They just don’t censor like they used to…
Scuffed stories & cartoonish states of mind
my shoes fray & my head wavers

rEST

transparent charity
cylindrical chambers
splintered museums
Created space, the drawn room
stars align to question
misspelled flags unfurled
misspelled constellations
scribbled patterns of humanity
scanned

artistic overcoats

At some point everyone will be a blur
indistinguishable (I want to witness
indecipherable the ant’s
incoherent masterpiece)
in a constant state of flux
indetermined
intertwined (tortured
incognito souvenirs)

Should I suckle on the pit of Prufrock’s peach,
or let the juices of WCW’s stolen plums dribble down my chin?

I yanked the sweater from the pile
and entered personae reconciled
disguise the day in plaid
the world looks thinner in vertical stripes
darker shades mask pain but show dirt

it’s enchanting the way the light bounces
off of each bathroom tile, though I can’t
say I agree with the placement of that doorstop,
and will someone please halt that 3-toned rhythmic drone?

sprawling webs where is my monolith of noise?

cascading spirals twirling bullseyes spinning
enter (get blurred in) the grey whirlpool

Life can be stacked & bundled or intricately
diagramed step-by-step in chalk
The bible is bluffing
the bodies in mounds are positioned next to this shirt stack
& I can see her underwear (straight flush blush)
a couple of stray bucks
and my pirated guilt will cease

I wish I had the black man’s hat her fragrance still is lingering in the crevices of my fingerprints

expected appearance expected appearance?

a sad man pontificates a bag of kitty litter, a desk of felt. coarse slabs of intrinsic emotion documenting traced interstates on my atlas’d heart

How
can I blind Pinsky’s inward eye?