Foreign Altitudes

Combustion leaks gas ignite;
Flame boils the falsetto,
And indignation
Comes with threat
To union.

Do you
My authority?

Phased wire cut,
Cosmology renewed isotropic seizure.

When we run
At half mast;
Turn ovules
To broken steel bolts;
Shins amassing

These gods have it.

But throughout these incandescent
Soles; forested phraseologies
Become yet another phrase.
Just another pentecostal age.

Outright Daft Punk Entertainment Machine

Caloric reconstructive memory;
Peeling wallpaper strips,
With yesterday’s false ideology.

We scream in technicolor.

Our hands tied with affinity,
The false musing
Of Saturnine rebellion.

Coarse skins; paleontological uprising,
Patterned after
Soles shut.

I grew a firmament from Heaven;
Keeping in time
With strict coherence
To the faulted cartographies
Of last decaying ire.


My underlined transfusionism;
Redundant ideologies
And representative homogenous lies,

Bestowed on me through
Categorical permanance
As though,

To steal scars
From lighter dimensions;
And harangue.

Biological representation
Of two-story diamonds,
As found in the mountains of Ararat.

I cooked a stew;

Gave it birth
With water
And fire.
And an element
Of bull.


Piña colada,
The drips
Of isolationism scream.

One planned birth begetting
Two limericks.

An ostrich egg,
As open to hyphenation,
Or any nation’s
Cerebral content.

Alphabet soup, burned
Beneath the top of the stove;
In the oven.
Lights on.

Do you,
Merry; an established pejorative take?

My minority’s laughter
By soft-core porn ritual
In the sink
Of an endemic icosahedron;

Bring me laughter
In death.