crumbled and rolled

they can smell the sensitive on him 07/25/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 12:57 pm

the books make me feel like feeling again so
if i show up to work smelling like beach and chlorine,

baby boys who subscribe to a willow whipping,
percussive to tender dance licks lathering the strings of women
admits to me
he can only count three,

(which is better my lies
are one point five,)
and perhaps recite poetry

that calls my homunculus
by name, no grimaces,
-that he
submit to some game
wit theory of lyricists

is unfortunate result
of patriarchy’s stimulus
been on a gender bender when
like henry will the bottom hollow out?


internet sentiment 07/24/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 1:15 pm

why cling
to the vestiges
of my virtual twelve?

to dwell in vacant
geocities, powered
by angelfire?

you know i still
feel the fanfic
fanfare when i’m there.

only i’m not,
all vaporous-
so vapid. bare the bones
of bleached out homes
where my innocence
laid down to die,

all i typed was y?


all birds are omens

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 1:15 pm

horace mann’s
omen- a predatory bird
& no TV for me today,
oh no TV for me,

possessed by the trees
muddy, seeing threes

sweatbees hastily beat
their stinging retreat

head full of dazed,
buzz repeatedly blazed.


sonnet five 07/20/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 11:34 pm

when celebrities die in sets of three,
are people puzzles carousels of sound?
omens, numerous as birds of sea,
or glow-worms, illuminate the ground,

plumage skirts the breeze
fanciful in flight,
of fear, of the trapeze,
verdant? just at night

do fire-bugs flare incensed.
temperament- a tuft of jest,
to take on a new one, jiltest test
as a caress, tender- short of breath.

rainbow’d, pixeled: so refractions of my dream,
a sentimental scream seems as serene.


apology 07/09/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 1:50 am

i’m proud of the bite
i took out of your life
maw tainted with spite
fangs, striving for strife

apologies are flies
on an asses behind

when are there enough?
by ten, to fill the penny jars
up for seven. (y’know, that’s
the number for heaven.)


past ghasts 07/07/2009

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 12:21 pm

swore i could smell the tang. like iron
soft as alarm bells clang, haha- lord byron
projectile’d words like clay, fired ’em
sculptures of this soul’s for hire, a

downpouring of sound, dour,
dolorous, a
melodious past-ghast,
so sonorous.

did you catch more flies with vinegar or honey?
depends how you tongue’d the tang. it’s haha, funny.


pitter patter goes my heart

Filed under: readable — paperslightertext @ 1:53 am

the curl turns, the whey curdles,
in a whip
biking over the hurdles
brief- a blip

jump skipped hop
the burnt hair
diluted in pot
tinges the air

and so the stick burns, to the wire,
dismantled, unwound smoke spirals,
heavy with musk- the scent of lament.

guitar tendrils, twisted tendons,
carpal tunnel bump swelling at
that junction of my wrist, before, i’ve said this-

that if you acquit, it does not fit,
the rhymes dissipate in the thick of it.