Province, where my Words could be, as if, sucked into a Vacuum and in turn, Spun around,   

             unleashed, as in, Shot-Out, so to Hit, the Outline, of every Face, that was, that is, or Are

      ⁽¹⁵⁾ The most important Intimacies shared between two People, makes no Commotion on (‘the-err’) first taking Place, nor indeed in 

              how (“Ow…”) their Effects come-in deep to the Bones from the Mouth, the Skin, and yes, I admit, I’m Sledged by the Sauce of       

              Secrecy. 

      ⁽¹⁶⁾ For: it is a Concussion, or the bull-rushing together of two Bodies which seek to fill a Vacuum.  The Great Intimacies, for which 

             they have prepared (peppered) the way, produce an (internal) Explosion, inverting what gradually requires a Body to be suddenly   

             filled; as a coming-together; it takes the place of a Silence, and it Becomes a Horror that is Whispered throughout my 

             Neighborhood, at Night.

      ⁽¹⁷⁾ Thus: Refusing to Assume the Subject’s Position, meaning: I am in the thrōs of (my own) Opposition which is the exact 

            Opposite of “making-meaning” for the apparent lack of the Object is the Desolution of a Subject, in other words: I am Disposed  

            amongst: What is the Which one Whiching in What—[?]

      ⁽¹⁸⁾ “Your Body was merely a Footnote, until the Time that it will Begin to Grow-to-Become a Volume.”

      ⁽¹⁹⁾ For there shall be no Finality to *this

      ⁽²⁰⁾ However, Sincerely: I was, and will always be, in Another’s Presence: a Timid Farter 

I IDENTIFY UPON KETCHUP WINGS

“For the First few Months, I Found it so Odd, that I would Dream, and therefore, Awake and Remember, with the Clearest of Details, my Dreams, whenever I Slept next to You: but in Time, it Came to Mind, that of course: your Geography, encased, is (-un) All.”

-Boris Izsus 2012