Revving the Motor

a poem is like a reply when you don't let things just pass you by when you catch a snatch of wonder on the fly or fathom a conundrum in a whisper of a sigh that's what a poem is and a poem is sound like the truest Hindu diety a story of vibration (go …

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J.Livingston & Co.

Seems trunks of naked trees this year spell different hilltop words and the birds have gone high-tech updating the codes every day I would fear I'd been swept away to some new kingdom in my dreams if it weren't for the kindergarten gulls dogging the fishing boats and screaming PLEASE, PU-LEASE, PU-LEASE, PU-LEASE . .

The Partaking

The coming legion, she said {in radiant, radical optimism] would convert the myriad pyramids into one sphere – more in keeping with our place here in the universe It would be a green party with no pin or tailnipped beast or blindfolds just a colourful feast and the music of birds in the trees and …

kinda like goin’ to the movies

Unwashed linen sky just before the birch sheds its last leaves Slick negative of time-lapsed lightening in a starry night - what's white is black and what's black is white Trick image has caught me on its hook compels me to say oh look What does it mean? Nothin'. Just a funny scene. . .

multitudinous silly bells in their magnanimity

opalescent tentacular slithering....surreptitious subliminal leviathan auricular rape of that last vestige of slumber's serenity dictatorial prevarications - a pulchritudinous plethora of metallic mellifluity testing my morning mettle with metallic anglo-saxon accents - always on Sunday . .